Chapter Three

Three

T he restaurant was just two blocks from the bed-and-breakfast owned by Delphine Matisse and naturally, it did indeed carry Matisse wines along with French specialties, something they discovered as soon as they were seated.

Matisse wines were advertised on a placard on the table.

The hostess had given them menus, and Daniel was already perusing the food.

"Were you thinking about the snails?" Daniel asked Jeannette as he studied the menu.

"No, and I'm not having duck legs, either!" she told him. She winced. "Not at all sure about some of these, and I'm feeling a little... Well, the French are known for their cuisine!"

"And the snails are probably excellent," Daniel said, grinning.

"Good. You feel free to enjoy them. I'll watch."

"Hey. Lots of people eat snails."

"And they are welcome to enjoy. To me...a snail is a creepy critter from the lawn."

"But you'll eat a cow?"

She shook her head, laughing. "You might have just turned me into a vegetarian. But, hmm, I think I will try a Matisse sparkling wine. This one looks good!"

Fortunately, the menu was in French and English so Jeannette didn't need to rely on her schoolgirl knowledge of the language. Then again, she had the feeling Daniel did have a real comprehension of French; she didn't think they'd wind up in too much trouble.

She pointed at the separate wine menu. "‘Light and lightly sweet, one of our fan favorites!'" she read.

Their waiter came to their table, greeting them in French. Jeannette was glad she could at least return, "Bonsoir!"

"Lovely, mademoiselle!" he told her. "I do speak English fluently. And I'm happy to help you in any way."

He was young. A good-looking man in his late twenties or early thirties, Jeannette thought. She smiled at him and asked, "I was thinking about this sparkling wine, light and sweet? Any thoughts?"

"Yes, very nice and light," he told her. "And from one of our small but prestigious houses. Have you toured the vineyards yet?"

"No, but we met Madame Matisse this morning," Daniel said. "My cousin and I are staying there."

"Oh, your cousin!" the waiter said, beaming at Jeannette. "A special trip?"

"Graduation," Daniel said. "She's visited my part of the family in Scotland and saw London, but Paris and a tour of the vineyards was a special graduation trip."

"Wonderful. I'm Alphonse, and if you need anything, just call my name. Two of the Matisse?" he asked them.

"I would love a beer," Daniel said, shrugging as he looked at Jeannette.

"Perfect. The House of Matisse also brews a great dark beer, a stout," Alphonse told them.

"Wonderful," Jeannette said. "We're staying at her house, and the accommodations are great and reasonable. She's so nice that I want to support her business."

Alphonse nodded. "She always appears to be lovely," he murmured.

"Oh! Is it all a facade?" Daniel asked him.

Alphonse shook his head. "No, no, she took over when her husband died. And I know she wants to groom her son to take over after her, but..." He shrugged. "He doesn't want to live that life anymore. Oh, she had a husband. He was big in politics, and together, they were... What do you call it? Quite the power couple. Anyway, she works very hard, hires locals and tries to make tourists have a great time. She's great. Not like—" he broke off, looking pained and embarrassed.

"Not like who?" Daniel asked.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"No, no, please!" Jeannette said sweetly. "Please, please, warn us about where we should be putting our tourist dollars and where we shouldn't, and where...well, you know, frankly, we can hang out and imbibe and..."

He still looked uncomfortable, but Jeannette hoped her honest smile was swaying him.

"There are a few other smaller family-owned vineyards. Head of one is Tomas Deauville, and he...he and his wife think that the world should bow to them."

"Extremely entitled?" Daniel asked. He shook his head.

Alphonse nodded grimly. "They come in here sometimes like they own the world, treat us all as if we were their personal slaves, and while we're different from America, with certain gratuities built in, most people throw down a few euros when they've had good service. Not the Deauville couple."

"I don't think we'll even stop at their winery!" Jeannette said.

Alphonse shrugged. "If you're on a tour, you'll probably go by. But..."

"We certainly will not buy anything there!" Jeannette murmured. "I've waitressed and I know the kind of people you're talking about!"

Alphonse nodded grimly. "Then there is Leticia Montague and her husband, George. Inherited money, and again... I guess when you grow up with everything in the world, you keep expecting it." He leaned closer to the table and murmured, "And their wine stinks! Literally. And to drink. But... I'm afraid that if you're taking the local tour—the long one—you'll see their welcome bistro."

"Do you actually see any of these people?" Daniel asked Alphonse. "I mean, don't they have tons of employees working for them?"

"Oh, of course, but sometimes they stop in. I heard a woman here complaining the other day that Leticia was the rudest human being she'd ever seen. She was screaming at her people in front of a tour that had just come in, treating them as if they were the dirt her grapes were grown in! Then, of course, she turns it on for the guests, all Miss Smiles and welcome." He paused. "I guess that's why we all like Delphine Matisse. She behaves as if we're all part of humanity and are all due respect."

"That's really great to hear!" Jeannette assured him.

