Murder is a Monkey's Game Read online

  “Morning,” I said to Adele, who wordlessly handed me a strong, black coffee and then walked away to stare out of a window. I noticed her hands were twisting restlessly and I wondered if she was worried that her recent disagreement with the late Pascal Devereux would be taken out of context.

  “Hey, are you looking forward to tonight?” Luna asked and I turned to her in surprise.

  My brain finally whirred into gear. “The staff outing. That’s still happening?”

  “Of course!” Luna said. “You’ve got to live in the present, you know? Anyway, like I said before…” she lowered her voice, “…no one in the village is going to particularly miss Pascal.”

  “Adele, what are you wearing tonight?” Luna called over to the other keeper.

  She jumped a little and turned to look at us with wide eyes. Her mind had clearly been on other things.

  “Oh, I don't know. A dress, I suppose,” she said.

  Luna looked back at me and very obviously shot Adele a suspicious look. “A dress she says… she could wear a bin bag and still look great!”

  Adele’s mouth quirked up, just enough to show that she appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't long before she looked back out of the window again. Perhaps she’d known Pascal better than she let on, I reasoned to myself, watching the way the attractive thirty-something woman’s forehead creased. Her dark eyes were far away and even her usually shining locks looked as though they’d missed a wash that morning. Something was definitely up.

  “I’d better get to work. That review needs to be written! Even though I’ll probably have to fight tooth and nail to get through to the manager here,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air in exaggeration.

  “That’s it Madi, spoil all of our fun!” Luna joked with a mischievous grin. I noticed that she automatically looked to Adele for a witty remark but none came.

  “I’ll see you both tonight. You’re still okay to pick me up?” I confirmed and Luna nodded. I hoped by the time the evening rolled around whatever was bothering Adele would have faded away.

  * * *

  “Oh, Madi, I hope you don't mind but we’ve decided to go and visit Madame Devereux before we drive to the restaurant. We were going to be early anyway and Adele…” Luna looked over at the dark-haired woman in the passenger seat who smiled and shrugged.

  “She’s a family friend. I feel it’s only right to check on her, especially as we’re in such a small community. It will be good for Luna to go, too,” she said with a sly smile.

  Luna rolled her eyes back in protest.

  “I notice Justin managed to weasel out of this sympathy visit,” she grumbled.

  “You know he’s setting up at the restaurant. Now stop complaining,” Adele chided.

  I smiled, pleased that Adele had shaken off whatever had been bothering her earlier.

  “You look great by the way, Madi,” Luna said, as she drove through the village and turned down one of the narrow, cobbled lanes in-between houses. I thanked her for the compliment. Having been caught out at Snidely with only one smart dress in my luggage, I’d been more extravagant this time and brought a few with me. If I were being really honest, I’d also done it in the hopes that Lowell might take me out to dinner one night. Or perhaps I’ll ask him, I thought, making a mental note to do so.

  “You both look wonderful, too,” I told them in turn.

  Luna was wearing a taupe coloured dress, covered with a print of butterflies. Adele was beautiful as ever, clad in a dress that had a divine print of lemons all over it. I couldn’t think of anything more summery! I was pleased that I’d managed to fit in with the dress code. I’d spent a good half an hour questioning whether or not my halter neck, quirky cat print dress had been a good choice.

  We pulled up outside a detached village house. My first impression was that the garden wasn’t nearly as well cared for as the neighbouring plots, but when we walked up the garden path, I revised my opinion. The owner of this house clearly cared about their garden, as was evident from the neatly gravelled path, but they also loved wild flowers. It was only the overly manicured neighbours who had contrived to make the cottage garden look out of place.

  The lilac coloured door opened a second or two after Adele knocked. A middle-aged woman with short, curly brown hair opened the door.

  “Adele! It’s so good to see you here. How is your husband?” the woman asked and I realised I recognised her from the village’s little convenience store, where she worked behind the till.

  “He’s fine, and yours?” Adele asked, her mouth twitching up at one corner.

  “Still dead - thank God!” the woman replied and they both laughed at what must be a joke between them. I threw Luna a look of alarm but she just smiled and shook her head. Apparently a twisted sense of humour was common around here.

  “It’s good of you to come and visit Louis. She's still in shock, poor thing,” the village woman said. “And I see you brought some dishes, too! That’s so thoughtful.”

  Adele had opened the car boot when we’d arrived to reveal a beautiful tarte au citron and a delicious looking chicken salad. She’d passed the salad to Luna without a word and had then explained that I wouldn't be expected to bring anything as I wasn’t a local. She’d thrown Luna a pointed look when she’d said that.

  “We’ll just go in and put them in the kitchen, Madame Myrtle, if that’s okay?” Adele said, hinting that we were being kept on the doorstep.

  “Of course, of course!” The other woman said but didn’t step aside. “Terrible business, isn’t it? You know, the one thing I can’t figure out is what was he doing paragliding? I never thought I'd see the day that Pascal Prideaux got up in one of those things. We leave all of that to you village youngsters,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I really don’t know, Madame Myrtle,” Adele said politely and to our collective relief, the woman moved aside and led the way into the house.

