The Witch Who Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 8

  Felix drained his bottle and placed it with a soft thunk on the deck.

  “You used the past tense for Ben as well as Joseph.”

  “Not intentional. But something must have happened to him. No one knows where he is, do they?”

  “You don’t think he killed his brother and ran off?”

  “Never in a million years.”

  “But people say they’ve been arguing a lot over the last few months.”

  The young sailor collected up the bottles and made to stow them away in the galley. He looked back at us. “I wouldn’t place too much importance on local gossip. People will say anything, especially all the old folk around here.”

  And with that he disappeared from view and we were dismissed.

  After another five fishing boats all tied up neat and tidy and deserted, we reached the stretch of the key along which the pleasure boats docked. After an empty berth we came to the Mermaid out of Plymouth. We expected to find the crew onboard as this was not their home port.

  Felix called out, “Permission to come aboard?”

  A man of retirement age appeared at the top of the gangplank.

  In rather bad French he asked us what we wanted. When we replied in English that we wanted to ask a few questions about the happenings of the night before, he chuckled with relief.

  “By all means, always happy to speak the mother tongue.”

  He introduced us to his wife, a comely woman in her early sixties with a sleek iron gray pageboy and lively brown eyes.

  They invited us down into the saloon and gave us tea, English style, hot and with cold milk. The wife took down a biscuit tin and offered us Scottish shortbread. Oh the joy of eating comfort food from the British Isles.

  They told us they stayed in port the day before as they’d needed to replace their ship’s stores after a run up the coast from Spain.

  “We were out shopping when the boat next to us left port,” the wife said.

  “What would that have been?” I asked.

  “That gorgeous Spanish boat, the Eva. We don’t know when she came home last night because we turned in early, and she left again at the crack of dawn this morning before all the hoop-ala with the police.”

  “She’s a beautiful boat,” her husband added. “We’ve tried being friendly, hoping they’d invite us on board but they don’t even answer our feeble attempts at saying Hola!”

  “Maybe it’s the language barrier,” I suggested.

  “She’ll be back tonight. We’ve been told she never spends the night at sea. Perhaps you could catch them then or first thing tomorrow morning. Do you speak Spanish?”

  I shook my head. “Only what I remember from cowboy movies, but they must speak some French to get by.”

  “We can’t speak French either,” the wife said with a laugh. “Next thing on our list if we want to travel around the seas of Europe.”

  We thanked them for the tea and left. We had one more boat to check out and wanted to finish up before the rapidly approaching twilight of autumn turned to night. We paced the gap along the key where the Eva berthed when she was in port—over a hundred long paces.

  “Hello, there,” a voice called out from the aft deck of the Oranje out of Rotterdam. I looked up at a cheery redheaded Dutchman. “I watched you sizing up the Eva. She’s an elegant ketch. Every sailor’s dreamboat. You’re the couple who found that body this morning?”

  “That’s us,” said Felix. “May we ask you some questions?”

  “Come aboard,” he said disappearing from the stern and re-appearing at the head of the gangplank leading up to his boat.

  As we stepped off onto the deck he said, “May I offer you a schnapps, the evenings are growing colder. I’m Hans, by the way.”

  We accepted and followed Hans down into the saloon where we met his companion, a man of the same age.

  “My partner, Guido,” he said. “We’re both from Rotterdam and are on our way to the Mediterranean via the coast of Portugal and through the Straits of Gibraltar.”

  “Lovely trip,” said Felix.

  “You’ve done it?” Hans asked.

  “No, not yet, but I’ve done some sailing along the East African coast. Love it.”

  Guido handed us both a glass of schnapps and took a seat across the table from us.

  “Now, what do you want to know and why?” Hans asked.

  “We met Joseph Marin, the murder victim, a short while ago when we visited his oyster farm a little way up the coast. And his brother Ben is teaching me to scuba dive,” I said. “We’d arrived for a trip out to sea on the Princesse when we found his body this morning.”

