Pippa opened her mouth but couldn’t say a word. This was bad. It could only mean that someone had noticed her asking questions about the wig, visiting the museum, maybe even finding the cross. Had the murderer been in L’Isle-sur-Serein that day? Lurking around the museum? Talking to Madame, the owner?
The captain was waiting for an answer, his gaze sharp on her face. Katherine spoke first. “Was it in French, Captain? You read it in English, but I wondered.”
“French, Madame. Short and to the point, I should say. But to what point is what I am asking your friend.”
“Yes, I see,” Katherine said. “It is a puzzle.” Pippa figured Katherine was stalling and she exchanged looks with her co-investigator, wishing she could speak with her privately. She was being threatened by someone who didn’t want her to snoop into this death, someone who showed his power with evil flair.
“Yes, all right,” she blurted before she could change her mind. “You see, I was asking questions. I just wanted to know more about why poor Mme Sabine was killed and I thought if I could research a real crime, it would help with my book.”
“Book?”
“Well, yes, you see, I write detective fiction, or rather murder mysteries, and I—”
He held up a hand in a gesture that he had probably perfected standing at traffic intersections. It worked. “You have been investigating on your own something that is gendarme business? Perhaps following my officers to observe their activities? And why would you do that, I wonder. Would that be for a story or to see if we were getting closer to a solution, a solution that might involve you directly?”
He looked pleased with himself, as if he had pulled a rabbit out of a hat, Pippa thought. His conclusion was so idiotic that it calmed her down a bit. She flashed on an image of Peter Sellers, playing the inept Inspector Clouseau in her favorite childhood films. Once this puffed-up captain understood, he would abandon this theory and apologize to her, and she would be gracious. She drew a deep breath. “Not at all. I think you don’t understand how we writers work. We gather information so we can use it, disguised of course, when we make up stories.” She even smiled.
He dashed her picture of an easy resolution immediately. “Disguise, invent, embroider, yes, I understand completely. And that is what I fear you may be doing at this moment.”
“Now wait,” Katherine said, squirming in her chair, “this is silly. Pippa was in the van with me before the body was found that day. She only saw the corpse when the rest of us did, and she never went into the room.”
“That may be, but the crime happened before you found the body, some time before, we have deduced.”
Pippa was startled into a protest. “I didn’t know the Sabines beyond hello, I would rather die myself than kill someone, and you need to be focusing on whoever did this to my car. Whoever it is might or might not be trying to implicate me, but I think it’s likely it is the killer who left the note. You must see that.” She wasn’t altogether sure he did, but he seemed to have run out of steam for the moment.
Katherine cleared her throat. “Okay, I need to call my husband now. We live in Reigny-sur-Canne. He’ll be worried. He could come pick us up if you need to keep the car. Pippa’s right, you know, although I don’t like the idea. Someone’s been watching her and wants to scare her off. She should have police protection at home, don’t you think?”
The captain frowned and shook his head. “I am prepared to let you return home for now, but I cannot spare anyone to spend time in Reigny watching for troublemakers. If—and I emphasize if—there is even a soupçon of truth in what you say, the person who did this will have made his point, especially since you will be doing no more research, as you call it. If we need you, we will be in touch.
“Madame,” he said, turning to Katherine, “you will be driven home also, although we may need to speak to you again as well. I have been told your husband is famous but, je vous assure, it will not protect you if you are part of a cabal.”
“A cabal? Really?” Katherine said, and Pippa shook her head so violently that her vision blurred for an instant. “I think your impression of this has inflated its importance. Either that or our mutual awkwardness with each other’s language has garbled our explanations.”
The captain only grunted in a noncommittal fashion. But he did point to the cell phone Katherine had in her hand and tell her she could use it. And he left the room, leaving the door open.
Pippa chewed a fingernail while Katherine talked to Michael. Pippa could tell he was mad, but when she hung up, Katherine gave her a weak smile and said he was on his way.
“What we both need is a hot bath and a good sleep. We can talk tomorrow. I’ll be happy to drive you in to pick up your car when they release it to you. This is all so silly and I bet the captain sees that in the morning too.”
