Night Train to Paris Fliss Chester (e novels to read online .TXT) đ
- Author: Fliss Chester
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âTell me, though, what were you doing in my hotel reception last night? Looking like the Kraken?â His eyes twinkled.
âHonestly, James, I wasnât that bad! And anyway, why werenât you at The Ritz like you said you would be?â
âMaĂźtre-dâ lost our booking. Simone was terribly disappointed, but Iâve got us a table there next week.â
âIroned out your worries about her then? Decided not to be a⊠a âspoonâ, was it?â Fen wondered if the thought of Lady Arabella had been behind Jamesâs reticence with his new girlfriend the other night, and not so much Simoneâs pushy behaviour.
âStill lion-taming, but she says someone like her would be good for me. Anyway, stop trying to change the subject, Fen,â he cocked his head on one side, and Fen was pleased to see him back to a more playful version of himself.
âI know, I do owe you an explanation. And Iâm sorry I interrupted your little tĂȘte-Ă -tĂȘte. But, you see, the thing is, I was there because I was following Henri Renaud.â
âI see,â James sat forward, his elbows on his knees and his fingers making a steeple in front of him. âBut what were you doing following Monsieur Renaud in the first place.â
âIt was terribly badly behaved of me, and I had to grovel to poor Magda this morning, but you see I caught sight of him on my way over to visit her last night, and I saw he was carrying a package that looked very much like a painting wrapped up in brown paper and tied with string.â
âHmm, highly suspicious for an art dealer.â
âSarcasm is the lowest form of wit, James.â Fen tutted and sat back in the chair. âIt was long after gallery opening hours. Perhaps thatâs why I thought it so odd.â
âAnd did Magda forgive you?â James asked, more seriously now.
âYes, the darling, she did. And she told me something very interesting. Joseph was here, in this apartment, just after Rose had died. He found her body before we did.â
âWhat?â James looked startled and shifted in his chair.
âHe let himself in, he was due an appointment anyway and you know she never locked the door. He said Tipper barked like billy-o, but he couldnât bring himself to call the police.â
âWhy on earth not? If he had, it would have spared you theââ
Fen raised a hand to shush him. âDonât worry about me. And you have to understand, the authorities havenât exactly been just and fair to Joseph and his family these last few years. And before you start pondering, no, he wouldnât have killed her. He had no motive and was rather shaken up, by all accounts.â
âAgreed,â James rubbed his chin. âAnd it explains Tsarina, and the countess, hearing Tipper bark.â
âYes, but it doesnât explain why Tipper didnât bark.â
âI thought we just agreed that he did?â
âAt Joseph, yesâŠâ They both looked at the little dog who was curled up in a ball, snoring gently on the chaise longue. Fen thought for a moment and then shook her head, â⊠But not at the murderer.â
Forty
Fen and James sat in silence for a few more moments, both watching Tipperâs chest rise and fall, dreaming small doggy dreams.
âShe couldnât have killed herself, could she?â James volunteered, acting out stabbing himself in the neck.
âI donât think so. She had so much to live for â a mission. And anyway, she couldnât have then stolen her own jewels and paintings? Oh, speaking of which, James, youâll never guess what I saw on the way back from Magdaâs!â
James raised his eyebrows and Fen carried on.
âIn one of those shabby street kiosksâŠâ she pointed to the empty patch of the wall where the Delance had once hung. âRoseâs favourite painting.â
âReally?â James sat forward, interested.
âReally. And the dealer wanted fifteen hundred francs for it! I was spitting feathers.â
âDid you ask him where he got it from?â
Jamesâs question embarrassed Fen and she blushed. âNo, I mean, I asked if it was by Delance and he gave me some spiel about not caring about names, but then I, no⊠well, I was just a bit too angry to really think straight.â
âFen, donât worry. We can go back and ask him. No oneâs expecting you to be a super sleuth. But still, itâs another three down for you perhaps?â
Just as James had leaned over and briefly touched Fenâs knee to reassure her, the peace in the apartment was shattered by a clattering sound at the front door. Moments later, Simone appeared in the studio in complete disarray, her beautiful silk skirt torn and ripped, her hands scratched and bloodied as she clasped her blouse to her, as there were no buttons in place any more to wear it properly.
James drew his hand back from Fen and pushed himself up from the old saggy armchair. He was by Simoneâs side in an instant and helped her back to the chaise longue. Fen too had jumped out of her seat and moved out of the way for the pair of them to get through. Tipper, who hadnât been fazed when Simone had first appeared, was now yapping in excitement, picking up on the atmosphere in the room.
âDear God,â James released his arm from Simone as she sat down on the chaise. âAre you all right? What happened to you?â
âI was attacked⊠I was mobbed⊠byââ
âBy who? Who did this?â
Jamesâs interruption didnât stop Simone from repeating over and over, âI was attackedâŠâ
Fen found a shawl on the back of the armchair and handed it to the girl. âHere, Simone, take this.â The younger woman was still in a trance-like state of shock. âJames, here, you put it around her so the poor thing can let go of her blouse. And Iâll go and make tea.â
âLots of sugar,â James added.
âYes, of course. And a shot of brandy, I think.â
By the time the kettle started to whistle, Fen noticed that Simone had progressed from shocked mumblings to full-on tears. She couldnât begrudge her the waterworks, it sounded and looked like sheâd had a
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