Alphonse suddenly grew serious and frowned. "You are visitors, new here. But I believe people have heard about the recent murders with the bodies discovered out here—on the news in about every language known to man. I don't remind you of this to scare you, but just to... Well, we believe this area is just the disposal place for the bodies. The girls were murdered elsewhere. But I remind you just so that you are very careful." He sighed. "Some were worried no one would come here. But...we are busier than ever. Maybe people hope to find more than grapevines." He winced. "Like the morgue years ago...the bodies of the deceased were free entertainment. Oh, of course, so the police could discover their identities. I don't believe we carried wallets or cell phones around at the time, so..." He broke off, shaking his head. "So, murder and horror—and we are more popular than ever. Still, be careful, be careful." He grinned suddenly. "Cousins. Mademoiselle is your cousin, but, monsieur, you must protect the mademoiselle, as you are family."

"Of course. Aye, we've heard, and thank you! We will be careful," Daniel promised.

"Pardonnez-moi!" Alphonse said suddenly. "The boss is looking at me. I'd best move on to work a bit harder! As soon as you have ordered."

An older man was watching their table, a brow arched as he stared at Alphonse.

Alphonse smiled and asked quickly, "Have you decided on food?"

"I think I'll take the dos de cabillaud ," Jeannette told him. "It's just fish filets, right?"

He laughed. " Oui , mademoiselle. Cod, as you call it."

"So, I turned you into a pescatarian," Daniel teased. "Fine. I'll be polite and go with the same!"

Looking at Jeannette and giving her an appreciative smile, Alphonse told them, "It is very good here. A specialty. Be right back with your drinks!"

He left their table, stopped at another, then hurried to the bar to get their drinks before disappearing into the kitchen with their food order.

"I think this one really likes you !" Daniel said, grinning.

"And he warned us both."

Daniel laughed. "And I guess he doesn't realize you carry your own big gun. Maybe that's best."

"I make good bait."

"It's believable that you might have just graduated from college. I don't like the idea of bait—"

"Sometimes it's necessary and it works."

Daniel didn't argue, but he didn't look happy. "Such strange murders are world news, and I'm assuming the killer or killers had to expect that, maybe even to want it. They must be a little on edge out here—all the bodies discovered here. Though, as Alphonse said, they weren't killed where their bodies were discovered."

"So, they were killed in Paris or another nearby city or even here—good-sized city, plenty of places where they may have a setup for draining the blood of their victims. They might have been killed just about anywhere. But—"

"Close. Somewhere close," Daniel said. "Anyway, there's that boss of Alphonse's. I think I'll have a little chat with him."

"Tell the boss how helpful and wonderful Alphonse was, and how we'll be coming back here and recommending the place and giving it five stars because of him!" Jeannette said.

"Exactly. We just got a great deal of information from him. And—"

"You think a vineyard owner could be involved in these murders?" Jeannette asked.

"It's possible. Still, of course, we need to follow any Paris connections, all the places the girls went together. And...well, we're here. We need to take that tour tomorrow after we head out with Gervais LaBlanc and see what we can see."

"Forewarned and forearmed now?" Jeannette asked.

"It will be interesting if we see any of these people from today. And here's the thing—just because you're a terribly nasty and entitled asshole, it doesn't make you a murderer," Daniel said.

"True."

"Let me go speak to Alphonse's boss and sing his praises."

He left the table. While he was gone and speaking to the man Alphonse had indicated to be his boss, the waiter returned to the table with their drinks.

"If you have free time and you want a guide, remember where to find me!" he told her. "I work evenings, off during the morning, and my days of total freedom are Sunday and Monday!"

She smiled and thanked him.

Daniel returned to the table. "I think I did good things for our informative friend," he told her. "And I overheard a bit of the last. You have made a conquest."

Jeannette groaned.

"Hey, we may need that conquest at some time!"

"Ah, well, I think your conquest may be the more important one," she told him. "Madame Matisse is the good one—socially, she must come across the others at times. Hmm. Again, not that being an ass makes one a murderer, but then again, being nice doesn't make one innocent of all evil, either!"

"Well, we've got to get back. Let's appreciate Alphonse's friendship. One never knows what one might need when," Daniel said.

The sparkling wine was good, light and easy, just as it was described. Daniel shrugged and said his beer was fine; it was beer.

The food came and the fish was excellent.

"This is really good," Daniel said. "I guess I'm glad I turned you into a pescatarian. Wonderful choice."

Jeannette grinned. "See? There you go."

He leaned a little closer as he said, "Now the boss is watching us."

"Maybe he watches all tourists. Or, did you offend him?"

"I don't think so. I told him how charming it was and how we'd get on all the online sites and give them five stars."

"Maybe he's just curious."

"Maybe. Anyway, in case I need help with my mental notes, his name is Damon Barnier."

"Your mental notes? I can hardly reside within your head!" Jeannette told him.

"No, I write things down at night. Helps me."

She nodded, taking another bite of her fish. "I have no idea why..." she murmured.

"Why what?"