  “Louis is just through here with some company,” Madame Myrtle told us on the way down the narrow corridor. There was something about the way she said ‘company’ that piqued my interest. It didn't sound like she was talking about another village well-wisher.

  We walked into the main room, Luna and Adele still carrying their dishes. A smart looking woman with a neat grey bob was sat on the sofa, her hands clasped in her lap. Opposite her were a man and a woman dressed in suits. It looked like 'The Men In Black’ were filming a spinoff in a tiny French village. I noticed I wasn't the only one frowning at how out of place they looked.

  Louis Devereux looked round when the suited man stopped talking and fixed us all with a stare. It wasn't a particularly friendly one.

  “Madame Devereux, we just wanted to say we’re sorry for what happened. We thought we’d bring you a few bits,” Adele said, raising the tart a little higher.

  “Thank you girls, that’s so kind of you.” She turned back to the suited couple but they remained seated.

  “Who are you?” Luna abruptly asked the pair and I felt like patting her on the back for calling them out on their impoliteness.

  “I’m Mr Flannigan and this is Ms Borel.”

  The man’s clipped British accent came as something of a surprise. I felt Luna and Adele both look towards me, as if our shared nationality would somehow mean I could explain their presence at the widow of the deceased’s house. The man raised his eyebrows and we introduced ourselves in turn, sharing just as little personal information as he had done.

  “Madame Devereux, would you be okay to come to the kitchen and make sure that we put all of this in the right place? Perhaps we could dish you up a plate, if you haven’t eaten?” Adele offered.

  The widow nodded and stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she told the pair.

  I certainly didn’t imagine the stab of annoyance that crossed Mr Flannigan’s face.

  The kitchen was almost unnaturally spotless when we arrived, probably due to a well-wisher’s attentions. Louis Devereaux looked around blankly, like she
didn't even recognise where she was. Hoping to help, I opened the fridge and found there was already some sort of meat pie in situ. I had no doubt that the fridge would soon be full to the bursting, if bringing food round in times of trouble was the local custom.

  I took the pie out and lifted it up, catching Adele’s eye. She nodded and gestured towards the plates. I made up a single serving, adding some of Luna’s gift-salad on the side. If the mysterious couple in the other room were staying for much longer, they could jolly well help themselves.

  “I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Madame Devereux said to Adele, who nodded sympathetically.

  “I know. His absence from village life will definitely be noticed,” she replied, rather tactfully.

  It didn’t get past Madame Devereux. “If he’d drunk a little less, perhaps more people would have known his better side.” She looked at Luna when she said it.

  “I’m sure,” Luna finally concurred, after Adele shot daggers at her from behind Madame Devereux’s back.

  The grieving widow nodded in silence.

  “Madame Devereux, who are those people in the other room?” Adele ventured.

  “Oh, I don’t know really. They say they’re some special branch of the police. They hadn't got far with their questions when you all came in but that’s what they seem to be here for - asking questions.”

  I exchanged looks with Adele and Luna, the three of us none the wiser. No doubt time would tell. Nothing stayed secret for long in a village the size of L’airelle.

  “You girls… you saw him, didn’t you?” the widow said, looking at each of our faces in turn.

  “We did, Madame Devereux,” I acknowledged, when no one else spoke. Too late, I realised I’d taken on question answering duties.

  “Please, just tell me one thing… did he suffer before he died? Would he have felt it?” she asked.

  The image of Pascal Devereux’s flying limbs and eerily silent fall jumped straight back into my mind.

  I swallowed.

  “No, Madame, I don’t believe he knew he was falling at all,” I said, honestly.

  She nodded again, looking a little more comforted. I hadn’t been able to reassure her that her husband’s death had been painless. All I could be sure of was that he hadn’t been aware of the fall.

  The suited man popped his head around the corner of the kitchen.

  “Madame Devereux, I wondered where you’d got to.”

  His mouth sort of attempted to move up at the corners but he gave up before he achieved a full smile. “We still have questions we need to ask you. When you’re ready, please come back into the living room,” he said. He folded his arms and leant against the door frame, apparently determined to stay.

  I got the funny feeling that he didn’t want us to be left alone with Madame Devereux for too long. I wondered what he thought she knew that he didn’t want her to share with us.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay here? If you’d rather come with us and have some company, that would be fine. You’d be more than welcome to come to the dinner tonight,” Adele said, deliberately ignoring Mr Flannigan’s looming presence.

  The widow gave her a little smile to show she appreciated the offer. “It’s fine. I’ve got family coming over later and I’m sure I’ll have many more visitors tomorrow. Thank you for stopping by and for the food you brought with you.”

  Adele nodded and kissed the widow goodbye, once on each cheek. She walked out of the kitchen, but not without throwing a baleful look in Mr Flannigan’s direction.

  Mr Flannigan clearly wasn’t satisfied with our claim that we were leaving, as he escorted us right to the door.

  “Do you know when the funeral is?” Luna asked, before he could shut the door in our faces.

  He frowned and then shrugged. “I don’t know. It hasn’t been decided yet.”

