In the Shadows (The Outsiders Book 1) (17 page)

Jeannette said, “This is Maurelle Dupre. She is staying with Fabienne.” She quickly added, “And this is my daughter, Coralie Charboneau.”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Madame Charboneau.” Maurelle knew, of course, that Coralie was Simone’s mother because Fabienne had told her, but she was surprised how alike they looked—the same golden blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. Coralie looked more like Simone’s older sister than her mother.

Coralie glanced around the room, and asked, “
But where is Dave?”

“
Unfortunately, he is away on business,” Jeannette said, waving her hand as she spoke.

Coralie looked surprised
, but before she could respond Paul stepped forward, kissed Fabienne on both cheeks, and looked at Maurelle.

Jeannette looked abashed. “Please forgive me. Mademoiselle Dupre, let me introduce my grandson, Paul Lepage. His mother is my youngest daughter, Brigitte.”

Maurelle said, “We have met, actually.”

“You have?” Jeannette and Fabienne said, simultaneously.

“Well, yes.” All eyes focused on Maurelle, and she almost stumbled over her words. “Dave introduced us, though he didn’t tell me he was your grandson.” She looked from Jeannette to Paul. They didn’t really resemble one another. Jeannette’s red hair, which was obviously dyed, gave no hint as to whether she originally had blonde hair like her daughter and granddaughter or had black hair like her grandson. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t mention the hitchhiking incident.

Paul nodded, but didn’t comment.

Jeannette cleared her throat. “We’re waiting on a few more guests. They should be here momentarily.”

While they waited, Maurelle caught Paul staring at her from across the room. He nodded, then turned and walked away.

Ten minutes later, more guests arrived and introductions were made: Coralie’s boyfriend Serge, Sandrine Fortier, Jonas and Lillian Lefevre, and Charles and Helene Gavalda. Maurelle remembered Sandrine, the nurse who had attended to her after the hitchhiking incident, but neither of them mentioned it.

After everyone had an aperitif, Jeannette escorted her guests into the dining room, and assigned seats to her guests. Maurelle noticed Jonas Lefevre watching her from across the table and down several spaces. Before they could begin the meal, the doorbell rang and Jeannette excused herself, returning moments later with Simone in tow.

Maurelle’s mouth dropped open involuntarily. She quickly snapped it shut, hoping no one had noticed. She flashed a look at Fabienne who looked equally surprised.

After another round of greetings, Simone took a seat at the dinner table.

“Simone had a previous engagement, but it was cancelled. She’s going to join us.”

Simone raised her eyebrows and asked, “Where is Dave?”

Jeannette said, “He’s out of town, on business, isn’t that right, Fabienne? Or is he out of the country? You didn’t really say?”

Before Fabienne opened her mouth to answer, Simone made a clicking sound of disapproval with her mouth.
“He left without telling me? He didn’t even say au revoir?” She paused, and her face clouded over. “I bought tickets for us to attend the theatre together in Vendome for tonight. He didn’t even call to tell me he couldn’t make it.”

“I’m sure he
simply forgot in his haste. He’ll be back,” Fabienne said. “Something came up unexpectedly. His work, something about his book, you know.”

Simone pouted, stood up
, and turned on her heel. Almost as abruptly, she stopped and turned to face the dinner table. “She did this,” she said quietly, glaring at Maurelle.

Maurelle felt her own face grow hot as all eyes focused on her. She couldn’t think of anything to say to help the situation.

Jeannette stood and positioned her arms on Simone’s shoulders. “I’m sure that Dave will be back soon.” She rubbed her granddaughter’s shoulders, and continued in a soothing voice, “Fabienne has told me that she is the one helping Maurelle now—not Dave. Don’t be upset. Please come and sit. Dinner is getting cold.”

Simone didn’t move or say anything. The room was quiet and everyone’s eyes now focused on Simone and Jeannette.

Finally, Simone broke the silence this time as she glared at Fabienne. “I don’t believe that Dave is away on business. He told me that everything was going great with his latest book, and that he didn’t need to go back to Chicago or to his publisher in New York any time soon.”

