Pippa was only aware of chaos. First, people running out of the shops along the street, yelling, pointing, waving at cars to stop so they didn’t hit the pig’s head. Or, maybe it was her they were trying to protect. She wasn’t sure how she had come to be sitting in the middle of the street, and she couldn’t seem to control her own weeping. The sound of police car sirens only made things worse. It looked like two police cars were edging their way into the confusion. Several uniformed officers spilled out of the cars, waving and shouting. What if it wasn’t only that ugly head? What if all this fuss was because there was a dead body somewhere?
Several people tried to help her, but they only made her feel claustrophobic with their hovering. “My friend, where is she? Is she all right?” Pippa said through her hiccupping sobs, hoping her voice was loud enough to be heard. She stood up on weak legs and lurched toward the sidewalk. A man steered her to a spot at the curb that she collapsed onto until she realized she was looking directly at the pig, which was leering back at her. She stumbled to her feet again, fought to quell her stomach, and pulled away. “No, no, I need to find my friend,” she said, “please let me go.” Shaking off the would-be rescuer’s grip, she made her way toward Katherine, who was leaning against a building wall thirty feet away, surrounded by onlookers.
The policewoman who had been so unfriendly at the station a short time ago appeared next to her. Ordering the bystanders away in a tone of voice not to be disobeyed, she put her hand on Pippa’s shoulder and patted her gently. Pippa looked over and saw Katherine coming toward her. She grabbed her friend in a hard hug. “Oh, Katherine, I’m so sorry,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life. What was it? Is that … that thing … still here?”
“It was a stupid joke,” Katherine said in a scratchy voice. “In very bad taste, of course. Are you all right now?” Turning to the policewoman, who was listening but who might not have understood all of what they had said, Katherine said something in French, then turned back. “I told her you need some strong tea and asked if we could sit in the café over there while they check this out.”
Tea suddenly sounded essential to Pippa. New tears clouding her vision, she said, “I was so afraid something had happened to you. I couldn’t think straight. Even now, I can’t bear to look at my car.” But she did feel a bit more like herself. The sights and sounds around her were coming into focus, as was the reality of what had happened.
At that moment, Philippe joined them, his face pale, speaking first in rapid French to his partner, who nodded and hurried off. His eyes were flashing and Pippa felt dizzy again. She noticed other policemen examining the car. Someone in a uniform was crouched by her door with a video camera. The watchers had been shooed off, although some were still standing at a distance, talking animatedly among themselves and staring at her.
Philippe touched her arm to get her attention. “Will you come back to the station with me? I think we can find some tea for you both. You will need sugar too, for the shock, I think.” He looked genuinely concerned as he held out his hand, but when she reached for it, she was too blinded by tears to make contact, and crumpled back again to the cold pavement. It was too much. Her stomach was still unsettled and her legs hurt and the kinder Philippe was to her, the stupider she felt. She heard Katherine accept hot tea for both of them, and when her friend and Philippe together hoisted her to her feet, she held on to Katherine’s arm and ducked her head, hoping Philippe wouldn’t see her looking so ugly. They slowly walked the block to the gendarmerie, her legs threatening to go weak again at every step.
“Convenient that this happened right next to the police station,” Katherine said in a low mutter that was probably meant to convey humor. For Pippa, the coincidence was no laughing matter. She was relieved that after the first minute, she hadn’t needed to do anything. The car, the mess, the crowd, all of it was too much. She wanted her father, in truth.
The lobby was swarming with uniformed police, all in action on their cell phones, or shouting to one another, or putting on jackets and hats. Pippa and Katherine followed Philippe into the big room where they had met earlier. He pulled up two chairs next to his desk and the women sank into them.
“Do you have your car keys?” Philippe asked Pippa gently. “We will want to check out the car for fingerprints and any sign of who did this, and then bring it to our garage.”
Pippa shook her head as much to get rid of the buzzing in her ears as to answer him. Feeling for them in her coat pockets, she said, “I must have dropped them.”
“She’s in shock,” Katherine said to Philippe. “She needs that sweet tea before anything else.” Yes, Pippa thought, please, please.
“Of course. Bien sûr.” He waved at an older officer who was standing in the doorway and in a few minutes the man returned with two mugs.
The three of them sat without speaking for a few minutes. The tea was helping. Gradually, Pippa felt warmth returning to her limbs and her face. Her stomach stopped flipping as long as she blocked the image of the pig’s bloody head from her mind.
The light outside the window had faded and Pippa noticed a single strand of holiday lights visible in the storefront across the street poking out through the gloom. Philippe left them to confer with other officers in the hallway, their voices low and less urgent now that the shock of the moment was over.
“Oh, I say, should you call Michael?” Pippa said into the silence, jerking upright from her slump in the uncomfortable chair with the sudden realization that while she might be alone in France, her friend wasn’t.
Katherine had been staring into her mug. She looked tired and Pippa noticed lines on her face that she’d never seen before. “I’ve been postponing the moment. He’ll be worried now that it’s dark. Since he doesn’t usually answer the phone, I have to hope he’ll guess it’s me and pick up. He’ll be upset when he hears about this.”
“He should be. I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I had no idea anyone would get angry at me.”
“You think it’s related to our asking questions about the murder?” Katherine said, keeping her voice low. “I thought it was a prank, or at least I want to think so. We haven’t been doing anything dangerous, as far as I can see. We certainly don’t know who killed Mme Sabine.”
Pippa wondered if Katherine was rehearsing what she would say to Michael. He was a lovely man and one didn’t want to say bad things about a celebrity in the neighborhood, but he could be a bit of a dragon at times.
