The Secrets of the Bastide Blanche

money on the store, for one, and Marine Bonnet stops by once a week to say hello. When we were trying to rid the house of ghosts, Sandrine told me we should tell the ghosts that their time on earth was up, and that they should go peacefully toward the light. I think it was sage advice, even if she did get it from a shoddy Web site. I like to think that when the house burned down, all its pain and sordid history went with it. My own included.”

Valère reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black-and-white postcard: a somewhat out-of-focus photograph of a grand house.

“La Bastide Blanche?” Justin asked, looking closely at the postcard.

“Yes, Sandrine must have picked it up at the flea market,” Valère replied. “I’ll read you what she wrote on the back, as it’s in French: ‘When La Bastide caught on fire, I decided to let Josy go. Once we knew that Léa was safe, I suddenly felt lighter, relieved that there’s no hell or final judgment. Josy’s safe up there. And you, M Barbier, should think of Agathe like that too. Safe and perhaps looking down at you. Possibly laughing. But watching all the same.’”

“That’s really lovely,” Justin said. “Did you lose everything in the fire?”

Valère stretched out his legs and reached into his pants pocket. He pulled out a linen handkerchief and Justin immediately knew what it was.

“Not this,” he said with a smile.

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