Read Online The 13th Fellow: A Mystery in Provence by Tracy Whiting - Free Book Online

answered.
    “Where’s Mom?” she asked before he could begin sermonizing.
    “She’s in the parlor playing the piano.” She imagined he heard his wife tinkling the keys, hoped it had the effect of soothing his disquiet about his one and only child.
    “Tell her I love her. I love you, too.” Havilah’s eyes welled up. She knew her father wanted more answers but he was biting his tongue because she had insisted.
    “And I love you more, lemon seed.” He had always called her some variation of a fruit seed.
    “I love you the most.”
    “Oh, you got me.” He feigned disappointment.
    The “I Love You” back and forth was a game they had played from the time she could say the words. He always let her win.
    “Has Nana Naida arrived?”
    “No. She usually comes up from Mobile in July. And heads back South after the hurricane season in November. You know that, honey.”
    She did. But she wanted to be sure. Everything seemed precarious to her now. She needed some certainties.
    “Dad?”
    “Yes?”
    “Drive. Don’t take a plane. And you can come back on the 24th.” She anticipated having it all figured out by the time she gave her remarks. Either that or I’ll be dead.
    “Will do. Be safe, my baby.”
    With that said, she disconnected the call. The bathtub was full and too hot. She decided to read through her emails while she waited for the water to cool. She returned to the bedroom to pull out her laptop. She then looked around the room. This was the first opportunity she had had since arriving to appreciate the space. She liked it. It was large for a French hotel room. She knew she would sleep well here, with the breeze coming from the opened balcony doors. She could hear the calming rustle of the waves. She didn’t think any killer was nimble enough to scamper along the stone building with nothing but the sea underneath them to whack her.
    She then opened her subcompact laptop on the small mahogany desk. Thanks to the hotel’s WI-FI, she was at Astor’s website and into her email in less than a minute.
    There were fifteen messages. Most were from academic organizations announcing conferences; there were several mass emails to the faculty. She quickly read and deleted those. There was one message, however, marked “Urgent!” from Astor’s president.
    She responded to the president and copied the university’s provost:
Dear Charles and Rina,
I made it safely to Cassis. I am sure Laurent has filled you both in on the details. I was escorted here by the French SPHP; they believe I can help them in some way. It is terrible. I have no idea who could have done this to Kit, or why? And truthfully, given how things turned out for him, I really would prefer NOT to know. I will attend the dinner this evening and the board meeting in the morning and prepare my remarks for the celebration. After that I am on the first plane out of here to leave the police to their work. I look forward to seeing you, Charles, at the ceremony.
    * * *
    She had lied. She had every intention of finding out what happened to Kit. Her life now depended on it. She shut down the computer and headed for the bathroom to check the water’s temperature. It was still quite warm but she needed a hot bath to help her sleep.

VII
    Nashville, Tennessee, Astor University, June 21st
    Charles Chastain’s cell phone vibrated at 9:30 a.m. He saw the message was from Havilah. The late fortyish, bespectacled Chastain, Astor’s second youngest president, decided to wait to read her email. He had just attended a meeting about green space, space planning, and expansion. The university wanted to expand. But in a city, space was at a premium. The pristine campus was a national arboretum with its tall Magnolias, Bicentennial Oak, flowering trees, tulips and pansies, and liriope, otherwise known as monkey grass. There were over 300 species of trees and shrubs. Chastain was very sensitive to environmental concerns.
    He understood that wherever and however they