Katherine was happy. Her husband was home. Someone else could roll out of bed early to take the dogs on their first walk of the day. She could hear humming coming from the kitchen, and smelled coffee. Michael was having a one-sided conversation with the animals when she finished dressing and joined him.
“Your rock-and-roll-star husband needs to lug more firewood in while it’s not raining and fix the tarp over the storage shed roof that got loose while I was gone. Okay with you,” Michael said, his mouth full of brioche toast, “if I hang around today and do stuff like that?”
Should she give him a list of chores, Katherine thought as she sank into the chaise with a cup of Michael’s strong coffee, only partially tamed with copious quantities of hot milk? Would it dampen his enthusiasm to know the fence bordering the alleyway was leaning dangerously, dragged down by the climbing rose she had not gotten around to pruning? Or that the gate was squealing terribly? “That’s fine. I have plenty to do today myself.”
As she sat jolted by the caffeine but before she could organize her day properly, there was a knock at the kitchen door. Michael opened it and Pippa stepped back from the threshold. “Oh, I say, I didn’t realize you were home. Maybe I should come back later.”
“Howdy. Come on in,” Michael said, brushing the crumbs from his hands. “How’s the book doing?”
“Coming along rather well, I think, although some days I’m ready to toss the whole thing into the rubbish bin.” Pippa ducked her head as she crossed to the main room where Katherine was now kneeling in front of a bookcase jammed with volumes of every size. “I read in a magazine that it’s normal to feel that way right about this place in the story, which helps. Katherine, I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind driving to Avallon with me today. I might need some translating help.” She gave Katherine a look that Katherine interpreted as meaning there was a special purpose in the request.
“I was hoping not to go anywhere today,” Katherine said, pulling herself to a standing position and reminding herself a little yoga now and then wouldn’t be a bad idea for aging joints.
“Don’t stay here on my account.” Michael reached around her to take an old jacket off a peg on the wall, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek as he did. “Once I get going, I’m going to be all mud and grumbling. You know me. I’ll keep finding things that need fixing. You go if you like.”
“Have you told Michael about the murder?” Pippa said. “Does he know what we think?”
Michael stopped in the act of putting on his Stetson and turned to look at Katherine.
“I was going to,” Katherine said as heat rose to her face, “but it doesn’t really touch us and I didn’t want to worry you while you had more important things on your mind.”
“But we found the body,” Pippa said, oblivious to the rapidly changing climate in the room.
“You found a body?” The hat returned to the peg and its owner swiveled his head from one woman to the other, his mouth tightening. “You’d better explain because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Pippa opened her mouth, but Katherine jumped in first. “It was only a coincidence. The woman was already dead and the whole tour group saw her in the salon. I was with the group. So was Pippa, but everyone actually discovered her, if you see what I mean.”
“Which I don’t,” Michael said.
“It wasn’t in Reigny, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Pippa said. “It was at the museum in Avallon, and we think the police suspect the butcher, but we aren’t so sure.”
“The butcher?”
“The poor man is gobsmacked. It’s clear he couldn’t have strangled her. And then there’s the mystery of the mannequin in the river.” Pippa ran a hand through her spiky hair. “It is rather confusing, I know.”
“You could say that. Katherine, you realize this is making no sense to me. Were you even going to tell me what’s going on?”
The warm mood that had prevailed since he got home was gone and Katherine could have strangled Pippa for spoiling it. She had planned to tell Michael, but in a way that minimized her connection to the crime, and made it clear she had no interest in solving it. Taking a deep breath, she said, “It only sounds like I’m involved. I thought I’d tell you all about it later, when we weren’t so busy, maybe over dinner.”
Pippa seemed to realize belatedly that she had caused something between husband and wife, and started to back out of the room. “I’ll come back later, shall I?”
“No,” Katherine said. “Sit. I’ll make you a cup of tea. Michael, please believe me, this is a police investigation, we are casual bystanders who got caught up in the drama for an hour or two, and it’s only because the town is buzzing that we’re still talking about it.”
“You want to tell me who died at least, and why someone suspects the butcher?”
“It’s the couple who own the business, the Sabines. She was strangled, maybe at the Musée du Costume, or maybe brought there after she was killed.”
“Dressed up in a costume,” Pippa said. “That’s why the mannequin was dumped, you see.”
“I’ll tell this,” Katherine said, shooting a look at the young woman.
“Oh, right.”
