Fatal Fixer-Upper (18 page)

We watched him chatter his way to the front door and bow himself out.

'Have you had a chance to see any of Waterfield yet, Philippe?' The way Melissa pronounced his name was pos itively caressing. 'Would you like me to show you around while Avery and Derek do their thing?'

'Why not?' Philippe said, looking darkly from Derek to me before turning a blinding smile on Melissa. 'I would love it if you would show me around,
ma belle
. Avery . . .'

He smirked, 'I will see you later,
oui
?'

'I'll be here,' I said. Melissa hooked her hand through Philippe's arm and guided him out, albeit not without a triumphant look back over her shoulder. To be honest, I wasn't sure whether it was directed at Derek or at me, and what's more, I didn't care.

. . .

'So that's the boyfriend,' Derek remarked when the door had closed behind the two of them. I nodded.

'Ex-boyfriend. Yes.'

'Phil.'

'Philippe. Yes.'

'Bah,' Derek said.

I laughed, surprised. 'What do you mean, bah?' No one had ever actually said bah to me before.

'If he's French, I'm Coco Chanel.'

'Of course he's French,' I said.

Derek arched a brow.

I added, 'I mean, just listen to him talk!'

'So he has a French accent. One he forgets when he gets angry. And he's picked up a few French words that he sticks into the conversation when he thinks they sound good. That doesn't make him French.'

'Of course he's French! He told me he grew up in Paris. He translates the menu at Le Coq au Vin. He spent two weeks in France just a few months ago.'

'I spent a year in France once, too,' Derek said. 'Didn't make me French.'

'Well, of course not, but . . . What were you doing in France?'

'Exchange program. Last year of high school. Don't change the subject.'

'I wasn't changing the subject. Just trying to determine what makes you qualified to decide. What makes you think Philippe isn't French?'

Derek shrugged. 'Nobody who's really French is that French.'

'You've got to be joking.'

He shook his head. 'Nope. He doesn't talk right. But you don't have to take my word for it. Kate's daughter speaks wonderful French, and Kate's is good, too. They'll tell you.'

'You want me to ask Kate and Shannon to determine if my old boyfriend is really French.'

'That's right,' Derek said. 'Kate's good. She'll be able to tell. Back when Kate and I were dating . . .' He stopped, flushing.

'Oh, ho!' I said. 'How long were you together?'

He squirmed. 'Not long. And we weren't together. We just went on a few dates. When she moved to town five years ago. Just after Melissa left. It's not important. Where were we?'

'We were talking about Kate,' I said. 'And you. Dating.'

'Let's just move past that, OK? Kate speaks French. Shannon speaks it almost natively. Her father was French.'

'I know; Kate told me. So what you're saying is that my boyfriend, the one I've worked with and dated for four months, is a fraud?'

'Afraid so.'

'I don't believe you,' I said flatly. 'You're just . . .' I hesitated. I wanted to say
jealous
, but I didn't dare. Derek declined the bait. 'Bet you I could prove it. Shannon owes me a favor.'

'Did you date her, too?' I probably sounded snide, but I was beyond caring. Derek looked shocked.

'Of course not. She's nineteen. I'm thirty-four. And besides, Kate would kill me.'

'That didn't bother Philippe,' I said. 'He's thirty-eight, and Tara is twenty-two.'

'I'm not Phil. And besides, we've already decided that he's a fraud. Why are you surprised that he'd sleep with a girl young enough to be his daughter?'

'
Almost
young enough to be his daughter.'

'Bah,' Derek said.

I smiled.

He added, 'What do you say we finish up for the day and go grab dinner?'

I widened my eyes. 'Are you asking me out?'

'I told Melissa we had plans to go to the Waymouth Tavern. If we don't go, she'll find out. You don't want Melissa on your case, do you?'

'Decidedly not. I'll get busy with my backsplash.'

'You do that,' Derek said.

. . .

The Waymouth Tavern turned out to be situated outside town, on top of the cliffs Mother had warned me about when I was little. If I had felt especially energetic the other night when I pedaled out to Mario's for pizza, and if I had continued down the ocean road another three miles or so, I would have come to it. It looked like a log cabin with lots of windows, and the inside was dark and cozy, with imitation Tiffany lamps and seating in individual booths along the walls.

The view over the Atlantic was breathtaking. Tiny lights bobbed on the water where fishing boats were headed out for a night's work, and a thin sliver of moon hung high in the sky. Thanks to Derek's boy scout trick of keeping a clean shirt in the truck, after a washup and a finger comb, he looked a lot less scruffy, and the food wasn't bad, either.

