were now reluctant to share what it was? Was fear of reprisal holding them back, or something else? I was determined to find out exactly what it was.
More than flowers, plants and bones were buried here.
Chapter 30
Laced With More Than Garlic
When Martha returned, I walked over to check out her purchases from the flea market in Les Issambres. She had ridden the old French bicycle she found in the garage and taken my market basket and hung it from the handlebars.
“Wow, Martha! This is quite a haul you have here.”
“I needed a few extras that I forgot to bring with me.”
I reached in, grabbing and holding up an item from her basket. It was lacey… a French thong? I grinned.
She quickly snatched it from my grasp. “Hey, it’s the French Riviera!”
“And you’re on vacation!” I added, laughing.
“Yes, exactly!”
“Anything goes, including the French gardener!”
“Precisely!” she said laughing, and then froze. Busted!
I made a zipping motion. “My lips are sealed.”
She sat down on a bench and I joined her. I gently poked her, still laughing. “Is something in the wine here making you suddenly reconsider your senior boycott?”
She turned to me, smirking. “I must admit, surprisingly, this vintage is pretty good, if I do say so myself.”
There was a loud pounding noise nearby and we both jumped to our feet.
Martha said, “Now, what in blazes is that racket?”
We both scrambled over to the small window in the garage that faced Martine’s to see what was going on.
“Look!” she whispered. “You can see through that spot in the hedge to Martine’s property from here!”
I looked over too. “It’s that quiet, older woman, Claudine; Martine’s housekeeper. Hey, do you smell that, Martha? She’s cooking in the outdoor summer kitchen. She laces all her dishes with tons of fresh garlic. You’re going to love it. Don’t forget we’re due there at seven.”
Martha pointed. “Hey, she’s grabbing a live chicken by the neck, throwing it down on that butcher block and…”
My hand automatically went to my throat, as I swallowed. “Jeeeeez! Will you look at that?”
“That woman wielded that knife like a pro,” said an admiring Martha. “That damn chicken didn’t see the light of day; just like in those crime shows on TV.”
“Hey, she’s an old French cook just doing her job.”
“That sure ends that mystery,” Martha said, slowly pulling away from the window and shaking her head in amazement. “That’s one cook who knows her way around a kitchen.”
Like Martha said, another mystery solved. I tried smiling, but that image flew by me again, and I shuddered.
“I guess we’re having chicken tonight.”
Chapter 31
Surprise At Sunset
We sipped wine out on the deck and watched the moon slowly rise over the Mediterranean from the bedroom level terrace. Dusk was setting in. Yachts cruised by and cars snaked in and out of view along the coast road down below us, while the sea ebbed and flowed, splashing the rocks.
Martha leaned back on her chaise lounge, relaxed.
“If my friends could just see me now.”
“What would they say?” I asked, turning to her.
“That I had finally cheated them out of the most primo beach time of all. I can hear their voices now.”
The doorbell rang. Martha turned her head in my direction. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No,” I said. “Are you?” Nothing surprised me with her.
The doorbell rang insistently three more times in a row. She finally stood up. “I swear, I know better, but still...there’s no way in hell this could happen to me twice.”
I laughed, knowing my secret email invite had worked, but still acted clueless. “Come on, what are the odds?”
“About a million to one against me,” she threw back.
“There’s one way to find out. I’ll go see,” I offered.
Martha turned to follow. “I’ll come for back up.”
We both scrambled down the marble
Hugh Cave
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Daniela Fischerova, Neil Bermel
TASHA ALEXANDER
ADAM L PENENBERG
Susan Juby