Read Race to World's End (Rowan and Ella Book 3) Online
Authors: Susan Kiernan-Lewis
Race to World's End (Rowan and Ella Book 3) (36 page)
Maggie watched Desiree’s
reaction to Dee-Dee’s words. The look that Desiree gave Dee-Dee was one of
undiluted loathing.
“That can’t be,” Annie said
to the group. “I know Olivier. He would never hurt Lanie.”
“Love makes you do strange
things,” Dee-Dee said.
“What would you know of
love?” Desiree sneered. “From what you see on television soap operas?”
“You French think you own the
whole love and passion thing,” Dee-Dee said, turning in her seat to face the
Frenchwoman.
“I imagine anyone might own
it more than a woman who has never known a man’s touch,” Desiree said.
Whoa!
Score one for Team France
,
Maggie thought as Dee-Dee’s face blushed deep red.
“All right, ladies,” Randall
said. “We have company. Let’s try not to bicker, shall we?” He turned to Annie.
“And yes, losing Olivier will put a considerable crimp in our taping abilities
for the remainder of the tour but I feel sure we—”
Maggie spoke up. “You’re
continuing the tour?” She glanced at her brother and Haley. “I was told you
were canceling it.”
“Of course we’re continuing
the tour,” he said. “I mean, it’s horrifying and all that but I’ve got a
production schedule back home and we need to get this co-anchor question
decided.”
“When are you leaving?”
Maggie asked.
Randall shrugged. “The police
have Olivier as their man and they see no reason why the rest of us need to
remain in Nice. We leave for Cannes early tomorrow morning. Desiree will be
presenting on our first stop on the Côte d’Azur. I’m not counting Nice as part
of the test because of Lanie dying and all.”
Maggie saw Annie swallow
hard.
God! These people were insensitive.
She looked at her brother but he was studiously working not to look at her.
“I understand Ben and Haley
Newberry are dropping out of the tour?” Maggie said.
Ben snapped his head up when
she spoke.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Randall
said. “They have other business in France. They were never scheduled for the coastal
part of the tour in any case. Just Provence to Nice.”
Oh,
really?
Her brother
returned her steady gaze. Caught in a bold-faced lie in front of half a dozen
people and he stared at her as coolly as if it had never happened.
“I’m sorry,” Randall said, looking
at Maggie now. “I didn’t catch your name. You are a relative of Lanie’s?”
“A friend of the family,”
Maggie said. She couldn’t resist glancing back at Ben when she said that and
was rewarded with a look of disgust as he rolled his eyes and directed his
attention back to his coffee.
“Mademoiselle Morrison
drowned to death in her bath,” Inspector Massar said, intoning the words as if
passing sentence. He spoke no English, and as Maggie sat in front of him, Annie
at her side, she couldn’t help but be amazed that she had come so far in her
linguistic abilities that she was actually serving as translator.
But
how the hell was she going to translate that?
“Then why do you believe she
was murdered?”
“The body suffered blunt
force trauma to the upper cranium,” he said, pointing to his own head. Annie
followed his hand motions with her eyes. Maggie was grateful she couldn’t
understand what he was saying.
“Do you have the murder
weapon?”
Massar fidgeted in his chair.
“Not at this time.”
“Then are you sure it’s murder? Isn’t it
possible she could have slipped and fallen?”
“There was a word written on
her forehead, Madame,” Massar said abruptly.
A burning sensation formed in
the pit of Maggie’s stomach. Any hope she’d held out that it might truly be an
accident evaporated immediately.
“May I ask what word?”
His eyes flickered to Annie
and Maggie instinctively clenched her stomach muscles. The word must be a bad
one. And one that Annie might recognize.
“Slut,” he said. “The killer
wrote the word
slut
across the body’s
forehead.”
Annie reacted by turning to
Maggie and gripping her arm. “What’s he saying? Why is saying that word?”
“He…he’s trying to explain to
me why he believes Lanie was murdered and didn’t accidentally drown in her
bath.” Maggie felt Annie’s nails dig into her arm and she forced herself not to
pull away.
“Why is he saying that word?”
“It’s a little confusing,”
Maggie lied. “I’m not sure what word he’s really saying. I’m sorry. My French
is still a little spotty.”
She heard the air come out of
Annie in a long sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath.
Maggie turned back to Massar.
“That’s an English word.”
“
C’est ça
.”
