Evan and Elle - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,58

“He said go ahead, but if he gets expenses for Paris hotels and the Folies Bergères, he’s going to veto them.”

“It doesn’t make sense to go until the morning,” Watkins said. “By the time we got over there everything would be closed. And we’ve already paid for our hotel here. I bet that old dragon wouldn’t refund us our money.”

“So what shall we do for the rest of the afternoon?” Evan asked. “We could always go and talk to the ex-neighbors in the village. One of them might have been friendly with her or might have seen something useful.”

“It’s worth a try,” Watkins said. “It’s either that or an hour’s kip in a deck chair—and the wind’s a little cold for that.”

They drove back along the windy Downs road to the village of Alfriston. A coach was parked outside the Packhorse pub and tourists were cluttering the high street, taking pictures and looking into antique shop windows.

They went into the pub first and chatted to the landlord. Yes, he remembered the restaurant. It hadn’t done too well, although people said the cooking was very good. Still, most folks didn’t go in for fancy French muck, did they? he asked genially. And most trippers came out for an afternoon drive, had a cup of tea and went home.

“Tell me about the couple who owned it—the Bouchards,” Watkins asked. “Did you know them?”

“I said good morning when we passed in the street,” the publican said, “but I can’t say that I knew them. They kept themselves pretty much to themselves. Always together, they were. And after he died, you hardly ever saw her. Of course, she was trying to run that place alone. I don’t know how she did it. I’m run off my feet here and I’ve got the two girls to help me.”

“But what did you think of them?” Evan interrupted.

The man shrugged. “I don’t know what to say to that. They didn’t cause no trouble, if that’s what you’re getting at. Quiet. Good-looking couple, in a foreign kind of way. She was more friendly than him. He was a bit on the surly side, but maybe his English wasn’t as good as hers. I know he did all the heavy work and she did all the cooking. She told me that. She said she was a trained chef—very proud of it, she was.”

“Did she have any friends here in the village?” Evan asked.

“I think she was quite chummy with Brenda in the greengrocers. She used to buy a lot of her fresh produce from them.”

“The greengrocers?”

“Just down the street. You can’t miss it. There’s five shops and that’s one of them. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got customers waiting.”

He turned away, wiping his hands on his apron as he went. “Now then, ladies, what will it be?”

Watkins and Evan walked around the trippers and continued along the high street until they came to the greengrocers. A large-boned woman was carrying out a box of cabbages as they approached. She put it down and smiled as she saw them standing there.

“What can I get for you gentlemen?” Her voice had a pleasant country softness, and her face had the rosy cheeks of a life spent in the open air. It was hard to judge her age, but Evan thought she was possibly younger than she looked. This was borne out by a toddler on a trike appearing from inside the shop.

“Get that thing back inside, Jimmy. Not near the street. I’ve told you a thousand times,” she said and gave him a little shove to redirect him. “Sorry. He’s at that age,” she said. “A right terror like his big brother was.”

“Are you Brenda? We’re from the North Wales Police,” Sergeant Watkins said. “We understand that you used to know the French couple who owned the restaurant that burned down.”

“The police?” A wary look came over her face.

“We’re investigating another restaurant fire and we think they might be linked,” Evan explained.

She nodded. “What a terrible thing to happen. I looked out of my window and I saw those flames. There was nothing anyone could do. It went up like a torch—well, it would do with the thatched roof, wouldn’t it? Regular firetraps, those old buildings are. I’m only glad they got her out alive, although I hear she was badly burned. I often wandered how she was doing.”

“She’s fine,” Evan said. “She moved to North Wales and opened another restaurant.”

“Did she? Fancy that. North Wales, eh?”

“Did you know her