Spirits of Gascony

Chapter Nineteen

Dead keen, as Yvon predicted, Paulette pounced at the first ring and agreed to meet at his restaurant that evening. From there, the call went south.

“What do you mean now? I’m on the beach.” He scowled at his phone as if it was to blame for the demands fired by a tinny voice, the words hard to understand against the backdrop of wind and ocean noises. “What, dinner? Impossible. It’s out of the question.”

Sometimes, I hate it when I’m right. He wasn’t the only person nursing an ego the size of a tank and, with her, he might well have met his match.

“Ask her how she can be sure you wouldn’t poison her food,” I whispered. “And tell her she can enjoy a glass of something nice, a bottle of which you will open in her presence. Like this, she can feel safe.”

“As if I would poison my dishes. Eh? Pardon, Madame Gingembre, I wasn’t talking to you. What?”

Her voice screeched from the phone.

He rolled his expressive eyes. “No, I’m not planning to kill you, not unless you give me a good reason. Yes, of course, there are witnesses to this conversation. Do you think I’m stupid?”

More tinny babble, calmer than before.

“Put like that, Madame, we don’t exactly have a reason to trust each other, no? D’accord , I’ll be alone, if it makes you happy. Huh? Well, if you annoy me, I get dangerous. Very dangerous. Let’s ignore this for the moment and act like civilized people. Can I interest you in a glass of my best Armagnac?”

She made happy noises. I guess I’d never understand the French.

The ceasefire didn’t last long. The phone squeaked another demand.

“ Dame, if you insist. Two bodyguards are the maximum, you hear? Eh? The ghost? What about him? Bah, you know where he died. In the dunes. How on earth is he supposed to enter my restaurant in town, eh? Tell me that. Mel is food tasting for Douchevin in Hossegor. My friends? Mon Dieu , I swear upon my honor, when you arrive, there won’t be any humans in sight.”

Yvon winked at us.

“He hates to lie,” Raoul whispered, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Suffers from a severe case of noble manners and morals. Doesn’t stop him from bending the truth something rotten. I’ll be invisible, which means technically I can’t be in sight.”

I stepped aside to prevent Paulette from hearing me. “Fine, the dogs aren’t human, I get it, but the same doesn’t apply to me.”

His grin split his face. “Cancel or move your Douchevin appointment, arrive after team Paulette has arrived, et voilà .”

Our ghostly friend shared the flexible approach to facts with Yvon. However, since Paulette sucked in the imagination department, their stunt might well work.

Yvon erupted into a bellow. “Told you already, Madame, now isn’t possible but nine o’clock might work.”

Screech.

His lips flatlined, and the knuckles on his hand grabbing the phone were white, but otherwise his voice was perfectly even when he spoke again. “Fine, since you insist. Seven-thirty it is.”

I shook my head and waved my hands at Yvon, who gave a tiny shake of his head.

“ A tout à l’heure , Madame,” he said and swished away the call.

“Bloody hell, Yvon, told you I’m not available since I have to be at the Doublon d’Or, remember?”

“Actually—”

“No way. I don’t care if Douchevin ditches me for standing them up yet again. Can’t blame them. No way am I leaving you alone with that viper.”

“And me,” said Raoul mildly, “and the dogs.”

Yvon tapped his nose. “It was seven-thirty tonight or tomorrow evening. We can’t wait until tomorrow. That woman was panting with excitement, and not because I invited her to my place. She’s got an ace up her sleeve, and I must know what is. Since I can’t force you to stay away—yes, I’ve heard you, more than once, no need to glower—I’d better call Bruno and explain things. I would have had to contact him, anyway. He needs to organize reinforcements. Excusez-moi. ”

He thumbed at the phone and swung away from us.

I drew a deep breath. “Okay, Raoul, give. What part of the picture am I not seeing here? The one where a chef is as thick as thieves with the test coordinator from Guide Douchevin ?”

“Benefits you, doesn’t it? Let’s say, Bruno runs Yvon’s support network and leave it at that.”