  “But why are you asking questions? The police have already been round the docks interviewing everybody.”

  Felix took a swig of his schnapps and placed his glass carefully on the table. “My colleague, Mpenzi here, has some experience with murder investigations. Inspector Dubois gave her the nod to see if she could come up with anything to help him. She’s intuitive and highly intelligent, being a British barrister.”

  The two men looked at me and reappraised me in the light of Felix’s testimonial.

  I waited a few seconds before asking them if they had anything to tell us. Had they seen or heard anything unusual during the night?

  “We didn’t tell the police this because they didn’t ask,” Hans said, “but the only thing I can think of is that the Eva came back to port late last night. She’s a large ship compared with our boat and made ours bob about a bit when she docked. I checked the time, and it was after one in the morning.”

  “Did you hear any commotion? People running about or shouting?” Felix asked.

  “No, nothing like that. All was peaceful. I fell back to sleep almost immediately and stayed asleep until the police sirens came shrieking along the keyside this morning.”

  We thanked them both and wished them a bon voyage for the rest of their trip.

  As we hastened back up the key to our car in the chill of the gathering dusk, we discussed what we had learned, which wasn’t much. No one had seen Ben leave on the Princesse, no one had seen him return. No one had seen the Princesse dock although one captain thought he had felt the sea move beneath his boat as she docked. Most people liked Ben, and no one disliked Joseph although he wasn’t as popular as Ben.

  “What about the thefts?” I asked Felix. “Could someone have boarded the Princesse after she’d docked and after Ben had left and then robbed Joseph and killed him?”

  “It’s possible,” Felix said as he held the car door open for me, “but if so, where is Ben? Why hasn’t he come forward?”

  “It’s only ten hours since the murder was discovered. It’s possible he doesn’t know about it. We’ll have to see what develops in the next twenty-four hours. I’m sure Dubois is doing everything he can to find him.”

  Chapter 12

  Martine Courrier, our post woman, came lumbering into our kitchen the next morning in her usual bossy way.

  “So you’ve done it again, Penzi,” she said sitting down and waiting for Gwinny to pour her a coffee. “Got yourself involved in another murder.”

  Gwinny set the cup before her and said, “She couldn’t help it. She and Felix went down to the docks for a scuba diving lesson out at sea and stumbled over the captain’s dead body.”

  “I heard it was Joseph Marin?”

  I laughed. “Been gossiping away in the Post Office, have you, Martine?”

  Martine looked offended for a moment, but her characteristic good humor returned within seconds and she sipped her coffee giving me a knowing look over the top of the cup.

  “Our gossip is not malicious. It’s part of our job. We need to know what’s going on in order to deliver the mail to the right place. Often it’s only our knowledge of people’s movements that gets that done. Plus, we have a duty of care to report anyone who may be in trouble.”

  “In trouble?” asked Gwinny.

  Martine held out her cup for seconds and Gwinny topped it
up while we waited for Martine to answer her.

  “It’s like this,” Martine said. “If we notice someone hasn’t emptied their mailbox or moved their car, we call the police to investigate in case the householder has fainted or, God forbid, died without anyone knowing about it.”

  “That’s enough about death,” said Felix.

  “Death, love, it’s all in a day’s work,” Martine said. “The office was abuzz this morning about Joseph’s wife, or should I say, widow?”

  “You mean Bella Marin?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh. She’s been having an affair with André Preneur.”

  “What a full-blown affair?” asked Felix. “Penzi and I saw them kissing one night at La Rose des Vents, but had no idea whether it was serious or not.”

  André Preneur? Another oyster farmer. I filed that fact away for contemplation later.

  Martine must have noticed the face I pulled for she smiled.

  “The Marins and the Preneurs are business rivals of course. The affair complicates matters even further.”

  “But Bella would know that. Why would she choose Preneur for a lover?” I asked.

  Martine gave a Gallic shrug. “It’s not so much what she was running to as what she was running from. Rumor has it that her husband was a difficult man to live with; that he beat her up from time to time. I guess she met Preneur at business functions and they took it from there.”