“I told you that it was unexpected, Simone,” Fabienne said. “He couldn’t have known ahead of time.”

“You’re lying,” Simone said. “The way you lied to get him here. He told me about that. I know what a liar you are.”

Fabienne’s face turned bright red and she wagged her hand at Simone
. “You ungrateful . . . ! I should never have introduced you to my grandson.”

“I think he’s doing something for her. I’ve been thinking about what you told us last week, about her being in trouble with the law. He’s gotten himself involved, hasn’t he?”

Not waiting for Fabienne to answer, Simone said, “Of course he would. That’s the detective in him.” She squinted her eyes, causing little wrinkles to gather around her nose. “So, what has Maurelle done that would make Dave leave here without taking her along? Why would he need to keep her hidden?”

Fabienne gathered her napkin in her hands and twisted it.

“Out with it,” Simone demanded. “If you won’t tell me, maybe I’ll make a call to the Gendarmerie Nationale
.
”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Fabienne said. “Dave would never forgive you.”

“Then he is hiding her from the gendarmes!” Simone stood with her hands on her hips, satisfaction plastered on her face.

Fabienne
clapped her hand over her mouth, and sank back in her chair. Suddenly, she scooted her chair back and stood. “We should go,” she said.

After dinner with
Greg and Nigel, Dave excused himself and went back to his hotel room. The last thing he wanted to do was to go “pubbing” with them.
Damn Greg.
He knew Dave wanted to keep a low profile. What had made him think that bringing a local detective in on the investigation would work? Of course the guy would want to know why he was interested in the case; no cop in his right mind would blindly help them.

He pulled back the covers on the bed, undressed, and
laid down. Hoping for a distraction from his worries, he turned on the television, but he switched it off ten minutes later. His mind dwelled on the newspaper articles he’d read and his conversation with Nigel until he eventually nodded off to sleep. Dave slept fitfully, tossing and turning all night, dreaming about Maurelle in a British courtroom with judges wearing white wigs. By the time he awoke, he wondered if he’d made a serious mistake coming here.

He dragged himself out of bed, showered, and dressed quickly, giving himself no time for second thoughts. He pulled out
a London map and public transportation guides, studying them to develop a plan for the day. He would go to the Raybourne home first, where the murder had occurred, and check it out from the outside. With any luck, he might get a chance to speak with neighbors. Also, somewhere along the way, purchasing a disposable phone or a phone card would be prudent.

With plan in hand, h
e exited his hotel room, pulling the door shut and locking it. As he turned to leave, he came face to face with Greg who was rushing along the narrow hallway.

“Hey, buddy,” Greg said. “Glad I caught you before you headed out. We need to talk.”

Dave grunted.

“Sorry about last night, but you’ve gotta understand. Nigel isn’t going to stick his neck out for you if you won’t tell him what this is all about. He can’t trust you
; he doesn’t know you like I do.”

“I know. I got that. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I’ll go it alone on this one. Enjoy your stay here in London.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. But I don’t think Nigel will unless you open up.”

“That’s not going to happen. You know me well enough. I don’t trust easily, not
anymore.” He looked away.

“But you expect everyone else to trust you,” Greg said, raising his hand. “That’s not exactly fair.”

“I have my reasons.” 

“Let’s get some breakfast and talk, okay?”

“I’m not really in the mood.”

“Come on. You owe me a breakfast considering I flew all the way here because you asked me to.”

“All right. We can go to the coffee shop next door.”

Ten minutes later, after ordering coffee and pastries, they carried their purchases to a table and sat down.

“Look, you know darn well that you wouldn’t stick your neck out for anyone without knowing what you were getting yourself into. That includes me. I trust you, buddy, but I need something. After all we’ve been through together, you know I trust you. But even I need to know why you’re so interested in this case.”

Dave rolled his shoulders
, looked around uncomfortably, then stared at the floor.

“Back when we were partners, you did everything by the book—at least up until the end. You would have made anyone asking for help on a case outside your jurisdiction jump through hoops before you’d get involved.”

