The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,50
attention completely away from the treasure hunt, because the call was from the garage, saying that they’d be in touch as soon as possible with a report about the car. Almost as soon as she hung up, the hotel manager came to ask her to sign some documents for the Atlantique’s own insurance report. She followed him inside and signed the sheaf of papers he put in front of her, even as she wondered if she should have asked for a translator to tell her exactly what she was agreeing to.
‘I might have absolved them of all responsibility,’ she told Grace after she’d finished with them. ‘Though he did assure me it was all about the hotel’s potential liability.’
‘Be positive,’ urged Grace. ‘What will be will be. Are you going to stay here for a few days?’
‘I don’t have much choice,’ Deira replied. ‘It’s not like I have any means of getting away.’
‘It’s such a pity to have your holiday messed up,’ said Grace.
‘I seem to be managing to make a mess of my entire life right now, so what’s one more thing.’ Deira’s words were light, but her face told a different story.
‘Surely not,’ said Grace. ‘But if there’s anything I can do to help . . .’
‘I’m fine, really,’ said Deira, although she suddenly felt close to tears. She cleared her throat and smiled brightly. ‘I guess I could spend some time thinking about your new clue to keep my mind occupied. I could text you my ideas. Not that I have any right now.’
As she spoke, she asked herself if it was Grace’s seemingly perpetual positivity that helped her stay so calm and composed despite the tragedy that had befallen her. She wished she had some of it too, but the truth was that Gavin had sapped every drop from her.
‘That would be great,’ Grace said in response. ‘But I’m not in a rush to leave, so we could spend a little time brainstorming together if you like. How about some coffee to help?’
‘Coffee would be lovely.’
‘We thought the links were writers that Ken admired,’ said Grace when the drinks arrived. ‘So perhaps if we google “La Rochelle writers” it might set us on the right track.’
The top hit on her search was a writer named Pierre Drieu La Rochelle, who seemed to have spent all his life in Paris.
‘The professor said Georges, not Pierre,’ Deira pointed out.
Grace changed her search to ‘Georges writer La Rochelle’.
‘Oh, of course,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s Georges Simenon. Ken was a fan of his too. I should’ve remembered.’
Deira nodded. As with Jules Verne, she’d read a number of Simenon’s books, but not since her college days.
‘He wrote the Maigret detective novels,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen them as a TV series too. The crime must be something to do with one of his books, don’t you think? Maybe the café is fictional or maybe it’s in the town. D’you recall the professor mentioning one when you were there? Or could it be in the hotel he’s booked for you?’
‘It’d be a bit odd of Ken to book me into a crime scene, even a fictional one,’ said Grace. ‘The hotel is called the Fleur d’Île. We’ve never stayed there before, but it certainly doesn’t say anything on its website about it being the setting for a crime. Or a crime novel, for that matter.’
‘I don’t suppose it would,’ said Deira. ‘It wouldn’t want to advertise that its guests might get murdered over their breakfast.’
Grace laughed. ‘It actually seems like a very nice hotel. Better than the ones we stayed in when we had the kids with us, that’s for sure. In fact most of the hotels he’s booked me into are nice.’
‘You’re on a very exact itinerary,’ commented Deira. ‘Every night accounted for. No room for diversions.’
‘You think it’s weird, don’t you?’ said Grace.
‘A bit,’ admitted Deira. ‘He’s not really allowing you to do your own thing, is he?’
Oh for heaven’s sake, Hippo. Leave it to me. You need organising, you know you do.
Deira was right, Grace thought, as she heard her late husband’s voice in her head. But the thing was, she’d never minded letting him set the agenda. She was OK with being told what to do. It made sense that he’d be the one to take charge. Deira was being judgemental without knowing what their lives had been like. So many people were these days. Grace and Ken had met in simpler times.