“Wait, this is the shop on the main street that sells my veal sausages? That couple?” Michael sat down. “I can’t believe it. And the police think he killed her?”
“We don’t actually know that,” Katherine said. “The police aren’t saying much and the town’s full of rumors. You know, serial killers on the loose, or a crime of passion—you name it.”
“A crime of passion? I hadn’t heard that,” Pippa said. “Does that mean he thought she had a lover? I wouldn’t think there was enough privacy around here to carry on an affair.”
Michael lifted both hands. “Hold up, you two. Katherine, give me the basics, in some kind of order. And please tell me you are not poking around thinking you can solve whatever it is.”
Katherine handed a sheepish Pippa a mug of steaming tea—herbal as a punishment—took a deep breath, and recounted the sequence of events, eliminating every ounce of drama she could. She left out her recent visit to the museum, the scrap of paper she had taken, and the gossip she had happened to hear at the dentist’s and the chocolate shop. Nothing had happened when she dropped by the gendarmerie, so she didn’t think there was any reason to mention that.
“And what was that about a store dummy?” Michael said when she was finished, turning to Pippa.
The budding mystery writer paused before answering. “It’s only that when whoever did it substituted Madame’s body for a costumed mannequin, they decided to take away the mannequin and dump it in the river at L’Isle-sur-Serein.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“That’s it, of course. No one knows.”
“No one? How do you know that?”
“Well, you’re right, of course. Perhaps the police do know, but they’re not telling us.”
“I wonder,” Michael said, “if this means you’ve asked. I’m just guessing here.”
Again, Katherine beat Pippa. “Of course not, although the gendarmes apparently questioned Pippa since she happened to be there when they pulled the dummy out of the river.”
“Another coincidence?” Michael said, getting up and reaching for his hat. “I’ve made an executive decision. I know I can’t stop the two of you from whatever amateur snooping around you decide to do. Three rules only for you, Katherine. Don’t do anything that brings the police or Reigny’s sheriff to the door. Don’t do anything that puts you—or Pippa—in danger. And remember to be home by dark. Otherwise I’ll worry about you.”
The door closed behind him. Not slammed, Katherine noted, which was a good sign. He either didn’t take them seriously, or he trusted her. She decided not to spend any time figuring out which was more likely.
* * *
Pippa had cajoled every bit of the crime-of-passion theory proposed by the chocolate shop owner out of Katherine before they reached the outskirts of Avallon. Katherine, glad to confess to someone who would understand, told her about the scrap of paper that turned out to be related to a church group in Beaune. “It was probably dropped by one of the church ladies during their tour of the museum, so it means nothing.”
“Ah, but it means the police didn’t do a thorough job of searching the salon,” Pippa said, the eagerness in her voice unmistakable. “It could mean that the missing wig is still there.”
“I don’t know why you attach so much meaning to it,” Katherine said as the young woman edged her bright red car in between two others along the main street, not far from the museum. “What will it mean if it shows up in the river, or in the street, or in the salon?”
There was a pause, then a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t feel I have a firm grip on this.”
Katherine bit her tongue. Really, the two of them were equally foolish. Michael’s implication that they were chasing something they knew nothing about and had no capability to solve wasn’t far from the truth. Why did she let herself get so caught up in it? Was it perhaps to prove something to herself after last summer’s debacle? That, maybe, she wasn’t a complete idiot?
She was saved again from uncomfortable self-examination by her more optimistic neighbor, who had jumped out of the car and was shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. “First, can we get the local paper and see what news there might be?”
They ducked back into the comparatively warm car so Katherine could scan for an update on the murder. “Ah, here it is,” Katherine muttered as she translated the story. “As best I can figure out, the investigation is still open, the police have satisfied themselves that the husband’s alibi during the time in question has been substantiated. At least that’s what I assume the word means since it’s the only conclusion I can draw from the rest of the sentence. ‘Alibi,’ at least, is the same.”
“So they don’t know who did it, but it wasn’t the husband.” Pippa tapped her front teeth with a fingernail. “Do they say where he said he was?”
“If they do, I’m not seeing it. I still have a lot to learn about the language. But in the States, I’m not sure they’d say that in a newspaper comment anyway.” She turned the page. “Oh, wait. Look, here’s a picture of M. Sabine and a different story. It’s an interview.”
Katherine was silent for a few minutes. “Okay. Says something about if he’d known of danger to his dear wife, he wouldn’t have been at his ‘jeu de cartes.’ Hmmm, I’ll check my dictionary when I get home but I think it means his poker game.”