“Well, why do you have a
Frenchman in custody? If it was him, wouldn’t he have written
salope
or
prostituée
?”
“
Slut
is shorter,” the detective said with a shrug.
“Do you have any other
evidence that makes you believe it was Olivier Tatois?”
“We can prove that the key
used to gain access to Mademoiselle Morrison’s room that night was used by
Monsieur Tatois.”
“Really?”
“It was found in his
possession.”
“But that wouldn’t be
unusual, right? Since they were sleeping together?”
“That is true.”
Maggie couldn’t believe how
impervious the man was to her questions. He not only didn’t seem to hold back
information from her, he didn’t act as if he cared one way or the other.
Maybe
he was close to retirement or something.
“May I ask you if the body…if
Mademoiselle Morrison was wearing face makeup?”
Massar frowned. “Of course
not. She was in the process of taking a bath.”
“If she wasn’t wearing makeup,”
Maggie said, “why do you think she was expecting her lover?”
His eyes darted away, as if
considering this. He was too French not to see the logic in it. In the end,
though, it didn’t matter. He shrugged—that maddening, classic Gallic
gesture that ended all conversations without satisfaction or resolution.
Laurent did it all the time.
“Monsieur Tatois has no alibi
for the time in question,” he said.
Well,
jeez, neither do you and somehow you’re not in a holding cell facing a charge
of murder
.
“Will that be all, Madame
Dernier?” Massar said, standing, effectively ensuring that it was, in fact,
all. Maggie stood and so did Annie.
“When will you release the
body to her mother?”
“The autopsy will be finished
tomorrow. Madame Morrison may make arrangements to have the body shipped to the
United States by Friday.” He held out a hand for Annie to shake and then offered
his hand to Maggie before escorting them out of his office and down the long
hall to the lobby of the police department.
As the two stood on the
street corner, Maggie put her arm around Annie.
“Come on, Annie,” she said.
“Let’s find a quiet place to talk.” She glanced down the long pedestrian
shopping street studded with multi-colored and striped umbrellas over café
tables and was about to move toward the closest one when she noticed a familiar
form sitting at one of the tables.
Desiree sat facing her,
smoking feverishly, focused on her companion, to whom she was gesticulating
wildly. The Frenchwoman’s face was contorted into a heavy sneer, the force of
which nearly made Maggie gasp for how instantly it transformed Desiree’s
features into something ugly and raw.
Whatever
she was saying
,
Annie didn’t need to
be anywhere near it
, Maggie decided.
As she tugged Annie away in
the opposite direction, Maggie heard the same cawing bray of laughter coming
from Desiree’s companion that Maggie remembered hearing at breakfast when Bob
Randall had shown his amusement over some trivial thing.
Four
It
looked more like the opening act for a circus than one of the world’s most
famous beachfronts.
Maggie watched a long line of
joggers, cyclists, roller skaters and even a few acrobats walk, ride and roll
two deep past the café table where she sat with Annie. Add the odd Segway and
baby stroller, she marveled, and you’d have a parade of the strangest
collection of narcissists and showoffs to rival Venice Beach.
Doesn’t
anybody in Nice own a computer?
Maggie had seen tourists with their noses stuck in tablets and smartphones in
as gorgeous and remote hideaways as Mürren, Switzerland, and yet here in the
middle of civilization it seemed the
Niçois
wanted nothing more than to prance along the boardwalk, to see and be seen.
Strike
that
, Maggie thought
wryly as a mime danced by, his hands climbing nonexistent walls as he moved.
Nobody cares that much about seeing. They
all just want to be seen
.
The waiter brought the carafe
of rosé Maggie ordered, but Annie put her hand over her wineglass and asked for
bottled water.
“I’m afraid I haven’t been
entirely honest with you, Maggie,” she said.
Maggie frowned, dragging her
attention away from the circus of people and vehicles along the Promenade des
Anglais. “What do you mean?”
Annie sighed. “Lanie and I
were estranged. Had been for years.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m afraid the reason for it
involves you.”
“Me?”
“Even now, I’m ashamed to say
it. I’ve tried for years to redeem myself to Lanie. But she wouldn’t listen.”
“I don’t understand. What
happened? I remember you were the coolest mom I knew. You understood me better
than my own mother did. I can’t tell you how fondly I remember our talks around
your kitchen table.”
“That was right after the
divorce. I wasn’t doing very well at all.”