“They found your car keys next to the car,” Philippe said, taking long strides from the doorway back to his desk. “That’s a good thing, yes?” He smiled at Pippa.
“Gosh, yes. I guess I lost them when … well, you know. I can’t remember much about the first few bloody minutes. I’m so glad you found them. May I have them back, and can we go now? I am feeling much more like myself. Katherine is too, aren’t you?”
“I would ask you to stay a little longer, if you will. My boss wishes to ask you a few questions. Then, someone will drive you—both of you—home to Reigny.”
“I can’t take my car? Is it, uh, dirty?”
“We have to inspect it for clues. When we are done, we will let you know and you can pick up the car. Or, someone from here can escort you back, if that will help. But in the meantime, we must do everything to learn who did this to you. Do you have any idea why someone chose your car to defile?”
Philippe was kind. He would understand and not judge her. She wanted to tell him everything. But if she did, she’d have to explain the gold cross and the thought of doing that closed her throat as if she, not Mme Sabine, was being choked. “No, not really. I only know one teenager here and she’s not the type to be cruel.”
“You think it was ados?”
“Adolescents, you mean? Not necessarily,” Katherine said quickly. “I’m sure she didn’t mean that. But vandals of some sort. Have there been other incidents like this recently?”
Pippa understood. The last thing Katherine wanted was to have the police interview Jeannette. The girl had gone through enough drama last summer, and everyone knew her father’s business practices couldn’t bear much official scrutiny. “No, I didn’t mean schoolkids, not really. My mind’s gone blank, that’s all. I can’t think of a soul who would do this. Maybe it was random.”
Philippe made a sound as if to say her theory was worth considering, drummed his fingers on the desk for a few seconds, then said, “Let me take you up to meet Captain Borde.”
* * *
The captain, an older man who looked as if he enjoyed his lunches a great deal, invited them into a smaller office, where he closed the door after waving them to upholstered chairs that were a little more comfortable than the plain wooden ones in the lobby and the officers’ big room. Rubbing his hands together, he greeted them politely but with no warmth.
“We met before,” he said, looking at Katherine. “At the museum, you recall? This new incident was remarkable, mesdames, and quite an upset for the people on the street who saw it. I wonder what can have caused it? Do you know?” He spoke in French.
Pippa stared at him, willing her brain to decipher what his mouth was saying, to no avail. Katherine stepped in, said something in French, then in English, “It was even more of a trauma for us, I assure you.”
“Ah, no French, Madame?” he replied, switching to a heavily accented English. Pippa silently swore she would either learn some French, dammit, or go back to King’s Cross and never set foot in this country again. But not today. Today, she had to keep her wits about her until she knew if she was in danger.
“It was your car?” The gendarme swiveled his stare to her and she felt suddenly like a bug under a magnifying glass.
“Yes, mine.”
“It appears that your car door was opened illegally. There are scratches where something was jammed into the window sleeve.”
“Is it a mess, the inside of my car, I mean?” She looked up at him, shoulders hunched against what he might tell her.
“Well, we won’t worry about that right now, will we? What I’d like to know now is if you knew M. and Mme Sabine? Did you shop there?”
“Not often. But do you mean had I ever been in there or seen them? Yes, on the rare occasions I couldn’t live without a French version of bangers and mash.” Pippa tried to smile. Her attempt at a mild joke fell flat. Perhaps it was a translation problem.
“And did you ever see either of them outside of the shop?”
Now she was puzzled. “No, not that I can recall.”
“You’re single, if I understand correctly,” he said, leaning back in his chair, fiddling with a pen. “Have a boyfriend here?”
“No.” What was this? she wondered. Had the policewoman been gossiping about her? Did everyone know she thought Philippe was cute? Why would this man take it so seriously?
“Maybe have one back in England?”
“I really don’t see—,” she began before he sat forward, the chair legs thumping on the floor.
“I am wondering if you had some interest in M. Sabine. He is, after all, an attractive man.”
Pippa noticed Katherine was looking alarmed, and now her friend spoke. “Now, wait a minute. You sound as if you suspect Pippa of being involved in the death of Mme Sabine, which is not only preposterous but impossible.”
Involved? How could he think that? Pippa thought, and her breath became labored. “See here,” she said, feeling her throat tighten. “You’re frightening me. My car was vandalized. I can’t see how you could possibly suggest that because someone broke into my car that I, or it, have anything to do with the murder of that woman.” She should have felt righteous anger but Pippa was terrified. Terrified without reason, she tried to remind herself, but to no avail.
“There was something else in your car. Perhaps you didn’t notice it?”
“Something else? How would I have noticed something else after what fell in front of me?”
He said nothing, but looked at her with interest.
“No, nothing else. What was it?” She looked at Katherine, who was frowning. What she needed right this instant was a fresh cup of hot tea. Without it, her brain and her strength were failing fast. And, she noticed, her hands were shaking badly. She shoved them in her coat pockets.
“This,” he said and picked up a cellophane envelope from his desk, in which was a single sheet of paper. “It was on the front seat.”
“What is it?” Pippa said, reaching for it. But the captain pulled the envelope out of her reach.
“It is a note, Madame, presumably, like the boar’s head, addressed to you and put in your distinctive automobile. Shall I read it to you?”
Pippa nodded.
“When I tell you what it says, maybe you can help me understand.” He cleared his throat, looked hard at her, and read, ‘I know what you’re doing. I am watching you.’ Now, what could that mean, Madame?”