  Sam came into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. He was making a habit of getting up late.

  “Any chance of a coffee? I need to wake up quickly. Emmanuelle is on her way over to have breakfast with me here.”

  Gwinny poured Sam a coffee. He blew on it and drained it down quickly, got up and checked his hair in the kitchen mirror. Satisfied he’d pass whatever standards teenagers set for themselves, he sat down again as the front door opened. Emmanuelle hadn’t had far to travel. The mayor’s house faced ours on the opposite side of the bay.

  She greeted us all and laid her cycling helmet on the kitchen counter.

  “I want to hear all about this murder,” she said pulling out the chair next to Sam’s.

  “There’s not much to say,” I said. “Felix and I found Joseph Marin dead on his boat yesterday morning. The police don’t have much to go on. We asked around at the docks yesterday afternoon but didn’t learn anything useful.”

  “I knew Monsieur Marin,” she said dragging the basket of croissants towards her and selecting the largest one.

  “How come?” asked Felix.

  “His son Oscar is the same age as me and we were in the same class at high school. I’ve been round to their house a few times.”

  She paused to break off a piece of her croissant and put it in her mouth. She savored the buttery taste, taking her time. She looked up to find everyone watching her. “What?” she asked.

  Sam snatched up her croissant and held it up in the air out of her reach.

  “Tell us about him,” he said, “if you want this back. We’re all waiting to hear what you have to say.”

  “His sons were afraid of him. Oscar has a younger brother. He’s about twelve.”

  “And?” Felix asked.

  “Oscar wants to study history at university. He’s going to Bordeaux university when the term starts in two weeks, like me. His father wouldn’t let him. Told him he has to study marine biology so he can be useful to the oyster business. I was there for lunch once and an argument broke out between them. Monsieur Marin wouldn’t listen to Oscar, just shouted him down and said he was to do what he was told.”

  Martine harrumphed. “He couldn’t do that.”

  “With all due respect, Martine, you didn’t know him,” Emmanuelle answered. “He controlled that family like a dictator… and he was cruel. Once when I was there, Paul had bruises on his arms. That’s the younger boy. I asked Oscar about them and he tried to pretend that Paul had been beaten up at school, but in the end he admitted that his father lashed out at them both when he lost his temper.”

  “That helps to explain why Bella Marin is having an affair with André Preneur,” I said.

  “That and the fact that he’s a good dancer,” said Felix.

  We all laughed at that.

  “What about the other brother?” asked Martine. “No one’s seen him.”

  “You mean Ben Marin? That reminds me,” I said getting to my feet. “I’ll phone Dubois and ask if he’s tracked him down yet.”

  I went out into the hall and made the call.

  Dubois picked up immediately.

  “Salut, Penzi. I hope you’ve recovered from your shocking experience yesterday?”

  “Yes, I have, thank you. I’m calling to find out if you’ve found Ben Marin yet.”

  “No, we haven’t. There’s no trace of him. No one’s seen him. He hasn’t booked into a hotel using his real name. He hasn’t hired a car, nor has he used his credit card. It looks as if he’s making sure we can’t find him.”

  “Maybe he’s gone off on a trip and the news about his brother hasn’t reached him yet.”

  Dubois sighed down the phone.

  “Penzi, he’s not answering his phone, not even calls from his wife.”

  “He’s a nice guy, Xavier. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. Perhaps you need to give it more time. It’s only twenty-four hours.”

  “Penzi, you hate to think ill of the people you like, but you’ve been wrong before, haven’t you?”

  I had to admit I had. “But I’ve been right, too.”

  “Not this time. The more we examine this case, the more likely it is that Ben killed his brother and then ran off. Perhaps they had an argument, and he didn’t mean to do it. Who knows at this stage? But I am working on the assumption that Ben Marin is the guilty party. We plan to search the oyster factory and the dive school premises today. And we have a nationwide police search out for him.”