“The supporters of the Marquis d’Artagnan you mean, not of Yvon Batz, star chef.”

“ Exactement .”

“You can explain something else while we’re at it. How come Paulette of all people is aware of your continued existence?”

“Huh, quite a few people are capable of spotting phantoms. Where do you think all the ghost stories come from?”

“He mentioned the same thing. But why Paulette? She’s such a mercantile person.”

“No idea where she got her gift, but she used to work as head librarian at some hush-hush laboratory in Paris. They explore paranormal phenomena. Supernatural vision is a key skill for all employees, but since it’s rare, they suffer from recruiting challenges. Must hire what they can get, even if it means frights like Paulette. Though, from what I heard about the place, being a complete and utter asshole is another key qualification.”

“If the place is truly special, one wonders why she left. Such an exclusive outfit should be right down her street. Unless she bossed the wrong people.”

“She was held responsible for a mass stampede of ghosts fleeing the lab. Got fired with neither back payments nor references. To make it worse, it wasn’t her fault.”

“Oh?”

“My fellow specters visited the lab’s bibliothéque , pretending to be scientists in need of research material. Madame’s assistant couldn’t find it, so she had to check herself. When she returned, all the ghosts had bolted through the back wall. The library was the only place the head honchos forgot to secure. Though it wasn’t even something she could have done herself, Paulette got blamed for the exodus. She should have noticed she was dealing with spirits, not people.”

I couldn’t hide the grin. The incident, unfair as it might be, explained a lot about her issues with customer service and her control-freak behavior. It didn’t justify her viciousness, though. “Where do you get these stories from?”

Raoul rolled his eyes. “Please, I was a double agent, remember? Being dead doesn’t mean I’m not good at my job.”

Yvon joined us, having finished his call. “All is well, and Mel is relieved from tonight’s duty. What job are you talking about?”

I added Bruno from the Guide to the growing list of things I would one day have to ask Yvon about. “Raoul dished the dirt on Paulette’s past. In a way, I admire her, as much as I hate her methods. She was forced to start from scratch, and she clawed her way back to the top.”

“If you insist, my love.”

“I do.”

“Ah, but that’s the response to a very special question. One I haven’t asked yet.” For a second, Yvon’s eyes glittered with merriment.

The wretched flush crept into my cheeks. I rummaged for something constructive to say that might cover my lapsus linguae and came up with, “Messieurs, we had better get clear on who is where when and does what later. And there’s tomorrow to think about. Things like what happens if we find Mademoiselle Legrand.”

Neither man spoke. They didn’t need to.

My heart sank. The answer to my question was all too obvious. If we located the daughter, Raoul would surrender the property he had been guarding all those years.

Then he would depart forever.

A painful moment later, he shimmied across. He reached out, a misty thumb caressing my cheek. “Hey, no silly tears on my behalf, do you hear? Not yet, anyway. First, let me share some good news. Since you and Yvon have traced the daughter for me—”

“Which we haven’t, not yet,” Yvon said, louder than necessary.

“Yes, but you’re very close. I can feel it in my guts.” With a dramatic sweep, Raoul put a hand through his midriff. His face fell, and he retracted his arm. “Sorry, that was a rookie’s mistake. Anyway, you’ll find her. Which means we better be prepared to retrieve what’s rightfully hers. And, listen to this, Yvon can have his spoon. I don’t think Mademoiselle Legrand will miss the thing, and I certainly don’t want Paulette to get her hands on it.”

Raoul was trying too hard. This wasn’t remotely funny. Instead, an uneasy quiet traveled on the wind tugging at my hair.

Once the spoon was found, Yvon’s mission was also completed. Would he leave me as well when we had finally found each other?

The dogs barked. The ocean surged and hushed. In the sky, the sun’s fiery ball filled the tangy summer air with so much light it made my heart hurt.

Yvon shifted his rigid stance. “Why ‘we’?”

“We as in you, I’m afraid,” Raoul said. “I swore I would protect it with my life, which I did, the reason I can’t move it from its current location. I’ll need help.”

