02_Coyote in Provence (24 page)

Both of them were quite for the rest of the drive. Jordan was hoping he’d made the right decision and Elena was wondering what the future held for her.

As Jordan drove the car into the driveway of Elena’s cottage, in addition to everything they’d seen during the day, each of them was saddened to know that this was the last night they would spend together for some time, perhaps forever.

CHAPTER 36

It was just before dawn; the time of day when the color of the sky changed from the dark blackness of the dead of night, to soft blue, and then to pink, and finally to the vivid blue of a fresh new day. Elena liked to sleep with the louvered windows open, letting the night breeze gently sweep into her bedroom and over her body.

She listened to Jordan’s rhythmic breathing and knew he was still sleeping. She gingerly opened one eye.
I need to keep this moment in my mind, this moment of total happiness of just being next to him.  I can’t let him know how much I’m going to miss him.

Elena continued to look at him, completely at peace, happier than she’d been in a long, long time. She knew all that was going to change, but for now she was determined to simply be in the moment, this precious and wonderful moment with Jordan.

He stirred and slowly opened his eyes. “Good morning, beautiful. You know, Elena, you kind of remind me of a coyote when you do that. Coyotes are loners and watch things for hours. Yup, I think I’ll call you my little coyote from now on. How long have you been watching me?”

“For about half an hour. You don’t move much when you sleep. I’ll bet you’re one of those people who sleeps in one position all night and when you get up the next morning, you only have to make one side of the bed.  The sleep of the innocent.”

“And you don’t sleep that way?” he asked.

“No. I’m afraid I’m a very restless sleeper. I toss. I turn. And then I do it all over again. Always have. When I get up in the morning, I have to tuck in the sheets at the bottom and remake the entire bed.”

“Come here little coyote. Let me hold you one last time. You know I’m going to miss you the minute I pull out of the driveway, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’d really like to know what you and Chief Lewis decide to do about Pierre. I’ll give you my email address. It’s a way for us to stay in touch. I promise I won’t clog up your email inbox with cute jokes and other silly things, okay?” She smiled, but the tears pooling in her eyes said something entirely different.

“Somehow, it never occurred to me that you would.  When I get to California, is there someone I could call for you?  Is there something you’d like me to send you?”

“I don’t need anything, but I would like you to make a call for me. I was very upset when I left the United States. In fact, I was so upset I didn’t even tell my parents I was leaving. I’m sure they’ve been very worried about me.  Would you mind calling them and telling them that you met their daughter in France, and that she’s fine?  I’ll give you their number. They don’t live too far from you.”

“Of course. I’d be happy to do that. And I’ll tell them their daughter is very fine; especially when she’s in bed with me!”

Elena laughed and the mood lightened. “We’ve never discussed families other than that you come from a family of policemen. What about your family?”

“They live on the East Coast and I don’t see much of them. My father was a policeman and left my mother when my brother and I were very young. She raised us and then remarried when we left home. Actually, I think she’d been having an affair with my stepfather for a long time.  They moved to a Florida retirement community a few years ago. My brother lives in Philadelphia and we see each other every year or so. I can’t say I’m particularly close to him.  Maybe I’ve never been particularly close to anyone, but I feel very close to you.”

She put her finger on his lips. “No. Don’t say anything more that’s going to make this any harder than it is. I really don’t want you to see me fall apart, and I’m pretty close to it right now. Let’s just enjoy one another one more time and then you can be on your way.”

In the past few days, the love-making between them had been erotic, joyful and deeply satisfying. This time their sexual mood shifted from being like two hungry people knowing they may never eat again to the bittersweet feeling of two people who have known complete happiness and are trying desperately to make it last. Both of them knew they’d never be satisfied with anyone else. It was a tender and poignant moment.

