Murder in a French Village: A completely unputdownable cozy murder mystery novel (A Flora Steele Mystery Book 7) by Merryn Allingham

Murder in a French Village: A completely unputdownable cozy murder mystery novel (A Flora Steele Mystery Book 7) by Merryn Allingham

Author:Merryn Allingham [Allingham, Merryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781837907526
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2023-10-29T16:00:00+00:00


19

That evening after dinner, they took a glass of wine onto the terrace at the rear of the hotel and found a secluded table. At last there was time to talk through the day’s events and what, if any, progress they’d made.

Wrapped in the large shawl she’d packed at the last moment, Flora hugged it closer. Without the sun, a slight September chill had crept into the air.

‘I’m really disappointed,’ she said, her glass now half-empty. ‘Quite despondent, in fact. When we first arrived, I thought we’d knock this mystery on its head within days. Allegra had to be our mastermind, it was obvious. When Dufour popped out of the woodwork – he keeps turning up at the most suspicious moments – it wasn’t so obvious after all. Then, yesterday, we had Alain Frossard joining the gang and today it’s Isabella who is suddenly back on the scene. Too many people. Too confusing.’

Jack took a long drink, watching the horizon’s glow mutate into streaks of pink and mauve and settle finally to a luminescent grey. ‘I guess we have one firm lead. We need to hang on to that.’

Flora huddled further into the shawl. ‘I’m sure we do. But what is it?’

‘The car, what else? The vehicle that drove into Ruby King. It has to be somewhere in Provence and I reckon it’s not a million miles away. In Crestet or Sablet or—’

‘Or half a dozen other villages whose names Massimo can’t remember.’

‘At least a finite number to search.’

‘You honestly mean to drive around half of Provence looking for Frossard’s house,’ she said testily.

‘Not his house, his garage. And it will be much less than half of Provence.’

Flora’s shoulders gave an irritated jig. ‘What if you do miraculously find his garage? Is it likely to contain what, after all, is a murder weapon? Or will he have been a clever chap and moved the vehicle well out of sight? And if, by some stroke of genius, the car is there, what’s the betting that by now Frossard will have repaired any giveaway damage – as he has with the count’s?’

‘You are despondent!’

‘I don’t mean to be a grouch, Jack, but I hate the feeling that we’re being made fools of. And, while we’re being laughed at, the threats are becoming more serious. A lot more serious. Did you see the size of that boulder aimed at Sybil? If you hadn’t been so quick…’

‘I’m not minimising the danger,’ he said gravely, ‘or puffing off our chances of discovering who’s behind this bedlam. But finding the car that killed Ruby will lead us to the driver who, in turn, will lead us – if my guess is right – to the mastermind, as you call him.’

‘Or her,’ she said quickly.

‘Or her.’ He smiled. ‘Look, it’s been a difficult few days for you. Why don’t you take tomorrow off and leave me to hunt alone?’

‘I should be with you. Remember, we said we’d only work as a team.’

‘I know we did, but tomorrow will be wearisome.



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