She disentangled herself from Rafael’s arm and Laure had no choice but to help her up the stairs, leaving Rafael standing there with her many bags scattered around him.
With a resigned sigh, he picked them up and gathered them into one spot, at the foot of the stairs where she could take them later. He had no idea how long she intended to stay. You could never tell with Laure. At least she took care of Mémé when she was here.
Sort of.
Mémé doted on her, though, and if it made the old woman happy, he was content. There was little else to cheer him at the moment. He didn’t know how Thierry had died and it could just have been a horrible coincidence. But he’d been one of the Walkers’ divers. He’d been there when they found that wretched mask and had been attacked by the eel. Marked by it.
The sense of danger closing in on him made his head ache.
Alain called by on his way back to headquarters. He was grim-faced and had that strained look in his eyes that boded nothing good.
‘They’re still here? The Walkers?’ he asked without preamble.
Rafael frowned. He didn’t like the tone, but he just nodded. He’d left them talking in the drawing room, finally sharing things they should have shared long ago, he suspected. Even Laure seemed happy to leave them to it once she had ‘popped in to say hello’. The atmosphere had been tense and he knew they needed this time. ‘What did you find?’
Alain grimaced briefly. ‘Inside. I shouldn’t be here at all. But the sooner I interview them, the better. How’s their French? Do I need a translator?’
‘I can help. I’ll make coffee,’ he said, and for once Alain looked relieved.
By the time he’d brought the coffee up from the kitchen, running the gauntlet of Nolvene, who was busy baking and had no time for interlopers in her domain, Alain had introduced himself and was already taking some notes and contact details.
‘He was our friend,’ Jason was saying as Rafael came in and looked up at the interruption. As his eyes met Rafael’s, he couldn’t miss the glistening of tears in Jason’s eyes and he looked like a child sitting there on the edge of the armchair. A world away from the happy-go-lucky adventurer he usually projected. Ari was staring fixedly out of the window. Everything about her was a taut wire. She didn’t look around at him.
He didn’t blame her. This had to be dredging up all her grief regarding Simon. That was unavoidable. And in between their vision of Ankou the other night and another death by drowning in the same place…well…it had to hurt.
He couldn’t tell her how many people had died in that cove, or whose bodies had been washed ashore there. It wouldn’t help. Simon wasn’t even the first Poullain.
He wondered if she recalled the names on the memorial there. Probably not. People didn’t tend to read them without a reason. They had been a small group of no great importance, caught by the Gestapo, executed where they knelt in the surf. One after the other, so the story went, but none of them had talked. Fabien du Lac had been the last.
Many similar things had happened up and down the coast.
The urge to comfort her was unexpectedly strong. And wholly inappropriate. He knew that. But that didn’t make it lessen.
He set down the coffees on the table. Ari ignored them.
‘Was Monsieur Jacquet involved in a fight recently?’ Alain was asking.
‘Thierry? No. He was the most laid-back man you’d meet. Fighting wasn’t in his nature.’ Jason took the coffee Rafael offered and held it close, warming his hands on it rather than drinking.
Alain nodded slowly and made more notes. ‘And the injury to his arm?’
‘An eel attacked him while we were diving the other day.’
Alain frowned and looked up at Rafael for confirmation of the word. ‘An eel?’
‘A conger eel, I believe. Vicious things.’ He didn’t mention the mask. It didn’t seem relevant and he wasn’t sure if anyone wanted it involved in a police investigation. Jason had made no mention of it. ‘The Walkers are working for my great-aunt and the Foundation. Marine archaeology. They locate sites which may harbour historic artefacts and dive for evidence of them. Before the university and the state are involved, of course.’
More notes followed, the whisper of his pen on the page, his brow furrowing in thought… Alain gave nothing away and Rafael wondered what he was thinking. All the same, it was fascinating to watch his process.
Eventually, Alain leaned back in the chair and closed his notebook. ‘There are some injuries we need to investigate further and the coroner will have a full report for me soon. It would appear to be an accidental drowning.’ He glanced at Jason. ‘My condolences.’
Jason pursed his lips and looked away.
Alain drank the rest of his coffee quickly, the way someone did when he didn’t want to linger somewhere but needed the caffeine nonetheless.
‘But he was a strong swimmer,’ Ari cut in. ‘He knew the area. He—’ Her voice choked a little and she went quiet.
‘I understand that,mademoiselle. The sea here is treacherous and the cliffs perilous. Rip tides appear as if from nowhere like themari-morgenof legend. We will do everything we can to find out what happened. But sometimes accidents just happen. Even to the most experienced. A late night, some alcohol, even just a little, and a fall while walking home along the cliffs, or an ill-advised visit to the shore…we’ve seen it many times.’