  “Obviously, you have to do all you can to find him, if only to satisfy yourself that he didn’t do it. He may be somewhere with an alibi.”

  Dubois chuckled. “Anything’s possible. I must go. My group needs instructions for the search.”

  And he rang off.

  I returned to the kitchen. Everyone stopped talking and looked at me.

  “Inspector Dubois is convinced Ben Marin murdered his brother, either intentionally or in a fight, and has disappeared to avoid arrest. He doesn’t appear to be looking very hard in any other direction.”

  “Oh no,” said Felix.

  “Why are you saying that?” asked Jimbo looking from me to Felix and back again.

  “Because, young man, your sister is about to launch herself into another serious investigation because she doesn’t believe Ben capable of knifing his brother. And knife is the key word here. Don’t forget this murderer slashed Joseph’s throat and left him to bleed to death.”

  I looked at Felix in astonishment. “But you seemed all right with us asking questions yesterday down at the docks.”

  “I hoped you’d give up, boss, when we didn’t get anywhere, but I should have known better. You’re on your broomstick again, aren’t you?”

  “What?” asked Martine. “Broomstick? What are you talking about?”

  “Wrong metaphor,” said Felix in a hurry. “I meant white horse. Like a medieval knight galloping off to rescue the maiden.”

  Martine wrinkled her forehead. “You’ve completely lost me. Anyway time for me to complete my round,” she said pushing back her chair.

  Felix pulled my chair out for me. “We need to talk in the study, boss.”

  I followed him out of the kitchen, looking back at Jimbo and Gwinny. “Would you walk Jimbo down to the school bus stop please, Gwinny?”

  Gwinny nodded and Jimbo said, “Of course, right Mum?”

  Gwinny gave his arm a squeeze.

  It was good they were getting on so well together. I had grown out of my maternal possessiveness about Jimbo by now, glad that he and our real mother enjoyed each other’s company. I only hoped it wou
ld last and that she wouldn’t let him down.

  *

  I took my usual seat in my father’s old armchair behind his desk and waited for Felix to close the door and join me in the chair opposite.

  “You’re not going to lecture me on safety, are you?” I asked him.

  The semper tuens spell was supposed to protect me from supernatural danger, although it hadn’t proved long lasting recently hence the necessity to repeat it each week. Felix’s job was to protect me from mortal danger. He would treat a knife-wielding murderer as a severe mortal threat.

  I waited for his answer, dreading having to argue with him yet again about my sacred duty as a white witch to fight evil.

  He ignored the conflict between us merely saying, “If we’re to solve this case, we’d better get on with it, hadn’t we?”

  I was so pleased to skip the usual arguments that I jumped out of my chair and ran round the desk to kiss him on the cheek. He rubbed my kiss away and gave me a push back to my seat.

  “Leave off, boss. Don’t stoke a banked fire,” he said to my amazement.

  I gaped at him, but his serious expression made me sit down and put on my investigator’s face.

  “So where do we begin?” I asked him.

  “We follow the money. Remember. It’s as good a starting point as any other. We already know about the affair between Joseph’s widow and Preneur. So I’ll hack into the business’s bank account and then the personal accounts of Joseph and Ben. That should tell us something and possibly even give us a clue as to what’s happened to Ben.”

  “What shall I do while you’re busy?”

  “You can relax and listen to one of your audio books and when Jimbo comes home from school, you can spend some time with him and Gwinny, but don’t leave the house without telling me.”

  “Yessir!” I said giving him a mock salute.

  Felix grinned at me and opened up his laptop.

  *

  As Jimbo and I entered the kitchen later on that afternoon, a pickup drove up and stopped outside our house. Gwinny joined us at the kitchen window and we watched as a tall young man with curly brown hair climbed out. Broad shoulders filled out the PVC patches on his navy blue donkey jacket. He strolled across to the seawall and stood staring up at the house, sizing it up. Why? Was he a window cleaner? We could do with one.