Death in Saint-Chartier by Ivo Fornesa

Author:Ivo Fornesa [Ivo Fornesa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749024390
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2019-02-15T16:00:00+00:00

JEANNETTE AND CLAUDE MONATTI

Laurent was rereading his notes, sitting in the park outside the small château in Montgivray. It was a nice afternoon, and he’d always liked that town, especially the path along the stream to La Châtre.

He was killing time, because he’d decided to approach the Monattis. They hadn’t responded to the note he’d sent them by mail a few days earlier; perhaps it had gone straight to the rubbish bin, or maybe they’d simply chosen to ignore it.

After deciding on the steps he’d take that morning, he got up from the bench and headed to the cafe opposite the château. It wasn’t the first time he’d been there, and he had to admit its somewhat bohemian atmosphere had its charm. He sat down at the bar and ordered an espresso with a dash of Ricard.

The waitress had a chatty air as she brought him his coffee, and Laurent tried to strike up a conversation.

‘I’m on my way to see Madame and Monsieur Monatti. Do you know them? I’m told they live in the old mill.’

‘Are you a relative or friend of theirs?’ the waitress asked.

The fact that Laurent was neither of those things made her very talkative.

‘Oof. Well, good luck, they’re a piece of work. Insufferable radicals, those two.’

‘I can see you’re very fond of them,’ Laurent laughed. ‘Now I definitely want to meet them. What makes you say they’re radical? That strikes me as a pretty strong word for people in the music profession.’

The waitress gave him a hostile look. ‘I call them that because they’re extremely arrogant. The Monattis are the kind of people who see everything in absolutes: either you’re with them or you’re against them. And they go on all day as if traditional folk music were the only kind of music. In any case you’ll meet them soon enough; they’re not especially likable. And if you think I’m wrong, stop by afterwards, and your next drink is on the house.’

‘I will, but first tell me how to get to the mill,’ insisted Laurent.

‘There are two mills here,’ the young woman explained. ‘They live in the one off the road to the right, on the path that goes behind the cemetery. It’s the last house, in a beautiful setting. They say the trail there used to be one of the paths pilgrims took on the Camino de Santiago. Head out that way until you get to a small bridge. There’s a beautiful view of the mill there. A lot of newly-weds go there to take wedding photos.’

Laurent paid and thanked her. He decided to walk out to the Monattis’ house.

The path alongside the river out to the mill was worth it, especially since there were no cars. Really, the whole landscape was worthy of the Musée d’Orsay, with terraced stone pools covered in lotuses and yellow water lilies leading up to the waterwheel. The house, with its large, stone-framed windows and various species of ivy climbing the walls, had been tastefully restored, and the surrounding garden was enlivened by all kinds of colourful bushes.

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