“Well, that’s that, then,” Pippa said. “Unless it was solitaire, there was at least one other person present. So, jolly for us. One suspect eliminated.”
“He says something about the memorial service and that he is praying the monstre—the monster—has left the area.” She folded the paper. “I have an idea. Michael could hardly object. We should go to the service, to pay our respects.”
“And look to see if the monster is there? Yes, I’ve read that killers sometimes come back to the scene of the crime, although I’m not clear on why.” Pippa’s voice trailed off, and she pulled out her notebook and scribbled something.
She turned to look at Katherine, grimacing slightly. “I say, have you ever had the feeling someone was following you? It’s only that I’ve felt that way recently even though there’s nothing I can prove. It’s odd.”
“I’m sure it’s your imagination, Pippa. You’ve gotten caught up with all this murder investigation business. Maybe you should quit, and get back to the book. You don’t want to get paranoid.”
Pippa nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. After all, I never saw anyone, or a car, that I could honestly say stayed behind me for long. All right, then, onward, to the museum.”
They stopped at a boulangerie for a paper bag of round, crusty rolls, which Pippa had discovered were Madame’s favorites, and made their way toward the museum. “Your discovery means there may still be something that the police have overlooked.”
“I seriously doubt it, Pippa, and I’m afraid Madame and Josée will refuse to let us in again. We’re as much of a nuisance as the police.”
“Oh, no, Madame always nods and smiles. I only wish I understood French.”
“Suggestion,” Katherine said as they walked up the slate path to the museum’s front door, “take French lessons in the new year. If you want to live among the French, it’s only fair.”
The door opened before Pippa could answer and Katherine had to admit the welcome was warmer than she would have expected. Madame peeked into the bag Pippa thrust at her and cooed, pulling the two visitors in and locking the door behind them. “Bonjour, bonjour, mesdames. Le temps est si froid, n’est-ce pas?” Katherine agreed that it was cold and Pippa pantomimed being chilly.
Josée came out from behind the curtained doorway to the apartment. Her pleasure at seeing them was explained when she said she had to do some errands for her mother—the post office, the pharmacy, the shoe repair shop—and she didn’t like leaving the older woman alone so long. Her mother beamed, made a two-handed gesture that dismissed her daughter’s concerns, but added that she would love company in any case. “The museum needs to close in the winter because I will have all of the salons to redesign for the next show, and Josée and I will have to mend costumes and fit the models, so many of them. But I do miss the tourists who like so much what we show them. It is quiet in winter.”
Madame’s comment gave Katherine the opportunity she was looking for and without stopping to translate for Pippa, she posed a question. “What about the costume that was so roughly put on poor Mme Sabine? Will you be able to repair it?”
“Sadly, no,” Madame said, shaking her head. “It was torn beyond repair, especially since it had so many tiny sequins on the bodice. Ruined, and such a unique dress too.”
“Unique?”
“Did you notice how demure it was, much more than other dresses of the day? The bodice was high, no décolletage, the skirt was not close fitting, and instead of gloves, it had long sleeves of plain black satin. No, this dress belonged to a well-known Burgundian lady who was famous for her modesty.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Katherine said and translated the gist of Madame’s comments to Pippa.
“Yes, religious she was, known for bringing baskets to the poor and supplying the church where she lived with a stained-glass window. There weren’t many society ladies in her time who dressed as she did. It was quite a find and my dear Josée is desolate. The gendarmes took the dress away as evidence or I would show what was left of it to you.”
“I suppose all the dresses were made for wasp-waisted women so nothing on display would have been a more logical fit.”
“Josée says the terrible man who did this chose it because he needed to lay poor Mme Sabine down and this figure had been on the chaise. Although why he needed to bring her into my beautiful museum, my treasure-house…” Madame trailed off and her rheumy eyes filled with tears.
Katherine reached for the old lady’s hand. That was the question, wasn’t it? she thought. The victim had no more connection to the museum than anyone else in Avallon who might have come for a tour. And then, why take the mannequin and throw it in the Serein? The whole business was so melodramatic and seemed designed to make a statement. What if the crime of passion had been committed not by the husband but by a jealous lover? The man in Beaune that someone had seen with Mme Sabine. Maybe he was in the same church group that Josephine Lacrois and the victim had been in, which could be how they met. She’d have to check, ask Josephine some discreet questions.