“I hope so. But what should I do about the cross?” Pippa had dropped her voice to a whisper.
“Tomorrow. We decide tomorrow.”
Philippe was nowhere in sight and a different gendarme walked them to the door of the gendarmerie and waited with them until Katherine saw Michael pull up. The policeman escorted them to the car and hardly glanced at them as he opened the door. Pippa noticed the watchers had all gone, and the street was empty of pig’s head and red car. She felt disoriented, as if it had been a bad dream, at least until they got under way and Michael’s angry voice penetrated her exhaustion.
Their argument was a repeat of his irritation from the morning, but amped up with the drama of the evening. Katherine was meek and apologetic, too much so, Pippa thought, given what had happened. It was hardly their fault someone had thought to put an animal’s severed head in her car, was it?
She tuned out their talk as much as possible and thought again about the note. The fact that there was a message had disturbed her so much that she hadn’t thought seriously about it. What had it said? Someone was watching her, someone who thought he knew what she was trying to do. But was that likely? She hadn’t done very much, if you thought about it. Went back to the museum a few times, watched along with at least thirty other people when the mannequin was fished out of the river. What had made someone so worried?
Michael spoke her name. “I’m sorry? I’m so wrung out I was in a bit of a daze back here.” She leaned forward from the backseat to hear him better.
“Do you want me to check out your house before you go in? If the cops aren’t going to keep an eye out, it might be smart to make sure the same bastards that messed up your car didn’t also decide to trash your house.”
“Oh, crikey, I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll do it with you, but yes, I’d appreciate it. Then I’ll let you two get home. I have good locks and I’ll make sure I’m tucked in safely.”
“Do you want to have a bite to eat with us first?” Katherine said, turning in her seat.
“No, but ta. I have some soup I can heat up. Then, like you said, a hot bath and to bed. My cats will guard the house. Really,” as Katherine laughed, “a few of them are real tigers when they think someone’s coming to the door. It’s all an act, really, but tonight, I’m grateful.”
The driveway and the house were completely dark. At Katherine’s direction, Michael drove slowly down the driveway so as not to risk hitting a cat. Katherine elected to sit in the car.
“Thank heavens I don’t keep my house and car keys on the same ring,” Pippa said as she turned the first lock, then used a second key on a deadbolt-style lock. She reached inside the door and flipped on a weak outside light and a stronger one in the hallway. Michael edged past her and peered into the living room.
“Looks okay to me. You stay here and I’ll check out the other rooms.”
Pippa thought for the first time in hours about something ordinary. She hadn’t made her bed, and she was very much afraid there were underthings drying over the bathroom shower rod. Well, he was a married man, so it wouldn’t shock him. He might decide she was a messy housekeeper, but right now that didn’t matter.
He sprinted up the stairs, calling to her that the kitchen and dining room, which was actually her writing office, looked fine.
She heard his cowboy boots clacking on the bare floors and then he was down again. “Nope. Nothing’s torn apart, the windows are all locked tight, and the only closet I saw had shelves filled with clothes. Anything else to look at?”
“No. Thank you, Michael.” As he turned toward the front door, almost tripping over the fat, gray cat that was standing close behind him, staring up suspiciously, she added, “I am truly sorry. Believe me, Katherine was an innocent bystander. Whatever this was, I’m sure it was aimed only at me.”
He looked at her and then, to her surprise, reached out and pecked her on the cheek. “I think you two have had a bad shock and didn’t deserve it. I’m glad to know this is the end of the amateur detecting. I’m sure whoever warned you off did the job. Not to say I don’t hope they catch him and string him up.” A small smile fractured the frown he had been wearing since he picked them up in Avallon, and he left, closing the front door behind him.
Pippa counted noses as she opened up a can of cat food in the kitchen. All six animals inside, prowling hungrily, expressing their indignation that she hadn’t been back before night descended. She heated her own supper out of a can and it wasn’t until she was soaking in the tub, every light in the house on, that she circled back to Michael’s comment. Had they—or at least she—really decided not to inquire further? Katherine might feel obliged to end her scouting, but Pippa still had questions. The puzzle pieces were building up in her head. She could be more careful, but should she really give up now?