I had a crab cake sandwich and clam chowder, and Derek had a workingman's hamburger and fries. I like to talk, so I kept the pauses from getting too long and uncomfortable by making observations about the food, the restaurant, the view, and the weather, along with the house, the renovations, the fainting couch, and my surprise that Philippe had driven all the way up from New York to see it. If Derek didn't answer, I tried not to take it personally. Melissa and Philippe were nowhere to be seen, though, and I couldn't help but wonder if maybe Derek regretted having gone to dinner with me when there was nobody around to notice. No sooner had the thought entered my head than I heard a voice: 'Well, well! Look who's here.'

Oops! I glanced over at Derek, who was scowling.

'Don't get all excited, Kate. We're just having dinner.'

'Of course you are,' Kate said and winked at me. I made a face. 'Hi, Kate. Chief Rasmussen. Would you care to join us?'

'Oh, we wouldn't want to intrude,' Kate said coyly. Derek muttered something.

I raised my voice. 'Don't worry.'

'Well, if you don't mind.' Kate didn't need any more urging; she scooted into the booth next to Derek, bumping him companionably closer to the window with her hip.

'How are you?'

'Fine.'

'How are the renovations coming? Business is picking up at the B and B now that school's out, or I'd be over there helping you.'

Derek shrugged.

I turned to Wayne Rasmussen, who had moved onto the bench next to me. 'Evening, Chief.'

'How are you, Avery?' If Kate's mixture of sisterly indulgence and friendly flirtation toward Derek bothered him, the chief of police didn't show it. 'Everything OK? Nothing else has happened at the house, I hope?'

I shook my head. 'Nothing at all.'

'Except her boyfriend's arrived,' Derek said. Kate looked over at me, eyebrows disappearing under her cocurls.

'Boyfriend?'

'Phil,' Derek said.

'Philippe Aubert,' I corrected.

'I remember you mentioning him. So where is he?' She looked around, as if expecting Philippe to materialize in midair.

'Melissa took him on a tour of Waterfield,' Derek said.

'She just happened to drop in; I guess she smelled money. Either that or his cologne. She's probably hoping to get him to buy one of her obscene condos.'

Wayne looked from him to me and back. 'Why does he need a condo if Avery already has a house?'

'Derek isn't explaining it right,' I said. 'First, he's my ex-boyfriend. I dated him for four months, and then he cheated on me. We broke up just before I came up here. Secondly, the only reason he's here is because I called him last night to get his opinion on a piece of furniture I found in Aunt Inga's attic. It's a French fainting couch, eighteenth century, and Philippe is French as well as a furniture maker, so I figured he could give me some information over the phone. I didn't ask him to come here; he just decided to drive up on his own. And it's not because of me, it's because of the couch. If he was still interested in me, he wouldn't be spending the evening with Melissa.'

'And you wouldn't be spending it with me,' Derek said. I ignored him, addressing Kate and Wayne. 'Derek thinks Philippe is a fraud. He says Philippe acts too French to actually be French. It's ridiculous.'

Kate smiled indulgently, and Derek flushed. She turned to me. 'Don't worry, Avery. Wayne can look into him. Right, Wayne?'

'Sure,' Wayne said. 'Can't have people going around pretending to be Frenchmen. Not in my town.' He grinned at me.

'Fine,' I said. I wasn't ready to believe that Philippe had fooled me for months, but if Wayne could prove that he was exactly who and what he said he was, at least I could prove to Derek that I wasn't such an idiot as he thought.

'I'll check him out tomorrow morning. Tell me what you know about him.' Wayne pulled a pencil and his tiny notebook from his pocket, and I told him everything I knew about Philippe. As I went over it, I was amazed at how little it was. I knew that he liked French food and red wine and foreign movies, but I'd never seen his driver's license or his passport, so I had no actual proof that the name he'd given me was his real name. He'd said he grew up in Paris and studied at the Sorbonne, but I had no idea whether it was true or not. I had never spoken to his mother and I didn't know her name or where in Paris she lived. Now that Derek had sown the seed of doubt in my mind, I was questioning everything Philippe had ever said, and I wondered, with a sinking feeling, whether Derek could be right, and I was wrong.

'I feel like a fool,' I said.

Kate sent me a sympathetic look, and Derek a scowl, but Wayne shook his head.