Two hours later Jordan put the last of his things in his suitcase, took the sheet of paper with her parents’ telephone number on it and Elena’s email address, and put it in his sling bag. He gave her his card and wrote his personal email address on the back. Then he put his hands on each side of her face and kissed her deeply. “This is not the end, my little coyote. I don’t know how or when, but we will be together. That I promise you.”

“Oh, Jordan, I wish it could be. I so wish it could be. Leave, leave now.
Adieu.”

He turned, picked up his suitcase and sling bag and walked through the door. Jordan never looked back. He didn’t want Elena to see the tears in his eyes. She couldn’t walk outside and say goodbye. She was sobbing uncontrollably behind the door to her cottage which she’d gently closed when Jordan walked out. 

CHAPTER 37

Jordan stopped by the Marseille Police Department, returned the gun they’d loaned him, and continued to the airport. He turned in his rental car, took the shuttle bus back to the airport and went through security. The clock above the arrival/departure screen showed he had about an hour before his plane took off for Paris. Enough time for one last glass of really good Rhône red wine. That was something he definitely was going to miss.

The airport bar was jammed. He couldn’t figure out whether it was the tail end of tourist season, or if all of the businessmen were getting a jump on international travel by leaving on Sunday. He was just glad he wasn’t in a hurry.

“
Monsieur
, may I get you something to drink?” the pot-bellied bartender asked.

“Yes. I’d like a glass of your best Rhône wine. I’ve developed a taste for it since I’ve been in the region.”

A few minutes later the genial bartender brought him the Rhône. “If I may say so,
Monsieur
, you look very sad. Would it be caused by an affair of the heart?”

Only the French would think someone was sad because of romance
. Even so, he found himself saying, “Yes, I had to leave a lady I’ve fallen in love with, and I don’t know when I’ll see her again.”

“Ahh,
oui
,
Monsieur
. That is a reason for sadness. The wine will help and so will time. Affairs of the heart can never be ignored. Excuse me, but the man at the end of the bar is signaling me,” he said, turning away from Jordan.

Maybe her parents can tell me why she left California so suddenly after her husband’s death. It’s really odd that she didn’t even tell them she was leaving or where she’s currently living.

As his thoughts turned to Pierre, he realized he’d neglected to email the chief for the last couple of days. He slid off the barstool and walked over to a booth that had just become vacant, took his phone out of his sling bag and began typing.

Chief, I’m sorry to be so long in getting back to you, but the trail on Pierre went cold after I located three of the stolen paintings. Evidently the rest of the paintings were sold, and I had no luck finding him or his family. It was kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack. I don’t know what you’ve found out, but I’m ready to let the case go and close the file. From what I understand, even if we locate some more or all of the paintings, it would almost be impossible to get them returned to the United States. I spoke with the Marseille Chief of Police and he told me that French authorities are very reluctant to do anything in cases like this. The gallery owner who bought the painting in St. Victor la Coste is an artist himself with little financial means. If he had to return the painting to the insurance company in California that paid the Laguna Beach art gallery for its loss, it would be a huge hardship on him, and might cause him irreparable financial harm, even bankruptcy. Even if we could locate the others, we’d probably have the same result.

The United States can’t force the galleries to return the paintings because of international treaties that exist between the two countries. And without Pierre, I think we’re finished.  I’m leaving Marseille in a few minutes for Paris and then back to Los Angeles. I’ll be in the office on Tuesday. Let me know what you’ve found out on your end.

By the way, I’m attaching a photo to this email of the woman I spoke to you about, Elena Johnson. Would you see if you can find something out about her? I’d appreciate it. I’ll talk to you when I get back.

He sat there for a long time, thinking about the last few days. Jordan felt his cell phone vibrate, indicating there was an incoming phone call. He didn’t feel like talking, so he waited for voicemail to pick it up and then listened to it.

It was Chief Lewis. “It’s the middle of the night, but I got up to go to the bathroom and saw that I had a message. Jordan, you did a very good job. I’m sorry you couldn’t find Pierre’s family, because we’ve had no luck on this end as well. We’ve run into a brick wall.