While she had been wandering mentally, the museum curator had disappeared into her apartment. Now, she came back with a photograph of a mannequin dressed elegantly. “Ici, here is the dress. Beautiful, isn’t it? We take photos of everything before each exhibit opens, and I create a catalog for the archives so we know what we displayed each time. After so many years, I need to aid my memory.”
Katherine passed the picture to Pippa, who made appreciative noises and said, “Dark brown wig and piled into some kind of twist. Can you ask her if the wig was like that or if she put up the hair?”
“No, I am no good at that,” Madame said when Katherine had translated as best she could. “There was a lovely lady who had a wig shop here in Avallon years ago. Alas, the business did not do well and when she closed she offered me a good price on any stock I liked. I think Josée and I picked out a dozen or more. Such a bargain and you know we never have much money. Of course, none of it was real hair, but that is good for us, less upkeep. We have so little storage that we glue the pieces on the mannequins permanently and change the style if we must. This was one of them, a classic twist.”
Pippa got up and, in a lively game of charades, asked and received permission to go once more to the salon. Madame lifted her palms and shrugged. Clearly, she didn’t understand Pippa’s obsession for the room where the body had been discovered, but by now she had gotten used to the young woman.
Katherine trailed Pippa up the stairs, which were dark since Madame was understandably frugal with electricity when the building wasn’t open to tourists. At the doorway of the infamous salon at the top of the stairs, Pippa pulled a small flashlight from her coat pocket and began probing into the darkest corners. “I knew I’d need a torch,” she said over her shoulder. “That wig must be somewhere. You’re right that I don’t know what finding it would prove, but I can’t help thinking it might carry some clue, especially because the killer must have pulled it hard to get it off the mannequin’s head, right?”
“If you find it, then, don’t touch it,” Katherine said. “If you think the murderer handled it, his DNA might be on it. You wouldn’t want yours on it too.”
“I should say not, especially since Philippe thinks I might be the killer.”
“Wait,” Katherine said. “What are you talking about?”
Pippa got up from the floor, from where she’d been shining the light under a deep armoire, and dusted her pants. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you. Philippe came ’round to my house and asked me a lot of questions that I think mean he, or at least the police in charge, is suspicious of me. You know, having been here and then in L’Isle-sur-Serein at the right times?”
“Well, that’s ridiculous. I hope you told him so.”
“I did, or at least I think I did. I was so rattled, you know. Embarrassed, really. Katherine,” she said, coming over to stand with her in the doorway, “I’m not sure I did the right thing. Seeing as how he was so suspicious already, I didn’t dare tell him about the cross, or show it to him. I mean, if he saw I had it, and if it was hers, I think he might have arrested me.”
Katherine privately wondered if Pippa was right. There were some aspects of Pippa’s activities that were hard to explain unless you knew her. “Look, you have no motive unless you thought she cheated you over the price of some pâté.”
“Pâté? Are you daft? I can’t afford pâté. The most I ever bought from them was a few pork and apple sausages at a time.”
Katherine clapped her hands together and said, “That’s it. We have to go to the police, give them the cross, and explain that it’s curiosity on your part. I’ll make sure the man in charge knows you could not possibly be a credible suspect. If necessary, I’ll track down the lieutenant who managed the investigation last summer. He turned out to be quite reasonable in the end.”
“That’s good of you, but I don’t have the cross with me. I tucked it inside my manuscript notepad where it would be safe.”
“Then we’ll tell them about it, and your handsome Philippe can drive out with you and pick it up. Michael was right, you know. On the off chance that the person who did it is in Avallon, we don’t want him to know you and I are too interested in this.”
“Wait. You told me I was being silly to think that.”
Remembering Pippa’s worry that she was being followed, Katherine nodded. “Maybe Michael’s made me think twice, although I know no one has followed us when we’ve been together, so I do think it was your imagination.”
“I’ve decided it was the lover in Beaune, and he’s far from here by now,” Pippa said. “Let me finish searching this room, and then maybe we can go to the police, but only if you’re with me. Please?”
“Of course. We’ll even have lunch first at a bistro I like. I need to buy fresh eggs and perhaps a piece of fish at the lovely indoor market which is close to where we can eat. Michael and I finished the beef stew last night. Silly me, I had thought there would be leftovers. In two weeks, I forgot how much he eats.” She smiled, glad again that her husband was home even if he was already disapproving of her interest in the affair of Mme Sabine.