  “Will you put up a notice about it tomorrow? Where will it be?” she pressed.

  Mr Flannigan looked even more annoyed.

  “Yes, I’m sure it will be done,” he said vaguely and succeeded in shutting the door.

  We all looked at the lilac painted wood for a second or two.

  “He’s definitely nothing to do with anyone around here,” Luna concluded, when we walked back to the car. “Anyone with any local knowledge would know that if something important happens, or if there’s an event that concerns the whole village, you put a notice up in the boulangerie. He didn’t have a clue.”

  “What do you think those parasites wanted with poor Madame Devereux?” Adele mused, but none of us had the answer for that, or why they clearly hadn't wanted us to talk to her alone for too long.

  What had they thought might slip out?

  * * *

  “Ah, bien! We are still on time,” Luna said, when we’d found a parking place in the small field behind La Traittoria Restaurant.

  I still wasn’t quite sure what to make of an Italian inspired restaurant nestled in rural southern France, but I was willing to keep an open mind.

  “You’re going to love the pizza they do,” Adele told me when we walked into the foyer.

  A waiter materialised to take the light jackets that we’d all brought with us.

  The building the restaurant was in was beautiful. It was made of stone that had been left bare. A large fireplace dominated one side of the room and I noticed that above the already roaring fire was a pizza oven. To my surprise, the kitchen was just another part of the big, open plan room.

  “Hey, look, Justin did great, didn’t he?” Adele said, pointing to the gold streamers that hung all around. There was also bunting stretched across the room and (I noticed with no little delight) a table full of cheese and charcuterie, as well as one laden with all kinds of desserts.

  I’d clearly been wrong to judge La Trattoria as just another pizza place!

  “Excuse me,” Adele said, giving us both an awkward smile before walking off in the direction of the loos.

  I watched her go while Luna waved at a group of people who’d just walked in. I wondered if Adele’s strange behaviour had just resurfaced.

  The room filled up with zoo employees and I greeted them, just like Luna and Adele, secretly marvelling at how I already felt as though I’d been accepted as a part of the team. Even being invited to the quarterly zoo night out was wonderful.

  “Here’s the best part… the chefs make the pizzas, but you can go right up and tell them the toppings you’d like as they make it for you. It’s great! You can have whatever you want,” Luna told me.

  “Pinch me, I think I'm dreaming,” I murmured, and she giggled, hooking her arm in mine and leading me over to a table filled with bottles. She selected one and poured us each a glass.

  “Welcome to the way we do things at L’airelle Zoological Park,” she said, raising her glass to meet mine.

  “I don’t think I ever want to leave,” I told her with a smile.

  3

  It’s a Dog’s Life

  So, what do you think?” I said to Lowell after I’d returned home from dinner and filled him in on the mysterious visitors at Madame Devereux’s house. I hoped by now she had some friendlier guests to look after.

  Lowell rubbed his dark stubble thoughtfully. I noticed his already tanned skin had darkened even further during the brief time we'd spent away. He certainly seemed to be busy enjoying himself. It was the first time I’d managed to catch him since that morning. At least it was the start of the weekend tomorrow. After working for seven days straight at Snidely, and experiencing a whole lot of stress I hadn’t anticipated, I’d made the decision to slow down. I didn’t see why my time at L'airelle Zoological Park couldn’t be both work and play.

  “You said the woman's name was Ms. Borel? What did she look like?” he asked.

  I thought about it for a second. “Hair in a bun and a central parting that looked like it was done with a ruler. I guess she was a dark blonde. She had some good cheekbones but I think she’s probably in her late thirties,” I estimated.
>
  “Try early forties,” Lowell said.

  I tilted my head enquiringly, and he gave me a rueful smile.

  “I know who they are. Or at least, who she used to be. I worked with Adrienne Borel on that gun smuggling case and others like it, back when I was working for the officials. She was just an underling back then, but it looks like she’s risen through the ranks. I don’t know about this Flannigan guy. He sounds like someone to watch,” he commented.

  “So, who are they?” I pressed.

  He half-shrugged. “Well, it’s been years, but I assume they’re government agents.” He narrowed his eyes. "Why they’d be here though… I could have a guess?”

  “Let’s hear it,” I said, curiosity well and truly piqued.

  He took a breath. “Pascal might have known something back from when he worked with them. He had more dealings with the French side of operations, of course, but perhaps there was something international that went down while he was on the job. For example, there might be someone in a witness protection programme who's settled nearby. Pascal might have known their real identity and someone might have killed him in order to find that information out for themselves. That’s my best guess anyway. It would explain why the agents are in town. They’ll be looking to protect the people who’ve been hiding and find out if he blabbed to anyone else.” He sucked in another breath. “If Pascal didn’t crack, that’s the person the killer will go after next.”

  “That could be why Flannigan didn’t want Madame Devereux to talk to us. Perhaps he thought she’d say something about the protection programme.” I frowned. “But if whoever is looking already knows the person they’re hunting is in the area, why would they have needed to question Pascal? Surely they’d just hang around and recognise the person when they popped out to the shops?”