His words made little sense. “Wasn’t the purpose of you staying on...”

“Don’t complain, Mel, I’m not making the rules here. I have no idea who does. It’s the way it is. I guard, I can do whatever helps achieve my mission, but otherwise, my hands are tied. Well, they were when I was shot. Perhaps that’s the whole problem.”

He didn’t fool me. He was still hurting, even after all those years.

“It’s not the right job for a poor ghost like me, I’m afraid. Especially if you want the spoon before Paulette gets involved.”

“How bad is it?” Yvon asked.

“Can you dive?” Raoul said, with a mischievous grin that didn’t sit quite right.

“Piece of cake,” Yvon said. “I led the first French team of combat divers in World War Two.”

Something inside of me clenched. It would take a while until I got accustomed to my lover’s turbulent—and extended—past. Another clench followed. All this was assuming we would be granted enough time together.

“Ah,” said Raoul. “I keep forgetting you’re the enemy.”

Their banter grated on my nerves, and the surf now drumming against the bunkers added an ominous beat to the scene.

“One thing at a time,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “We haven’t got all evening. First, let’s find a way of handling Paulette. Tomorrow, we can deal with the treasure.”

“Houston, we have a plan.” Raoul squinted into the sun daubing the Western horizon with a peachy glow. “However, if we want to be at Yvon’s place in time for Madame, we need to move our backsides.”

Yvon whistled. The three dogs raced across the beach. When they had overtaken us, they slowed and trotted ahead, tails wagging.

I remained behind, my toes curled into the moist sand, trying to frame the moment in my memory. The sky glowed with pale pinks and apricots, and the water, dyed a translucent shade of turquoise, glittered and danced.

In the distance, the Pyrenees were the clearest I’d ever seen them. All the recent rain must have washed the dust from the atmosphere, just like the hungry sea had already swallowed parts of the trail marked by two pairs of feet and three sets of paws.

Raoul, however, left no tracks.

~ * ~

? F ashionably late as planned, I arrived at the back entrance to the restaurant. The lime-green Citro?n was nosed up to the minivan, its rear end blocking half of the pavement as if it owned the space.

I squeezed past the two vehicles and tried the door. Locked, but Yvon’s key took care of that. I half-expected an ominous creaking of hinges and gave the panel only the tiniest of pushes. I should have known better.

The door hushed aside as if on rollers, and I sneaked into a corridor, empty but filled with voices drifting in from the guestroom. Or rather, one voice. Clear and high, it pierced my eardrums.

“Monsieur Batz, I’m delighted to renew our acquaintance.” Paulette, oozing false charm.

A whiny voice buzzed, and the image of the squat man took shape in my mind. If he and his chum acted as her bodyguards, we stood a chance.

“Be quiet,” she snapped. “This isn’t how one conducts business.”

I tiptoed on until I spotted two doors, neither of them fully closed. Only two options, with one entrance leading to the heart of the restaurant and the other into the kitchen. The only question was which door would be which?

The kitchen was what I wanted. I was reaching for the nearest knob when a tittering laugh found its way through the crack between the jamb and the panel.

Hastily, I withdrew my hand and swung around. I sneaked the other door open. A sous-vide , a gimmick used for foil-cooking food, was a sure sign I had found the kitchen.

I slipped inside. The voices were much clearer here, so I gulped some air into my hurting lungs and listened.

“Come on, another Armagnac?” Yvon said. “It’s on the house. Specially aged in oak barrels.”

“Oh, but I mustn’t.”

The whiny voice buzzed again, sounding eager.

Her voice cut across it like a razor. “No way, told you already. You won’t drink, you’re driving me home. Where were we? Ah well, if you insist, Monsieur d’Artagnan. A small glass.”

“Fool.” Raoul’s soft tones originated from next to the walk-in freezer. “I wouldn’t waste my good booze on Madame Gingembre.”

Despite knowing he would be around, my heart banged against the inside of my ribcage not once, but twice.

“She won’t be content with the cooking sherry,” I whispered back eventually.

