The Provence Puzzle: An Inspector Damiot Mystery(65)

There was no sound of barking from the kitchen as he passed, so Fric-Frac must be asleep. Probably upstairs in Aurore’s private suite.

He saw sunlight pouring through the windows of the lounge for the first time, as he turned down the long corridor to his room.

Dropping his hat and waterproof on a chair, he went into the bath and ran himself a tub. Soaked in the hot water, muscles relaxing, then stretched out on the bed, wrapped in his robe, and slept immediately.

It was after seven-thirty when he left his room and headed toward the front. Crossing the circular lobby, he saw that only one table in the restaurant was occupied. Allan Tendrell was having an early dinner with his daughter.

“M’sieur Damiot!”

He turned to see Claude, behind the registration desk. “Telephone for you, M’sieur.” Holding out the phone, across the desk. “It’s M’sieur Bardou again.”

“Merci, mon ami.” He took the phone from the gar?on’s hand. “Bardou? What’s happened now?”

“Wanted you to know. My friend in Toulon called back. Gave me a license number for the Deffous girl’s car that has gone out to every gendarmerie in Provence. They’ve been told to look for a gray Dauphine.”

“That may turn it up.”

“I stayed at the town hall most of the day, waiting for news from Toulon, but now I’m back at the hotel. The manager says they never buy their supplies in Toulon.”

“It was only an idea… Is your cold better?”

“Better than yesterday. A bient?t, M’sieur Inspecteur!”

“A bient?t…”

As he went toward the restaurant, Aurore came to meet him, smiling, wearing another attractive dress. This one was a soft rose color.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Pleasant. Except for a miserable lunch.”

“We must give you an excellent dinner to make up for that.” Lowering her voice. “Allan Tendrell and his daughter are here.”

“So I noticed.”

“They seldom dine with us Monday nights.” She led him toward his usual table. “I was surprised when Jenny phoned this morning for a reservation. Monday is always slow. You three may be our only customers.” She went ahead, past the Tendrells’ table.

The Englishman glanced up from his food. “Ah! Monsieur Damiot!”

Jenny looked around and smiled. “Hello, Inspector!”

“Mademoiselle!” He hesitated, facing the painter. “Monsieur…”

“I was hoping I might run into you tonight. May I join you for a moment after I finish this bit of fish?”

“Certainly, Monsieur. Whenever you wish.” As he followed Aurore, he realized that Jenny had once again managed to sit facing the doors. Through the glass portholes, before he sat down with his back to the kitchen, he glimpsed the blur of Michel’s toque blanche in rapid motion.

Aurore placed a menu on the table in front of him. “Michel has prepared another of his specialties tonight, hoping that it might please you. Civet de porcelet.”

“I will most certainly have that!” Unfolding his napkin as she went back toward her desk, pausing to chat with the Tendrells.

Jean-Paul appeared at his elbow. “An apéritif, M’sieur?”

“My usual, merci.” He picked up the menu and considered the pleasant problem of what to order.

The hors d’oeuvres proven?aux? No soup. Civet de porcelet. Afterward, because of his wretched lunch, he could permit himself a dessert. The frozen nougat with glacéed fruits! One of his mother’s specialties…

As he sipped the vermouth, several more people arrived for dinner. None of their faces were familiar.

He was enjoying the hors d’oeuvres when Tendrell joined him.

“May I?”

“Please…” Motioning toward the other chair. “Will you have a glass of wine? Or, perhaps, some whisky…”

“Nothing. Merci… I’ve a bottle of wine to finish with my daughter and I’ll be doing some drinking later at the Chateau.”

He leaned across the table, his voice conspiratorial. “I had Jenny make dinner reservations because I wanted to see you, but I don’t want her to overhear what we say. Or, for that matter, Aurore! So, if I should change the subject abruptly, you’ll understand?”

“Of course.”

“First of all… I’m concerned for the safety of my daughter.”

“What do you mean?”

“You realize, now, that the so-called monster in the Chateau did not kill those two unfortunate young women. The monster is only a puppet—a harmless joke. So! Who did kill them? I didn’t want to acknowledge in front of Jenny, the other night, that I’ve been worried ever since that Jarlaud girl was murdered, because I knew there wasn’t any monster running loose. But whoever did kill those two girls still walks the village streets. Scot-free! I worry constantly about Jenny. Wondering when this beast—whoever he is—will kill again. I was hoping you were on to something…”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“I saw Nick this afternoon. Was worried about tonight. And with good reason! He’s determined to do his monster bit again.”

“I suspected from our conversation last night that he would.”