'Don't. We don't know anything yet, and even if he turns out to be a fraud, you're not the first or last person to be taken in by one. At least he didn't take you for anything valuable.'

'Just my confidence,' I said, but not loudly. Derek glanced at me across the table but didn't speak. I forced a smile and turned back to Wayne. 'Any news on the missing professor?'

Wayne shook his head. 'Nothing new, I'm afraid.'

'Have you thought any more about the possibility that he might have pushed my aunt down the stairs and then disappeared to avoid being arrested?'

'If we had some proof that your aunt was pushed down the stairs,' Wayne said, 'I'd be more inclined to think about it. Do you have any reason to believe she was?'

'Not really,' I admitted. 'Except for the scary letter I got. And the fact that Dr. Ellis told me he was surprised when he learned that Aunt Inga had fallen down the stairs. He said that when she needed something from upstairs, she'd usually ask him or someone else to bring it down.'

'Anything else?' Wayne said.

'Martin Wentworth was looking into the history of the Morton family. When I visited the historical society today, I saw that he had taken the Morton file home earlier this year. The docent said she had suggested that the professor talk to Aunt Inga.'

'So?'

'What if they had an appointment that morning, and she said something he didn't like, and he pushed her? Or maybe she just fell, but he was afraid that he'd be accused of pushing her, and so he thought he'd better disappear? Maybe there was something in his past that would make it more likely that he'd be convicted, and he didn't want to take the chance.'

'That's not a bad theory,' Wayne admitted. 'There isn't anything like that in his background, though. Everyone I've spoken to agrees that he's a nice young man from a decent family trying to get on in life. He's never even had a parking ticket.'

'You've gone through his things, right?'

Wayne nodded. 'Both the office at the college and his small condo on the other side of town. Nothing in either place that shouldn't be there, and no clues where he went. Lots of research materials, though. We made an inventory, so I'll check and see if we have anything about your family.'

'I'd appreciate that. I'll go through the folder from the historical society tonight when I get home and see if I can figure out what he was interested in.' I nibbled on a crust of bread before I added, 'Did he keep a date book? With records of his appointments and things like that?'

'I'm told he did,' Wayne said, 'although we haven't found it. We found last year's book, ending in December, but Miss Morton wasn't in it. We're assuming he had this year's book with him when he left.'

'That makes sense,' I admitted.

Wayne nodded.

'What do you think happened to him? Off the record. Did he just leave? Or did someone do something to him?'

'I'm hoping he just left,' Wayne said. 'If he killed your aunt, accidentally or on purpose, that's likely what happened. If so, he'll resurface sooner or later when he gets tired of hiding or when someone recognizes him.'

'But?'

'But it's almost impossible to disappear without a trace. Most people who vanish eventually turn up dead. They had an accident, out of the way somewhere, and no one's stumbled on them yet, or someone killed them and hid the body. There are secret rooms and tunnels all over Waterfield, where someone could hide or be hidden.'

'Secret rooms and tunnels?' I repeated, my eyes big. Derek groaned and put his head in his hands.

'A few of the older houses around here have tunnels going down to the sea,' Kate explained. 'There was a lot of smuggling going on in the old days. And as recently as Prohibition, for that matter. Cliff House, the Willard place, Morganmeade . . .' She sighed enviously. 'Wish I had a secret passage in
my
house!'

'Wouldn't you be worried that someone could get into your house that way?'

Kate shook her head, but it was Wayne who answered.

'All the public access points are padlocked. The coast guard checks them regularly. Once in a while we get some idiot trying to do a bit of smuggling on the side, so we have to keep up.'

'I guess there's no way Professor Wentworth could have accidentally wandered into one of them and gotten locked in, then. And here I thought I had solved the case for you.'

Wayne smiled. 'It's not a bad idea, actually. It sounds like something he might have been interested in. I'll check with the coast guard to make sure everything's been locked up tight for the past couple of months. If one of the entrances was ever open, maybe we should check it out.'

'Glad I could help,' I said and glanced over at Derek. He took the hint. 'I guess we should go.'

Wayne stood up to let me slide out of the booth, and I said, as he sat down, 'I'll give you a call in the morning.'

He nodded. 'If you make it late morning, maybe I'll have some information on your boyfriend, too.'

'Ex-boyfriend,' Kate and I said in unison. I looked at her, and she grinned and winked and slid her eyes to the inscrutable Derek. I blushed.