“Oh, one of us, for sure.” He sipped his wine. “Gabriel, probably, if they can find him before he leaves the country.”
“But why? Why would he kill her?” Merle asked. She had been mulling this question all afternoon.
“Lovers quarrel?”
“So he takes a kitchen knife to stab her? I don’t get it.”
Another shrug from Pascal. “This cocktail party is worse than the last one.”
“Fewer distractions.”
The company had dwindled, that was certain. Bree and Sally were gone, Duncan was absent. Sabine and Gabriel had disappeared in their own ways. The children were good in the distraction department but not so much with conversation. Freddy spent much of his time corralling the boys, keeping them from spilling drinks, falling into the fireplace, and knocking over the furniture.
“Watch this,” Pascal whispered as he smiled at Pauline. She stood alone, nursing her wine, ignored by everyone. She blinked and returned the smile as he stepped over to her. “How are you, Pauline? Ça va?”
“Pas mal. Et vous?”
“Fine, thanks.” He tipped his head in a way Merle knew was irresistible. “I had a thought. Maybe you can help me.” The puzzled smile, another winner. “You work with Louis Bordeaux, is that right? Same as the chef and her little helper?”
She twisted the stem of her wineglass. “Sometimes.”
“What is he like, this Louis?”
“Like?” She frowned, pouting a lip. “I don’t know. A Frenchman, middle-aged, a little fat. Bit of a flirt, as men are.”
“From Corsica, correct?”
“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows. The Corsican connection, from one French citizen to another, generally indicated some criminal activity. “I don’t know.”
“Because if he’s helping you find work under an assumed name, he may find himself in hot water. Both with the tax authorities here in the UK and possibly even in France.” He leaned down to peer into her face. “He doesn’t pay you in cash, does he?”
“No. In check, always.” She tried to brighten but was obviously lying.
“And Gabriel and Sabine. You knew them in London.”
She grew more agitated. “I wouldn’t say I knew them. I worked a party at their house, that’s all.”
“When was that?”
“Last year. At the holidays. I think.” She squinted her eyes. “Why the questions? What is it to you?”
“Nothing, honestly. Just feeling a little odd about all three of you, plus Gabriel and Sabine, coming together from London. All connected to Louis Bordeaux. And Duncan being in the dark about it all.” Before she could reply, he set a hand on her arm. “Excuse me, I have to check on something.”
A quick glance at Merle was the indication she should follow him out of the drawing room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. Merle had to double-step to keep up. “Slow down!”
Pascal pushed through the swinging door. The good smells of French cuisine wafted over them, causing momentary bliss. Merle bumped into Pascal as he stopped, stunned by the scents of rich meat, garlic, onion, and wine, in the middle of the kitchen. Audette and Gini stood at the big AGA range, stirring pots. Audette looked up, brushing sweat off her forehead.
“Oui? This boeuf bourguignon is taking too long. It won’t thicken properly.” She stirred madly, glaring at the intruders.
“Audette. Put the spoon down for a moment,” Pascal commanded gently. “It will thicken, you know it will.”
The chef let go of the wooden spoon and sighed. She stepped back from the range, wiping her hands on her apron. “What is it? Another request from the family? I am doing the best I can, monsieur.”
Pascal crossed his arms, pensive. “I know. This is different. I was wondering—what did Gabriel and Sabine say about Louis Bordeaux?”
Audette straightened her hair, tucking strands behind her ears. “About Louis? Nothing.”
“They never mentioned him? Did they owe him money?”
“Perhaps, I don’t know. They didn’t pay our salaries, as you know. I am still quite upset about that.”
“What about Pauline? What is her relationship with Louis?”
Gini dropped a heavy ladle on the floor. She gasped and apologized. Pascal turned to her as she wiped up the sauce on the floor. “What is it, Gini? Something about Pauline and Louis?”
Audette said, “I have seen— there was some tension there. I think he hits on her. Not —“ she mimed punching — “but you know, kiss-kiss. I know nothing more.”
“I see.” Pauline had said as much. He turned to Gini. “You have something to add?”
“Pauline—” The young woman hesitated, glancing at Audette for a clue, then took a step forward. “She came to our rooms one time. To speak to them.”
“To Gabriel and Sabine?” Pascal asked.
Gini nodded. “I let her in and she goes to their room. I hear shouting— very loud with much French cursing. Salaud this and Fous-toi that. I tried not to listen but it was impossible, even with the door shut.”
“Excuse her,” Audette told them. “She is young.”
“But I know these words. You think I am innocent? Please,” Gini replied.
“When was this?” Pascal asked.
“In the morning, very early. I was dressing when I heard the knock. It was not light out. Audette was in the bathroom. I was surprised anyone was up, but we rise early, me and Audette.”
“What day was this, Gini. Think.”
The girl bit her lip and looked at Audette again for guidance. “That morning— the day you went out shooting and we fix the picnic baskets. The day she disappeared.”
Chapter Sixteen
Conor knocked lightly on Duncan’s door then inserted the key in the lock. The latch turned loudly. There was no answer from inside the room so he and Elise pushed open the door. Duncan lay on his side under the blankets and quilts, turned away from them.
They rounded the bed. “Duncan,” Conor said loudly. “Wake up.”
His mouth hung open and a string of saliva hung from his lips onto the pillow. Elise peered at his face. “He’s out cold. Is he breathing?”
Conor held his hand in front of his brother’s mouth. “Yes.” He nudged his shoulder. “Duncan? Are you all right?”
Duncan’s eyelids fluttered. Then he turned onto his back
