The Provence Puzzle: An Inspector Damiot Mystery(66)
“Pouchet tells me he heard in the village this afternoon that more of the locals will be coming up there tonight. Quite a number of them, evidently, if the weather remains clear… Isn’t there something that could be done, Monsieur Inspecteur—anything you can do—that would stop Nick? Prevent this monster nonsense!”
“I have no authority to prevent anything.” He continued to eat with appetite as he explained. “The Comte can play his monster trick on the villagers or do anything else he wishes. As long as no one’s injured. The Chateau de Mohrt is his property. He’s not breaking any law.”
“I realize that, but I am quite genuinely concerned. This whole monster business is childish! Nick, like most geniuses, has an infantile sense of humor…”
As the Englishman talked, Damiot saw that his daughter was nodding toward the kitchen doors. She had attracted Michel’s attention and neither her father nor Aurore had noticed.
“Will you be there tonight?” Tendrell asked. “At the Chateau?”
“I may drive up after dinner and see what’s happening. I too heard that the villagers would be paying another visit. Their wives, apparently, are demanding that they destroy the monster.”
“Nick plans to destroy the thing himself before the villagers discover it’s a trick. He told me so today! I tried to persuade him to demolish it this afternoon but he wouldn’t hear of it. Where will you be tonight? On that hill again? Behind the castle?”
“Tonight I’ll drive up the lane to that side gate where I entered last night. That way I can be on ground level, near the front courtyard. Some dark spot where the villagers won’t notice me.”
“I’ve never seen that side entrance. Pouchet leaves the back gate open for me and I have a key to the kitchen door. Nick wants me with him tonight for the performance. I’ll tell him you’ll be coming.”
“My presence, I must remind you, will not be official.” He reluctantly finished the last morsel of artichoke vinaigrette.
“After the show why don’t you join us for a drink? Nick likes you, and he needs to see more people! I’ll have him send Pouchet to find you.”
“Might be wise not to make definite plans. Let’s see what develops.”
“You may be right.” Tendrell glanced beyond Damiot toward the swinging doors. “That grinning idiot! Keeps looking in here. Staring at my daughter! I’m not about to have her fall for any Don Juan of a chef. I’ve a suspicion they’ve been meeting somewhere when she drives down to the village, afternoons, while I’m painting. I suppose I should buy a second car and follow her! Although I must say I don’t care for that sort of thing. Suspicious parent playing detective!”
While the Englishman talked, Damiot noticed that Jenny seemed to be amused, sipping her wine and smiling to herself as though she had just played a trick on her father.
“Did you know, Monsieur Inspecteur?” Tendrell leaned forward again, confidentially. “Aurore’s selling the Auberge! Signing contracts to manage the restaurant in a fancy new hotel that will replace the H?tel Courville…”
“Is she?”
“Taking her smiling chef along with her! Which, in my opinion, is a great mistake. Michel informed me, as I ordered dinner, that it will be a three-star restaurant!”
“That’s not impossible, I should think. He’s an excellent chef.”
“But such conceit!”
“All first-class chefs have tremendous egos. They too are artists, Monsieur.”
“I suppose he’s anticipating all the rich American women he’ll charm into bed. Aurore should get rid of him when she closes the Auberge. He amuses her for the moment, but I can’t believe she’s really serious about him. Except, of course, as a chef! And she wouldn’t have been interested in him even as a chef, while her husband was alive. Now there was a charming man!” He got to his feet as Claude cleared the table for Damiot’s next course. “See you later, Monsieur Inspecteur?”
“Perhaps, Monsieur. Perhaps…”
CHAPTER 21
The ruts in the narrow lane didn’t seem so deep tonight.
Damiot glanced down at Fric-Frac, curled beside him. “Tonight, Madame la Duchesse, you must stay close to me. And no barking! You understand?” He smiled as her tail thumped the leather seat.
The Peugeot rattled across the wooden bridge and followed the twisting road into the hills.
As he slowed through the familiar open gate into the narrow private lane, he wondered if Aurore would be waiting up when he returned to the Auberge tonight…
His headlights swept across the spectral white mausoleum where the de Mohrt ancestors were interred. Would the old Comtesse be there with all the others?
Driving on, Fric-Frac snuggling against his waterproof, he thought about the villagers driving up to the entrance gates. Before leaving the Auberge he had heard more cars passing by. Several had sounded like small trucks. One of those, very likely, belonged to Marc Sibilat… When Damiot stopped at the kitchen door to get Fric-Frac, Claude had told him that he was coming to the Chateau tonight on his motorcycle but would be delayed because of the people who had showed up late for dinner. Michel had been furious because he himself always tried to leave early Monday nights.
Turning left on the open strip that circled the Chateau, Damiot drove to the same spot, near the front, where he had parked last night. Switched off his headlights and was immediately aware of the silence.