“Although we’ve talked to several chefs who know him, and speak of him as being highly gifted, none of them knows who he works for or how to get in touch with him. I think it would be a waste of our time and resources to pursue this case any further. Even if we find him, we have no hard evidence that he’s the one who committed the crime. Have a safe trip home, get some rest, and I’ll talk to you Tuesday. By the way, your captain called and evidently there was a million dollar theft at a Pre-Columbian gallery on Melrose Avenue. He’s glad you’re coming back, and said to tell you that the case needs your immediate attention and expertise.”

Jordan heard his flight being called and put the phone back in his sling bag. He boarded the plane and was pleased to find that his seat was in the front row of the cabin on both flights, so he could stretch out his legs. He got a book out of his sling bag and put the bag in the compartment above his seat
,
thinking he’d much rather have Elena next to him, talking to him during the long flight. Books were good companions, but Elena would have been much better.

Well, evidently Chief Lewis isn’t going to do anything else on this case.
I may be finished with Pierre and the Younts, but I am definitely not finished with Elena.
I need to call her parents and go see them as soon as possible.

CHAPTER 38

After Jordan left, Elena
cleaned the kitchen, straightened up the house, watered the plants, showered, and dressed for work.

Well, fortunately it’s time for me to go back to work. Maybe it’ll help ease the pain in my heart. I wonder if I should have told Jordan everything.
Maybe he would have understood and decided to stay and live here in Provence with me.

He’ll probably learn everything about me from my parents. I never should have given him their number. I wasn’t thinking clearly. No one can forgive me for what I did, and particularly a policeman. It’s probably just as well. I’ll have wonderful memories of our short time together for the rest of my life.

When she finished, she walked down the lane to Henri’s Bakery. It was a busy day and it helped keep her mind off of Jordan. When the lunch crowd was gone and it was time for her to leave, she felt lost, at loose ends.

As she was leaving Henri’s, she remembered that the wonderful days she’d spent with the man she’d fallen deeply in love with had begun because of an Alfred Mitchell painting on display in the gallery in the village
.
Although she vaguely remembered the painting, she decided to visit the gallery and look at it again. Jordan had said it was one of the best paintings by Mitchell he’d ever seen.

She hoped the walk would clear her head and she was curious about the Mitchell painting. A few minutes later she spotted it in the window of the Galerie Reynaud. Jordan was right; it was a little jewel. On an impulse, she decided to buy it as a remembrance of Jordan. She opened the door of the gallery, setting off a little bell.
Monsieur
Reynaud came into the gallery from the back room, wiping his hands on the smock he wore.

“
Monsieur,
may I take a look at the painting in the window?”

She examined it and understood what Jordan had been talking about. If he hadn’t told her about the frame, she wouldn’t have noticed that it seemed much newer than the painting. It looked exactly like the one on the painting at the Younts’ home.

“
Monsieur
, what are you asking for this painting?”

“Ahh,
Mademoiselle
, it is an excellent piece by a well-known early California Impressionist, Alfred Mitchell. I am asking 4,500 Euros. I am sure I could get more than that for it, but the tourist season is over and I need some cash to buy some painting supplies. In fact, starting next week I will be closed on Sundays until spring. It’s fortunate that I was here today.”

“I’m glad you were open. I want to buy the painting. I assume I can pay for it by check?”

“Indeed! My pleasure. You look familiar. Do you live locally?”

“My name is Elena Johnson. I am the luncheon chef at Henri’s Bakery. I don’t think I’ve seen you there.”

“Ahh,
Mademoiselle
, the pleasure is mine. Your reputation precedes you. Everyone is talking about the wonderful lunches at Henri’s. I don’t like crowds, but I love to eat!  Excuse me.  Let me wrap this for you. Would you like me to put it in a bag?”

“Yes, please. I would appreciate it if you could put it in one with handles.
Merci beaucoup
.”