“Okay, but I can’t tell Nigel,” Dave said. “He may be the one person who could help because of his connections, but he could as easily bring everything crumbling down.”

“Oh, God,” Greg said. He looked at Dave
in concern. “You know the suspect, don’t you?”

Dave shrugged
, shuffling his feet nervously.

“Is she this ‘Simone’ that you told us about?”

“No. I was seeing Simone before I met her.”

“Oh, man! Please don’t tell me you’re involved with the suspect.”

“I didn’t know about the case when I met her. I want to make that clear.”

Greg looked at him as if he thought
Dave had lost his mind, but he didn’t say anything.

“Look,” Dave said, “I’m going to keep an open mind and look at all the evidence I can find before I make a judgment. I don’t know if she’s guilty or
innocent, but I need to find out.”

“So where is she?” Greg asked.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“What if she’s using you? What if she’s guilty?”

“Then I’ll find out and turn her over to the police. I’m not going to help her get away with murder if she is guilty. I already told her that.”

Greg was silent for a few moments, obviously weighing what Dave had revealed to him. Dave hated putting his friend on the spot like this, but he seemed to have little choice except to come clean with Greg about Maurelle. Unfortunately, Greg was just too good a detective
and saw through his apparently weak subterfuge.

“Okay”, Greg said.
“Although I’ll probably be sorry for this, I’m still willing to help. I see now why you didn’t wanna tell Nigel. Man, you really know how to get yourself into a mess.”

Dave said,
“Thank you for trusting in me.” Greg looked like he was going to say something, but Dave raised his hand to hold him off. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you. For now at least, it’s better for you if you do not know her whereabouts and we stick to my cover story about my doing research for a novel; plausible deniability and all that. I asked you here though because I’ve been out of touch with police work for too long. I need your expertise and your insights. I can’t confide in Nigel for obvious reasons, but I have been thinking about other potential help. I read some newspaper articles last week. Most were slanted against the accused, but there was one which commented on the presumption of guilt and the way that it was being assumed she had run away because of guilt. The writer showed how circumstantial was the evidence as known to the public, taking each point in turn.”

“So, what are you thinking?”

“Maybe we could start by talking to the journalist. He might consider working with us?”

“That might work. Do you remember the journalist’s name?”

“K. L. Hill. The article was an opinion piece and said that he was a freelance journalist.”

“Have you looked up the guy online?”

Dave said, “No, I haven’t tried yet.”

“
Okay, so what do you need me to do?”

“I
’m still concerned that I was wrong in asking you to come here. I didn’t think it through properly.”

“Why do you say that?”

“With each bit of information I give you, you become more at risk. It’s bad enough that I could go to jail for protecting her. I certainly don’t want you in trouble, too.”

“
Look Dave, I’m a big boy and can make my own decisions. You were honest with me. While I don’t know if this woman is innocent or guilty, I’ll reserve judgment on that score once we get the facts. But I am curious now, too, and I want to help you find the answers you need—as long as you don’t let your feelings for her cloud your judgment.”

Dave said nothing,
but after a few moments nodded and lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“So, where do we start?”

“Scene of the crime, if we can. Hampstead. I want to check out the neighborhood where the murder took place. I was planning to go this morning.”

“Do you have the address?”

“Yeah. She gave me the address as well as names and other details. We can snoop around the neighborhood and maybe talk to neighbors.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Greg said, smiling.

BACK AT THE house, Maurelle and Fabienne sat in the kitchen, talking and worrying long into the night, neither of them hungry, both of them tired. They had rushed home from the quarrel, missing the dinner and regretfully embarrassing their hostess which, after the scene with Simone, had been unavoidable. Both women felt extremely uncomfortable about the incident and both were worried about what Simone would do.

Finally, Fabienne said, “
We should try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to Jeannette in the morning. I hope she and Coralie talked some sense into Simone.”