“I thought you were awesome.”
“Well, I wasn’t. In fact,
what I was mostly was drunk. Lanie and I were fighting daily. She blamed me for
her father leaving. She was probably right. Once…no, more than once, I told her
I wished her father had gotten custody of her but I needed the child support
money so that’s why she was with me.”
“Annie, don’t do this to
yourself. It was a bad time for you. I’m sure Lanie understood that when she
became an adult.”
“I told her I wished
you
were my daughter.”
“Oh.”
“Not just once. Several
times. Whenever you came over, you and I would talk—just as I imagined in
my fantasies that Lanie and I might some day.”
“I…I had no idea.”
“No, you wouldn’t. The more I
drank, the more I began to think that
you
were the daughter I really deserved, and Lanie was just part of my punishment. I
was messed up. Eventually I got help and kicked the booze, but by then the
damage to Lanie was done.”
“She must have hated me.”
“No, she hated herself for
not
being
you. For failing me. For
failing her father.”
“I can’t believe this. My
friendship with Lanie did end abruptly, and I never knew why.”
“Well, now you do. You
probably also never knew how important you were to me during that time, did
you?”
Maggie shook her head,
stunned at Annie’s confession.
“You are the last person to
owe me anything,” Annie said. “I ruined my relationship with my only child, and
her friendship with you—a friendship she could have really used during
that time.”
“It was a terrible time for
both of you,” Maggie said numbly.
“I need you to find the
person who did this to Lanie,” Annie said. “I can’t believe I’m asking but I
have to know and I need
you
to be the
one to do it. I used you to hurt Lanie and I never fixed that in her lifetime.”
Annie grabbed a tissue and
held it to her face, her eyes squeezed shut until the moment of intense grief
passed.
“Can you see why I need you
to step in now and set this right? It’s not even your mess to clean up. And
it’s too late for me and Lanie. I know that. But she’s been gone three whole
days and I still haven’t reached for a drink. There may be some hope for me to
survive this, but if there is…I’m begging you, Maggie, if you ever cared for
Lanie—or for me—find out who did this to her. Help me finally do
right by her.”
Janet rapped sharply on the
hotel room door. It was late afternoon; a good time to catch people in, as it
was a good time to take a nap and escape the heat of the day. Although she was
sure
some people
weren’t bothering
with sleep.
The door opened a crack and
Janet felt a tightness in her jaw. Did he think she would try to force her way
in?
“I need a minute of your
time,” she said tersely. “If you’re alone, that is.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m
not,” Randall said, his eyes droopy and veined with red. “What do you want?”
“I want,” Janet hissed,
trying to keep her voice low, “to remind you that Jim and I are not the only
ones to be hurt by loose lips.”
“Jesus, Janet,” Randall said,
“spit it out before I shut the door.”
“You told Lanie about me and
Jim.”
She dared him to deny it. She
literally quivered with anticipation. A part of her wanted him to try.
“I didn’t, as it happens, but
so what? Nobody cares but you.”
“Oh, believe me, Bob, you’re
wrong about that. Jim cares a great deal.”
“Well, he should have thought
of that then shouldn’t he?” Randall began to push the door shut and she
surprised herself by stepping a foot into the room and wedging it against the
door.
“I wish the rest of the world
knew you the way I do,” she said in a loud whisper. “I wish your
little friend
knew what you were capable
of.”
“Funny, Janet, I was going to
say the same thing about you.”
She saw by the way his eyes
went suddenly blank that he didn’t care who he hurt. Especially her. For a
moment, the stark look startled her because she hadn’t expected that kind of
honesty from him. She pulled her foot back just in time as he slammed the door
in her face. She stood there for a moment, hearing her own breath, the sound of
the door echoing softly in her head, until she realized one of her fingernails
had been too close to the door jamb.
A thread of blood traced down
her finger to her wrist.
Maggie walked Annie to their
hotel room and closed the drapes while Annie took a sleeping pill and a bottle
of water to bed. It occurred to Maggie as she slipped out of the room that
Annie was in prime position to swap one addiction for another if she wasn’t
careful. Maggie rode down in the elevator and found a large wing chair in the
lobby with a view of the Mediterranean. She dialed home and closed her eyes,
willing herself to sound calm and nonchalant when he answered.
“
Allo
,” Laurent said. “Are you on your way,
chérie
?”
