Ellen Crosby - The Sauvignon Secret

“I would never do that and I promise not to be gone long,” I yelled back. “See you soon.”

I got in the Mini and earned another disgusted look as I drove by. As long as Dominique didn’t call Jasmine and warn her I was planning to show up, I could still get Hope away from her before she realized I knew anything. Then I’d go to Bobby Noland.

But Jasmine hadn’t dropped Hope off at the house, because Eli was nowhere to be found. I shouted his name up the spiral staircase and listened to my voice echo back.

“Lucie?” Pépé called. It sounded like he was in his bedroom. “ Qu’est-ce que tu fais ? What’s going on?”

He came to the railing in the upstairs hall and looked down.

“What happened?” he asked. “You look dreadful.”

If I was going to tell anyone, my grandfather was the only one I trusted right now. I waited until he came down the stairs.

“Jasmine Nouri is Maggie Hilliard’s niece,” I said. “She tracked down Stephen Falcone’s sister, Elinor.”

He went pale. “How do you know that?”

“Because I just visited Elinor Falcone in Washington and she told me. Jasmine was on her way to Paris to look up Vivian Kalman when she stopped in Washington. Maggie left a diary and Jasmine found it.”

“ Mon Dieu . What do you think she’s doing here?”

“In the last six months since Jasmine visited Elinor,” I said, “everyone in the Mandrake Society has died. Except Charles. And Jasmine is over at the Thiessmans’ right now. With Hope.”

“Let’s go,” he said. “I’ll call Juliette.”

“No. Don’t do that. First we have to get Hope out of there. There’ll still be time.”

“How can you be so sure?” he said.

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m just praying there is. Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait a minute.”

My grandfather crossed the foyer to the library, which had once been Leland’s office. He reached up and slid his hand along the top of the doorjamb. My heart started pounding in my chest. The key to my father’s gun cabinet was up there; I’d never moved it from where he always kept it.

“My God, Pépé, you can’t bring a gun. What are you thinking?”

Despite my father’s legendary prowess as a hunter and a collection that could outfit a small militia, I avoided guns at all costs. Leland taught me to shoot when I was a teenager—he insisted since he kept weapons in the house—but I was way out of practice.

Pépé found the key and turned to face me. “If what you say is true, this young woman is capable of murder. I don’t want to show up unprepared.”

“Look, we’re going to get Hope out of there and then call Bobby, okay? Leave the gun here. Please.”

But he was already unlocking the door to the big glass cabinet and sliding open the drawer where Leland kept his small arms. I heard the click of a clip being loaded and then Pépé showed up in the doorway. My grandfather was a crack shot, just like Leland.

“I took the forty-five. Don’t worry. I probably won’t even need to draw it, but I like to be safe.”

“You don’t have a permit to carry concealed in Virginia.”

“I have my permis de chasser from last year’s chasse ,” he said. “It’s in my wallet.”

“Your hunting permit is only good for last year’s chasse . In France,” I said. “And you didn’t hunt with a forty-five, so it’s not even for the right gun.”

“Obviously,” he said. “But a permit will be the least of my problems if I end up using this, n’est-ce pas ? Let’s go.”

On the drive over to Mon Abri, my grandfather grilled me about my visit with Elinor.

“Jasmine had a photograph of Stephen because it was in Maggie’s diary?” he asked. “Do you think Vivian gave her the other picture of Maggie and Charles?”

“I guess so. Even Charles figured out that Vivian, who was the group photographer, took that shot. So it stands to reason Vivian still had it, don’t you think?”

He nodded, looking thoughtful. “What makes you think Jasmine killed Vivian?”

“I’m not sure she did. But I think it’s too much of a coincidence that all of them died within months of each other—beginning from the time Jasmine went to Paris. Who else could have done it?”

“Slow down or you’ll miss the turn for Mon Abri,” he said. “You almost passed the driveway.”

I hit the brakes and put on my turn signal. “Sorry. My mind is in a million places. Here we go.”

Pépé patted his suit jacket in the spot where the .45 sat on his hip.

“Yes,” he said. “Here we go.”

We drove up the long, shaded drive and pulled up to the front entrance.

“That’s Charles’s BMW,” Pépé said as we got out of the car. “And Juliette’s Lexus. Wait here a minute.”

He disappeared around the side of the house. In a few minutes he returned. “There’s another car. A Honda.”

“That must be Jasmine’s,” I said. “What took you so long?”

“Just looking around. It’s quiet. Everyone must be inside.”

We climbed the stairs and Pépé rang the doorbell. The Westminster chime echoed inside the house.

“Luc? Lucie? What are you doing here?” Juliette opened the door, elegant in an electric blue jersey dress, a single strand of pearls, perfect makeup, hair upswept and regal.

“We were running errands in Middleburg so we stopped by to pick up Hope,” I said. “Jasmine’s babysitting her and Dominique said she came over here to get the flowers for tonight.”

Juliette frowned. “Couldn’t Jasmine have dropped her off at your home when she returned with the centerpieces?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “But it’s nearly time for Hope’s bath and her dinner. Eli called to say he was delayed. I told him we’d get her.”

“Really?” Her frown deepened. “Eli called Jasmine a moment ago to say he’d be waiting for them both when she got back to the Ruins.”

“Oh, gosh,” I said. “We probably got our wires crossed. I’ve been gone all afternoon. As long as we’re here, we’ll bring her home with us. Could we come in?”

“It’s not terribly convenient. Charles is having supper,” she said. “He won’t be at your dinner tonight. He’s made other plans. I’ll be there on my own.”

“We need to have a word with Charles, Juliette.” Pépé’s voice was gentle. “It’s important.”

“Couldn’t it wait?” Juliette fingered her pearls. “He’s not in the best frame of mind tonight. Why don’t you let Jasmine bring the child home and I’ll see you both later? It’ll be nice to spend some time with you, Luc.”

“There’s something Charles needs to know about Jasmine,” Pépé said. “And you may as well hear it, too, though I know it will be distressing.” He took her arm and stepped inside. “Please. Let’s go see him.”

“What about Jasmine?” she asked as we walked through the foyer. “I know about Charles’s … girlfriends, if you’re worried about that. I’m sure he’s already tried to make a pass at her. Don’t give it another thought. I’m used to it.”

It was the first time I’d heard Juliette speak openly about Charles’s infidelities. After what Pépé had said about how discreet and private she was about her marriage, the casual comment, as if she were discussing a routine household matter, surprised me.

Charles sat alone at the head of the table, eating a salad and drinking a glass of wine, in their dark, elegant dining room. The curtains had been drawn against the late-afternoon sun, making the lighting seem thick and cobwebby. Later I would remember that it had seemed as though we were all moving, talking, and thinking in slow motion or as though we were underwater.