Pauline was the one who was off on her own, lost in the mud and dead leaves for hours, the night Sabine went missing. Otherwise known as ‘opportunity.’
And yet the drawing room seemed the same: dull conversation, bored, inebriated adults, cranky, hungry children. Even the fire had died down to embers. Nothing happening at all.
For the moment.
Chapter Seventeen
The three of them— Conor, Elise, and Merle— refilled their glasses at the bar. Merle looked nonchalant like Conor so Elise tried to dial back her excitement. After all, it was not good form to be invested in someone else’s failures as an upright citizen. Still, hard to deny that a deserving comeuppance was satisfying. Pauline stood alone by the fireplace, examining family photographs on the mantel. Aubrey, Freddy, and the children left the room, off for dinner.
Conor set the room key to on the mantel. He hadn’t bothered to lock Duncan in his room. Pauline slipped it into her hand surreptitiously. Isabelle rose and walked casually to Conor, pulling him toward the other side of the room to speak privately. She pulled out her mobile phone. “What is this?” she whispered, indicating the photo he’d sent. Elise moved closer.
“Found in their room,” he said. “What is it?”
“A sedative, an anti-anxiety drug like Xanax.” She glanced at the label again. “It calms you down. Makes you sleepy.”
Conor flinched slightly. “Duncan was out cold. Couldn’t rouse him. Also found whisky in his room.”
“Sedatives mixed with alcohol?” Isabelle shivered and shook her head. “This can’t continue. She must leave.”
“There’s more,” Conor said, still in a whisper, touching his mother’s arm to keep her calm. “She has some sort of relationship with Gabriel. She went to their room the day Sabine disappeared. There was an argument. Afterwards he sent her a text.” He looked at Elise. She handed over the mobile phone. He opened it and gave it to his mother.
Isabelle stiffened with anger. “What does this mean? Is this Gabriel?”
Conor shrugged. “Presumably. We aren’t sure what the argument was about.”
“I’m calling the Inspector,” Isabelle whispered. “Tell them I’m checking on dinner.” She strode to the hallway, grabbed a sweater, and went out the front door.
Elise walked to the window with Pauline’s phone in her pocket. She hadn’t read all the texts yet. There were several more in French, short ones. She gestured to her sister to join her. With their backs to the room, Merle took the phone. “Read those for me,” Elise whispered.
“It says: ‘Where are you?’ Then: ‘Why don’t you answer?’”
“That’s it?” Elise asked.
“One more says: ‘When can I meet you?’” Merle handed the phone back. “All to the same number.”
“What if we called that number?” Elise asked.
“It might tip him off,” Merle whispered. “You assume it’s Gabriel?”
Elise shrugged. “Or another boyfriend. Or even Louis Bordeaux, who knows.”
Merle looked over her shoulder. “Put the phone away. She’s coming.”
Pauline was right behind them as they turned from the window. “Beautiful evening, yes? What are you looking at?”
“Just the sky,” Merle said quickly.
“So silky,” Elise remarked, smiling.
Pauline looked between them suspiciously. “Another glass of wine?”
“I’m good.” Merle raised her full glass.
“Me too. Just got a refill,” Elise said. “But go ahead. It’s open bar here at Monnow House. You gotta love it.”
“Oh, I guess I’ll wait until dinner. I don’t normally drink wine at all,” Pauline said. A lame excuse since they’d all seen her drinking wine at every meal and cocktail party.
“What’s your favorite?” Elise asked. “I’m trying to learn more about wine.”
“Um, Sancerre?” Pauline said. “Do you know it?”
“Oh yes. One of my favorites,” Merle said.
Elise batted her eyelashes at her sister. What a stupid conversation. When would Pascal return, or Isabelle? Or the police? How long would they have to wait? Her exhilaration had turned to anxiety.
“Excuse me. I need Conor for a second,” Elise said, disengaging from the nonsense. She found her boyfriend staring at his mobile phone by the fireplace. “Oh my god, that Pauline is—” She glanced at Conor again. “What is it?”
“Pascal. He’s found out a bit more about Agnés Loup.”
“What?”
“He is waiting for Inspector Powe then all will be revealed.”
“Damn him,” Elise swore under her breath. “The suspense is killing me.”
The wait for Isabelle, Pascal, and Inspector Powe would take half an hour. The grandfather clock would chime six times. Wineglasses would be refilled. The fire would be fed with fresh logs. Gini would arrive with a tray of hors d’oeuvres as she always did, one pass then she was gone. Elise wanted more than one melon wrapped with prosciutto but she restrained herself.
At last a police car arrived, gliding silently up the drive without fanfare. In a few minutes Isabelle appeared, rubbing her arms for warmth. She walked to the fireplace and held out her hands against the flames.
“Is he here?” Conor whispered.
She nodded. “Pascal is talking to him.”
Elise drained her wineglass. Her anticipation was back, big time. She set her glass on the mantel and turned as Pascal, Inspector Powe, and a constable entered the cottage.
Evans stood up. “Inspector. What do we owe the pleasure?”
“We have some questions for Miss Lajoie,” he said, looking at Pauline. “Can you come with me please?”
“Questions? Quoi que. . .?” Pauline went paler than she already was.
“Miss, please. This way.” He looked at Evans. “Can we use your office, sir?”
Everyone watched Pauline as she held her head high, strutting as always, leading the policeman and his constable out of the room. The library door shut gently behind them.
Then the attention of the room shifted to Pascal. He appeared not to notice and walked to the bar for a glass of wine. Merle bumped him with her elbow. “Well? What did you find out?”
He turned to the room to find all eyes on him. He spoke at a volume for all to hear. “It took a little digging back in Paris by my colleagues. But
