I was mega excited to share my discovery with Blag, but he remained at the wheel, eyes closed. I looked around us and saw the little cemetery we had just passed, jutting out into the surrounding countryside. I guess when a country is as old as France you’ve got a lot of dead people to accommodate, but it did seem that cemeteries were becoming a motif on this journey. Soft clouds drifted overhead, a few birds sang, and the hiss from the cab’s overworked engine slowly gave way to silence. We had rolled to a stop just inside the gate to an ancient walled village. Above the gate, set into the stone, was a saint-like figure, looking not unlike our vanished passenger. I spotted a pendant dangling on a chain from the mirror that hadn’t been there before. It depicted an old man carrying a child across a river and said, “St. Christopher.”
“He’s the patron saint of travellers,” said Blag, breaking his silence, “or he was until he got demoted.”
“Demoted? Isn’t it a permanent position, you know, once a saint always a saint?”
“No, it’s like the Brazilian soccer team that got moved to the second division. The fans cried ‘bogus,’ people rioted, but c’est la vie.” This seemed like a bit of a stretch, but Blag was in a weakened state after our thrill ride through the forest.
“So that’s who led us through the woods?” I know I sounded doubtful.
“I dunno, but I’m going to thank Chris anyway. I mean we’re here, wherever here is.”
I smiled as Blag blinked and looked around. “I think here is Saint-Paul de Vence.” He looked stunned. “Check this out.”
Blag slowly got out of the cab, steadying himself like he was on the deck of a ship.
I pointed to the patterns of flowers on the stone street. Blag slowly grinned. “I think you’re right, kiddo,” He looked at the town ahead of us, strangely quiet. “What’s the rest of the clue say?”
“Walk and you’ll be seeing well,” I replied.
“Care to take in the sights of Saint-Paul?” he asked, and started up the hill, leaving our car parked at the town gate.
Saint-Paul defined quaint. It was one tiny street after another of charming shops, cafés, and houses with colourful laundry strung outside of second-floor windows. Rising voices greeted us as we rounded the corner past some civic buildings. In the centre of the town square a gathering of people of all ages surrounded a stone well.
“I guess we’re ‘seeing well,’” I said and Blag nodded, smiling as the crowd saw us approaching. They broke into a cheer.
“Partypoppers!”
We were draped with garlands of flowers, symbolic of our first-day victory in the rally. Amid the cheering, Blag whispered, “If you tell Tawdry I was wearing flowers around my neck, I’ll be seriously unhappy.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Monsieur Lafleur.” I was more grateful for the hot cider and croissants that came with the flowers.
A whining engine drowned us out and a tank-like taxi rolled into the square, barely squeezing between the ancient buildings, scattering people and pigeons. Margot jumped out and stood, hands on hips, glaring at Blag. The crowd quieted like it was expecting to witness a duel. “High Noon at Saint-Paul” continued when I spotted Leo, still in the passenger seat. I suppressed a smile as he waved to me, looking more than a little amazed.
The two remaining Marauder cabs pulled in behind Margot just as Dizzy and Mink rolled up to the square from a narrow street on the other side of the well.
“Well, well, well, someone must know a magic spell,” said Mink, obviously surprised but happy to see us.
Dizzy rushed up to me with a look of concern. “I was worried when we lost you. I guess I should have had more faith in your navigational skills, Mademoiselle Mac.”
I shrugged, not ready to venture an explanation for our strange journey. “Thanks, Dizzy. I think we got lucky on this one.”
Blag and Margot were still having an adult staring contest when Margot did that ridiculous gesture where you point at your own eyes, and then as if to say “I’m watching you” point at the other person. To my complete surprise, they both burst out laughing at the same moment. Margot’s next gesture involved miming raising a glass, and Blag seemed more pleased with the prospect than I would have thought.