The Secret of Aglaia's Château: A French Cozy Mystery with a Dachshund Twist (Mysteries at Aglaia’s Château Book 1) by Ena Fitzbel

Author:Ena Fitzbel [Fitzbel, Ena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cozy Croissant Press
Published: 2025-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

I must admit that having Alban around is reassuring, especially after the last twenty-four hours I’ve endured. However, I cannot accept his offer to sleep here. I have told him so repeatedly, but he wouldn’t listen. What a stubborn man! He had his aunt come to Les Ibis while he went to fetch his belongings from his place.

I dare not go back to bed, although I’m falling asleep. So, I keep Sylvie Landrec company in the kitchen—or perhaps it’s the other way around. I must have dozed off at times because when the doorbell rings an hour later, I sit up with a stiff neck.

As Sylvie runs to the door, I emerge from my grogginess. It’s already seven o’clock. A very appetizing breakfast has materialized on the table, suggesting that the hardware store owner is quite the chef.

A jumble of barking, joyful exclamations, and conversations reaches me from the hallway. Then my dog, Corentin, his uncle, and his grandmother burst into the kitchen. Dripping wet, Alban carries a large bag in each hand.

"Do you need that much stuff?" I ask, astonished.

"Cot, sleeping bag, toiletries… You need what you need," he replies, giving me a mischievous wink.

He sheds his raincoat, sits opposite me, and starts on the cheese omelette his aunt has served him. I’m about to devour a stack of raspberry jam pancakes when the slim, statuesque figure of Angadrem Le Roy pops into my mind. Oh dear, this is not the time to gain weight! I opt for a sugar-free coffee instead.

"Are you hungry, Corentin?" his grandmother asks.

The boy has remained in the doorway, seeming hesitant. His eyes flick between the well-laden table and my dog.

"What do you think, Rimbaud? Do we eat or go to work?"

"Woof!"

I’m not sure what that bark means, but it does the trick. Corentin joins us and devours a chocolate pancake with gusto. As he and his uncle enjoy their meal, Sylvie slips away.

"Typical Breton weather!" Alban announces once breakfast is over. "It’ll be like this all day. What do you want to do with our Sunday, Corentin? Do you want to take Rimbaud for a walk on the beach?"

I glance through the patio door. I wouldn’t have the heart to brave such foul weather myself. Dark clouds darken the sky, and it’s pouring rain on my stunted garden. Gardening is definitely not on the agenda today.

"No," retorts his nephew, who has already stood up. "Rimbaud and I have a puzzle to solve."

"A puzzle?"

"Yes, Jade knows about it. She’ll explain."

And there it is, the ball is in my court. Deal with that, old girl!

Raising an eyebrow, Alban gives me an inquiring look. The kindness he showed last night convinces me to reveal everything. The receipt in my mailbox, the package at the post office, the bronze box decorated with Egyptian motifs. As I recount everything to Alban, Corentin interrupts me to show the object to his uncle. He had kept it with him.

"I found out that the hieroglyphs mean Hunefer" he declares proudly. "Online, they say he was a scribe who lived during the time of Pharaoh Seti I, around 1250 BC.

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