From below my line of vision sounded subdued panting. I let my gaze travel along the floor and through the doorway to the space behind the bar. Aramis, Athos, and Porthos lay lined up like blueish Wieners, their presence hidden by the high counter.

In the dining room, Yvon and Paulette were getting ready for combat, two sumo ringers grappling but not getting a grip.

“You’ve missed little,” Raoul said, in the same toneless whisper. “They arrived three minutes late. Apparently the minions couldn’t find a parking space. Madame was almost nuclear by the time they got here, but he calmed her with a charm offensive and had her melting into a puddle in ten seconds flat. Unfortunately, not for long. A couple of minutes before you came, she scored when she asked him if he was the Marquis d’Artagnan.”

“And?”

“He confirmed it.”

“Is that wise?”

I guess Raoul shrugged, but he displayed no shoulders to shrug with. “What else was he supposed to do? Since she has teamed up with the Sansculottes, it’s obvious she’d be privy to their intel. She’s been amazingly polite to him once the facts were on the table. Not once were abominations mentioned.”

“Don’t tell me she’ll back off because Yvon once carried a posh title.”

“Agreed. The woman wants something. Let’s hope she gets sozzled and tells us what it is soon. The whole charade is getting boring. I never liked security details.”

Soon was relative, but eventually, she came to the point. By that time, I had braved the hounds and crept to the corner of the bar counter. The animals didn’t object to my presence; their only response was to thump their tails and the nearest, Aramis it said on his collar, slimed his tongue over my hand. I patted his smelly but reassuringly solid rump.

Blocked by the legs of tables and chairs, the view wasn’t brilliant, but, with a bit of contorting, I could watch the drama. Paulette and Yvon sat close to the wine rack at the far wall, he leaning back in his chair with a bored expression on his face, she shifting around, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling.

Thrilled, are we?

The empty snifter cradled in her dainty fingers, she said, “Well, chatting with you has been a pleasure for sure, but it doesn’t help with our problem.”

“No,” he said. “More Armagnac?”

Paulette’s titter drilled into my ears, and I dug my nails into my palm. “Monsieur, one might think you are trying to make me drunk.”

“That wouldn’t be polite.”

“No, but understandable given your situation.”

“What situation would that be? Until you tell me what you have in mind, there’s nothing I can do for you. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”

“We don’t do arrangements with the likes of you,” Whiny Voice said.

I inched forward to get a better view, only to discover I had been spot-on about her bodyguards. The squat man with the whiny voice and the chap Yvon had chased into the tree shared a table close to the window. The type from the tree wore a pained expression on his face and studiously ignored his colleague.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she told Whiny Voice.

“Oho, you said you would...”

“Forget it. Since Monsieur mentioned arrangements...”

“He’s an abomination. We don’t negotiate with them. We kill them.”

“He’s immortal, you idiot. Immortals are hard to kill. I explained things to you when you made contact. For that to work, one needs more planning and a lot more knowledge on the subject than anyone has right now. As I also tried to explain, it would be a waste. Monsieur would be much better off serving science. The spoon isn’t the only thing we need. No, we must have him. There are lots of people with lots of money who don’t want to die.”

She licked her lips. Even from where I was cowering, the gleam of pure greed in her eyes was obvious.

My stomach plummeted, and my heartbeat gathered speed. Her plan constituted bad news. With her background, it wasn’t an empty threat.

Yvon must have noticed. “You mean your laboratory. In Paris.” His voice was flat.

“Now things get more interesting. Be ready to do battle,” Raoul’s voice hushed into my ear. The dogs growled under their breath.

“Not mine. They fired me.” Paulette’s voice quivered with indignation. “Because a stupid bunch of phantoms used my scientific library as a back exit. How could their escape have been my fault, huh? These idiots should have checked their wards. Bah, forget it. Doesn’t matter anymore. These ghost experiments were going nowhere.”

“What experiments?” he asked.

“I told you. Eternal life. What a moronic idea to milk ectoplasm from a bunch of people who’re already dead, thinking it could prolong life. However, you are living proof immortality exists. It’s in your genes.”