“No, I’m
not
on my way, Laurent,” she said, already feeling defensive and
hoping she didn’t sound it. “This is a very tense business. A woman has lost
her only child. I’m doing what I can to smooth things over and take some of the
horror out of it for her, but it’s not an easy or fast process.”
“When are you coming home?”
“Would you please listen to
me? Lanie’s mom is really upset and I’m helping her sort out all the
bureaucratic red tape in getting Lanie’s body shipped home. I did tell you
they’re calling it a suspicious death, right?”
“You are not needed for
that.”
“I’m needed to be with
her
, Laurent. She has no one.”
“Why have I not heard of this
person before now if she is so important to you?”
“That is a very interesting story
and I’m going to tell you as soon as I get home.”
“I have time now.”
“Well, okay. Let’s see…I
guess it’s not so much that she was important to me as the other way around.
Without knowing it, I was used as a sort of wedge between her and Lanie when…look,
it doesn’t matter, Laurent. Why can’t you take my word for the fact that she
needs me?”
“
Incroyable
! Your
child
needs you.”
“Jemmy has
you
—he’s probably sitting on your
lap right this minute—and I’m only talking about another twenty-four
hours. Annie has no one.”
“If you tell me you have
agreed to investigate this woman’s death, I am putting Jem in his car seat and
driving to Nice tonight to bring you home.”
“Jeez, Laurent, way to
overreact. Did I say I was investigating it? Did I even hint at that? The
police have someone in custody that they are very happy with and I have no
reason to doubt their choice.”
“So this is just about
helping your friend’s mother navigate the red tape?”
“Yes, that is it. Almost
completely.”
“Almost?”
“Completely.”
There was a pause.
“Twenty-four hours?”
“I promise. Put the baby on
the phone; I’ll promise him, too.”
“He isn’t old enough to know
your ways yet.”
“Laurent Dernier, you take
that back.”
He made a sound of
disgust.
“Oh, I meant to mention that
my brother and Haley are on their way. He said he’d call you when he’s an hour
out from Arles. Okay?”
Laurent grunted, which Maggie
decided to take as an affirmative.
“Meanwhile, can you tell me
what cute thing Jemmy’s done since I’ve been gone?”
“Excuse me,” Maggie said to
him in French. “I’m in Room 205.”
The man didn’t respond.
So
it’s like that, is it?
It had been a long time since Maggie had bumped up against an imperious or
outright rude service person in France. Even in Paris, most of them nowadays
seemed to know on which side their
beignet
was buttered. And the south of France especially was usually a little more
accommodating to tourists and foreigners.
“Mademoiselle Morrison died
in your hotel two days ago,” Maggie said bluntly. If she expected the man to
blanch or soften, she was disappointed. He continued to wait for her to get to
the point. “A glass of wine was found in her room. Did she order it through
room service that night?”
The man smiled faintly, surprising
Maggie. It was the look from a man wondering how long before someone asked him
the million-dollar question.
“
Oui
,” he said.
“And did she order just a
glass or did she order a bottle?”
“A bottle,” he said. “A Côtes
du Rhône.”
“No bottle was found in her
room.”
He shrugged. “The valet did
not wait for her to drink the whole bottle.”
“So is that your smart-ass
way of telling me he delivered the bottle and left it with her?”
“As you wish, Madame.”
“You’ve been a peach,” Maggie
said, turning away abruptly. “Thanks.”
So Lanie had been bashed in
the head with her own wine bottle. Maggie took the elevator to the second
floor, her mind racing. That meant whoever had interrupted Lanie in her bath
had probably not come there intending to kill her but somehow things escalated and
the killer used whatever weapon he could find.
In this case, a bottle of
killer Côtes du Rhône.
Where was the bottle? Surely
the cops had gone through all the rubbish bins and garbage cans around the
hotel. Would they think to look at a wine bottle as the weapon? Maggie sighed.
There must be a hundred bottles a day tossed in the hotel garbage, not even counting
the ones the guests brought in themselves.
As Maggie turned the corner
from the elevator, she slowed and then stopped. She could easily see the room
she shared with Annie at the end of the hall. And she could also see a woman
kneeling in front of the keyhole.
At first she thought the
person was attempting to spring the lock on the door, but as she stood there
she saw the woman was trying to peer through the ancient keyhole into the room.
Maggie took several quiet steps on the balls of her feet until she was close by
and then cleared her throat.