Maurelle tried to fall asleep, but she tossed and turned,
her mind fixating on one worry after another, trapping each one in a mind-web that grew ever wider. Finally, she managed to thrash it away long enough to catch a couple of hours of sleep before she awoke and began the whole process again. Hoping to surprise Fabienne by making the morning coffee, she hastened downstairs. But halfway down, the scent and hiss of coffee brewing greeted her.

“Good morning,” Maurelle said, trying to sound cheery. “I wanted to make coffee and breakfast for you this morning.”

Fabienne waved her hand. “That’s sweet of you, but I couldn’t sleep. I needed to do something useful.”

“
Same for me. I’m so sorry that I put you in this situation.”

“Don’t you go blaming yourself for Simone’s actions. If you want, you can help me with the omelets. We should try to go about our usual business until a reasonable hour.
When it’s time, I’ll call Jeannette and find out what happened after we left.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Here, you can chop up the ham into tiny pieces while I grate the cheese.”

Half an hour later,
the omelets made, they finished eating, and sat sipping coffee. Fabienne looked at the clock. “I suppose I should call Jeannette. She should be up by now.”

Maurelle stood up. “While you do that, I’ll clean up in here.”

A few minutes later, Fabienne hung up the telephone. The expression on her face sent chills through Maurelle.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jeannette says she can’t talk to me right now. She’ll come by the house as soon as she can get away.”

Maurelle bit her lower lip. “That doesn’t sound good, does it?”

“No. I guess we should try to keep busy until then.” Fabienne bustled around the kitchen, storing away the washed dishes while Maurelle swept the floor. Fabienne wasn’t whistling or humming her favorite songs the way she usually did, and Maurelle became increasingly concerned.

The doorbell rang, making both women jump.

Fabienne wiped her hands on her apron, and rushed into the living room with Maurelle trailing behind.

“
Bonjour,” Jeannette said. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.” She looked nervous.

“What happened
after we left last night?” Fabienne asked.

“Simone calmed down, eventually, and we ate our dinner—cold. It was my worst dinner party, ever.”

Maurelle moved closer. “I’m really sorry about messing up your party. If I hadn’t gone, everything would have been fine.”

Fabienne wagged her hand.
“Oh, non! It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“
She’s right about that,” Jeannette said. “Simone would have shown up, anyway, and she was angry—not at you, in truth, but at Dave. He didn’t tell her he was leaving. He stood her up and she lashed out at the two of you.”

“So, everything’s better now?” Fabienne asked.

Jeannette bit her lip, her face reddening. “Well, no, I’m afraid not. This morning Coralie came over. She told me that she’d gone to Simone’s café for coffee and Paul was there.”

Fabienne raised her eyebrows, her bifocals
slipping precariously on the bridge of her nose. “What happened?”

“Well, Paul got into an argument with Simone. Apparently, he told Simone that she should call the Gendarmerie Nationale, but she refused, saying that whether or not Dave loved her, he was still her friend
and she would lose him for sure if she turned in Maurelle. Anyway, Paul stormed out, saying he would make the call as soon as he returned home. She took off after him, and begged him not to call but he ignored her.”

Fabienne’s face went white, and Maurelle felt her
heart race.

“Why would he do that?” Fabienne asked.

“He thinks Maurelle is hiding something. He also said that he, as the only male in the family, owes it to his cousin to look out for her.”

Jeannette paused and took a deep breath
before waddling over to the couch and sitting down. “Simone sent Coralie to my house. She asked me to call Paul and see if I could talk him out of it, but his phone was busy. When I finally reached him, the deed was done. He told me that the Gendarmerie Nationale
will send gendarmes here to investigate. They are in Belvidere. They could arrive any time.”

“Oh dear God! What are we supposed to do now?” 

“You must send her away,” Jeannette said. “I don’t know what she’s hiding, but if you’re caught harboring a criminal, you could be arrested.”

Fabienne turned to face Maurelle. “Gather your things. We must get you out of here. I’ll pack a bag, too.” 

Maurelle started up the stairs, and was halfway up, when it suddenly dawned on her that Fabienne had said she would pack a bag, too. She paused and turned around, her hand on the railing, and listened to the two women in the living room.