“Madame,” he said, his voice steel under silk. “There is only one tiny problem. I won’t have myself turned into a guinea pig.”

Another grating titter. “Now, now, your choice of words is rather—shall we say unfortunate? Allow yourself to consider the idea for a moment. Imagine, you can advance humanity, hmm?” Her voice was girlishly high and breathless with excitement.

Unable to sit still any longer, I balled my hands into fists and stretched. My foot knocked against the nearest chair and sent it scraping over the floor.

She swung around in her seat, and I ducked behind the counter, my heart beating into my mouth.

As if he had perceived the shift in mood, Aramis rose from the ground, a questioning expression in his brown eyes.

Raoul’s crouched silhouette shimmered behind the nearest table leg. He snapped his finger at the dog, and the poor critter’s legs collapsed underneath it. The dog slumped on the floor, looking utterly confused.

“Keep your stomach under control,” Paulette said.

“It wasn’t me,” Whiny Voice said. “Perhaps there’s someone else around?”

“No way, Monsieur d’Artagnan gave me his word. You did, didn’t you? And why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?” Yvon, the steel in his voice winning.

“What’s happening?” I whispered. “I can’t see anything from here.”

“Let me check,” Raoul whispered back. “Hah, the fat—pardon, the squat chap’s got hold of the Armagnac. The other one has moved to a separate table like he couldn’t care less. Of the two men, he seems to be more intelligent.”

“True. He hates weapons.”

“Since when do these morons carry weapons? Mon Dieu , woman, why didn’t you say anything? I need to check this.” Raoul vanished and, once more, I strained my ears to catch the conversation.

“I might have an alternative suggestion,” Paulette said, a faint tremor in her voice.

“Ah, that sounds better. Surprise me, Madame,” Yvon said.

Whiny Voice was like a bull terrier with a bone. “But we want...”

“I’ll explain later. Monsieur, here’s my proposal. You find me the treasure of Capbreton. Most of it, I don’t need for myself, but I want to be the one who has officially discovered it if you know what I mean. Then I will pass it on to Mademoiselle Legrand. Who I also will have found myself. The spoon I get to keep. If you refuse to turn yourself in, I want at least that.”

“For this to happen, we need both the treasure and the daughter,” Yvon said.

“Your problem, not mine. I’m sure your ghostly pal can help you. Now, when it comes to the Legrands, I hear you have made significant progress. Hopefully, your efforts will be crowned with success since it serves my purposes.

“It is now half-past eight.” Her voice had turned to steel, all the silly titter gone. “You have twenty-four hours during which I shall refrain from informing a contact of mine at the laboratory. Give me the treasure, all of it, and find the Legrands. If you do, all is well. If not, I’m afraid I will force you to do your duty. Which I believe is to serve science.”

From the tight ball my stomach had become, bristly like a hedgehog, spread a wave of anger so hot I found it impossible to sit still. Only Raoul’s invisible hand materializing on my shoulder stopped me from launching myself at the beast.

“But...” To give him his due, the guy with the whiny voice had guts.

“I’m not telling you again. Shut up or else.”

“Even if I agreed to your plans, Madame, what guarantee do I have you’ll keep your side of the bargain?” A glacial chill crisped Yvon’s voice.

She giggled. “My word shall suffice. Oh, I wasn’t finished yet. I want you away from my town. You will close your restaurant. Or better even, you can donate it to a good cause.”

“What cause would that be?”

“A friend of mine. I owe him a favor. I’ll ask another friend of mine—I have plenty of useful friends—to draft a contract. Don’t worry, he will be discreet. He owes me many favors. Once you have delivered the treasure, the information on the Legrand descendant, and transferred the ownership of your delightful restaurant, you can go. Only make sure not to cross my path again.” She giggled again as if floating on a bubble of buzz.

I suspected she was doing just that.

The hand on my shoulder pressed harder.

“Oh, and I want all the contents of this place including the Armagnac.” This time, Paulette laughed outright.