The Provence Puzzle: An Inspector Damiot Mystery(60)

“That’s possible.” He smiled as one eye peeped from under the towel. “What will you do with her?”

“I was hoping…” She didn’t look up as she spoke. “That you might take her.”

“You would give her to me!”

Now she raised her eyes. “You’re the first person since Julien’s death for whom she’s shown any affection.”

“I am honored. By her affection, and by your generosity.”

She let the towel fall away from the dog. “Fric-Frac would be content with you. I’m certain of that.”

The dog shook herself, sending drops of water flying. Then she sat up on her haunches facing Damiot, stroking the air with both paws.

“You see! She wants you to hold her.”

As Damiot leaned forward, Fric-Frac jumped into his arms. He could feel the small, damp body snuggled against his waterproof as he stroked her head. “I’ve always wanted a dog exactly like this one.”

“You have?”

“I will take her back to Paris with me.” He kissed the top of the dog’s head, fragrant with the scent of bath oil. “I’m grateful to you, Madame…”

“Madame?”

“Aurore…” He handed Fric-Frac to her.

She looked into his eyes again as she cradled the squirming dog in her arms. “It has been my pleasure. Everything…”

“Bonjour, mes amis!”

They turned, startled, to see Michel, in robe and pajamas, coming down the steps from his apartment.

“Monsieur Damiot!” His eyes gleamed with excitement. “Have you heard about the new hotel?”

“I certainly have. Just now.”

“Aurore’s to manage their restaurant and I’ll be in charge of the kitchen. A three-star restaurant!”

“That will depend upon you, chéri.” Aurore smiled as she set Fric-Frac on the towel. “Only your cooking can make it three-star.”

“My cooking is already three-star!” He turned to Damiot. “You must come back again, Monsieur! After the Relais Julien has opened and is a huge success! I will prepare for you the finest dinner you have ever eaten!”

“You’ve already done that.” Damiot studied the tanned face, the dazzling smile, the curly black hair. “You should be a great success with the new restaurant, Monsieur!”

“Aurore tells me your family used to have a little cafe here…”

“Years ago, and very small.”

“Your father was the chef?”

“A good one, but not so good as you.”

Fric-Frac shook herself again, spraying water.

“Mon Dieu!” Michel exclaimed, brushing his robe. “That little monster!”

Aurore laughed. “It’s only a few drops…”

“Of course, chérie! No harm done.” He bent to kiss her, lightly, on the cheek. “Maintenant, I shall cook a three-star breakfast! Create, just for you, an omelette that no one has ever tasted before. I’ll call it—Omelette Aurore! So it must be golden, like the dawn! And we will feature it every morning at the Relais Julien!”

“I must be on my way.” Damiot started toward his car again.

“You’ll have dinner here tonight?” Aurore called after him.

“Three-star? Wouldn’t miss it!”

As he opened the door of the Peugeot, he saw that Fric-Frac had jumped down from the bench and was racing around the parking area in a circle.

She was his dog now.





CHAPTER 19


The alley had never been given a name. Everybody always called it “the alley.” The only alley in the village—except for that one behind the town hall where Lisette Jarlaud had been murdered. She had lived in an alley and died in an alley…

The cobbles underfoot were slippery with gray mud that was like snail slime. Two scrawny cats, playing with a dead rat.

He hesitated as he approached the row of tiny stone houses that had been here ever since he could remember. Five of them, with scabrous walls and no shutters at the windows. The curtains hanging inside were clean but faded from many washings.

No idea which house belonged to the Jarlaud family.

Damiot went toward the first door, but it opened before he knocked.

A bearded old man eyed him suspiciously. “Yes?”

“Jarlaud?”

An arthritic forefinger jabbed toward the end of the row. “Last house.”

“Merci, Monsieur.” He walked on.

There was a stench of sewage and rotted food as he went toward the final house. He knocked on the door twice before it creaked open.

“What do you want?”

He was surprised to see a younger-looking woman than he had anticipated. “Madame Jarlaud?”

“That’s right…”

“Chief Inspector Damiot.” He showed her his badge. “I’d like to ask a few questions about your daughter…”

“You’re that flic from Paris! Used to live here?”

“That’s right.”

“Come in, if you want.”

As Damiot entered he saw that the lower floor was a single all-purpose room. Two small children, a boy and a girl in clean blue smocks, were playing on the stone floor near an old-fashioned wood stove. There was no electricity, and the only light came from a lantern on a wooden table. He faced Madame Jarlaud as she closed the door.