Evan and Elle - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,15

complete the sentence. He felt himself blushing and cursed his fair Celtic skin.

“Don’t be bashful. You are a ’andsome man. You should be proud zat women admire you.”

Evan cleared his throat. “Yes, well. About this letter, Madame Yvette. I think I should show it to the criminal investigation division. They’ll want to compare it to other notes that have been found. And in the meantime keep your eyes open and call me if there’s anything suspicious . . .”

The dark eyes opened wider. “What sort of sing?”

“A stranger hanging around. Any more threats. Anyone who’s rude to you. A hostile neighbor, for example.”

“Mon dieu! You don’t really think I’m in danger, do you?” She put her hand to her breast in a dramatic gesture.

“No, I don’t, but you shouldn’t take any chances until the detectives have checked out the note. As I say, I’m not far away. Give me a call if you’re worried.”

“Sank you. You are tres gentil, as we say,” she said. “You speak French, maybe?”

“I took it in school, but I’ve not had much call to use it since. I can probably still conjugate a few verbs.”

“Ah . . .” She gave him a long, slow smile. “You never know when you might need to conjugate . . . verbs. I ’ave to go now. I look forward wiz pleasure to serving you at Chez Yvette. Au revoir, Monsieur Evans.”

Evan escorted her to the door. Phew, he thought. A woman like that is going to make some waves around here.

On Saturday evening Evan escorted Bronwen to his old bone-shaker.

“I’m not sure that I should introduce you to Madame Yvette,” Bronwen said. “She’s very—French.”

“I know. I already met her.”

“You did? when?”

“She came into the station. Someone had sent her a threatening letter telling her to go home.”

Bronwen frowned. “Like the one at the cottage?”

“Similar.”

“How awful. I hope that sort of thing isn’t going to spread.”

“I think it’s a few extremists, maybe just one bloke, but probably not. There are fingerprints on both the notes. Unfortunately not the same prints, and not the same method either. One was words cut from a newspaper, the other was printed in capital letters.”

“So it looks as if a group is involved?”

“Possibly. People who write threatening notes usually like to stick to the same method. Which suggests it wasn’t the same person.”

“Unless he couldn’t find all the words he needed in the newspaper this time,” Bronwen suggested.

Evan opened the car door for her and she climbed in. “So what did you think of Madame Yvette?” she asked.

Evan got in beside her. “I agree with Terry. Very sexy. In fact, I think I should sign up for those classes myself, just so I can watch her bending over a hot stove. Ow!” he added as Bronwen hit him.

“We had our first lesson today,” she said. “It was fascinating. I’m going to try out the recipe she taught us and if it’s anything like the original, I’ll cook it for you. Actually it mightn’t be a bad idea if you did take cooking classes. You’ve got to learn to live alone someday.”

“I don’t see why,” he said. “I always thought that’s what women were for—no, don’t hit me when I’m driving!”

He was backing into the parking area outside Chapel Beulah so that he could turn around. Suddenly he swore under his breath and jammed on the brakes. “Bloody young idiot,” he shouted as he stopped the car and flung open his door.

“What is it?” Bronwen asked.

Evan was already half out of the car. “Young Terry. I almost backed into him. He was already yelling. What were you thinking, riding that close to me, Terry? You could see I was backing up.”

“I was coming to find you,” Terry shouted. His voice was high and shrill. “There’s another fire!”

“Where?”

“Up there—the Everest Inn.”

“Another fire, Bron,” Evan yelled as Bronwen emerged from the car. “Go and call 999, will you?”

A flickering glow outlined the giant chalet as Evan started to run up the hill. As he passed Charlie Hopkins’s cottage young Bryn emerged ahead of his grandfather.

“Another fire, Mr. Evans!” he shouted. “My grandma’s calling the brigade. Don’t worry. We’ll soon have it out!”

The next morning Sergeant Watkins joined Evan at the Everest Inn car park.

“I’m surprised that Peter Potter let you come before he’s been over the scene himself,” Evan said.

“His day off, isn’t it?” Watkins chuckled. “We’ve put in a call but he’s not at home. Probably gone back to England for the weekend. I bet you’re