"I keep going back to Elizabeth Báthory. But again, these victims have been found pristine other than being dead and completely drained of their blood. Whether true or not, the court case against the woman listed horrible tortures done to her servants, mostly young women. And according to modern reports, it didn't matter when poor servant girls went missing, no one noticed until girls who came to her court to be ladies-in-waiting, more or less girls from good families gaining prestige from the Báthory name, began to disappear. Oh! And while some said the torture and killing didn't begin until her husband died, others said he was involved! That they enjoyed the torture together, and she just continued after he passed away. And they put their victims in freezing water until they died. They cut them with knives and scissors. They did the thing where they covered them in honey and watched them become eaten alive by insects. So..."

"This isn't Hungary, you know."

Jeannette shrugged. "And her castle is now in Slovakia and her family ruled Transylvania, which was part of Hungary then and is part of Romania now. But the thing isn't the place—"

"I know," he told her quietly. "What is truth may not matter. Place may not matter. What someone admires or believes—some very sick someone—is what matters. But we don't need to jump to the concept of a vampire or a Countess Báthory. We're looking for a vicious serial killer in the here and now."

"I know that and I don't mean to harp—"

"That said, knowing history is a good thing here! Our last case involved a twist on history, intentional or not, so..."

"Right. Sorry."

"No, no! Don't be sorry. Theories are great. We just follow the evidence and see if it fits the theory rather than making the evidence fit the theory."

Jeannette nodded and was startled to suddenly yawn. "Excuse me!" she apologized.

He laughed. "Don't apologize. I'm feeling the same. I'm going to go talk to Monsieur Barnier once again, and tell him the food was great, too. Lots of sucking up never hurts."

"Sucking up is good," she assured him.

Daniel excused himself and headed over to the man.

Alphonse returned to their table, frowning slightly, the bill in his hand.

"No dessert?" he asked. "We French, you know, we are famous for delicious desserts!"

"No, thank you. I'm tired, and tomorrow we are taking the tour," Jeannette told him.

He set the bill down and she reached for her bag.

"I didn't mean that you must pay—" Alphonse said.

She laughed. "Cousins, remember? We're not dating!" she told him. "Family credit card."

Not really a lie; it was a Blackbird card. And the way they worked, Blackbird was family.

"Oh, that's right. Cousins. You can call on me anytime!"

He collected the card and set his own on the table, grimacing. "Yes, even waiters have cards. You never know who you're going to meet, or if you'll need to be available for future work! Call me if you need suggestions, if you need help with anything!" he told her.

She smiled. "Will do."

Daniel returned to the table but didn't sit. "We've paid?"

"Need the credit card back," she told him.

He laughed softly. "And Alphonse was insulted that you paid and not me?"

"I told him it was a family credit card."

He grinned. "Good. I'll sign and we'll give him a gratuity even if there's already a gratuity. Although...hmm, I'm not sure if he cares if he gets a gratuity from you!"

"Ah, but it will be from you!"

Alphonse returned and Daniel signed the bill—adding on a nice-sized tip despite it already being in the bill.

Accepting the signed check, Alphonse beamed, staring at Daniel. "Seriously, you call me if you need anything. Anything at all." He turned to Jeannette, smiling. "You have my card!"

"I do," she assured him.

They left the restaurant and began the walk back to Delphine Matisse's bed-and-breakfast.

"Now we know all about nasty, elitist people," Daniel murmured. "And still..."

"The girls met on the tour but did a dozen things in the city of Paris. And there are good, nice people in Paris. Considering the size of the city, there are surely nasty, elitist people there, too. Right now—"

"We know nothing. So, let's get some sleep," he suggested. "A nice atmospheric house all to ourselves. Sleep with your gun close, and so will I."

"I always do," she murmured. "I wonder..."

"What?"

"I'm just curious. I mean, it sounds as if Delphine Matisse is almost a saint, but what if she happens to be around tomorrow? Would she know who Gervais LaBlanc is and why he might be coming to pick us up? Does that matter?"

"He won't come in—we'll know when he's on the way and we'll just go out and meet him. I know he handles—or supervises—most of the major cases in Paris, but there are police out here, too. And we're here through the new international division in agreement with the UK, so I doubt if anyone but local law enforcement would have any idea of the real purpose for our visit."

"Everyone knows what has gone on," Jeannette said. "And as Alphonse just said, it apparently isn't keeping people away. Rather, it's drawing them out here."

"While the killing may still take place elsewhere," Daniel murmured.

"I guess we're kind of a weird species," Jeannette murmured. "Strange, LaBlanc was talking about the old Paris morgue today, and now Alphonse has mentioned it. That was then, but this is now."

"Home sweet home—for the night, at least," Daniel murmured.

They had reached their bed-and-breakfast. Daniel unlocked the door and told her, "I'll get our bags out of the car."

"Thanks."

She walked in and thought about the girls. Shelley had stayed here, and she could only imagine how she had felt heading out to see the wine country, then so excited to find friends her age who were also going to be staying in Paris, friends with whom she could enjoy the sights of the renowned city.

Daniel came in with the bags. "You want to check out the rooms and pick one?"

"A bed is a bed," she said with a shrug. "I'm not buying the place. Any room is fine."

He grinned. "Okay, I'll go back."

He left her bag in front of her, grabbed his own, and headed through the entry and parlor toward the rear.

He paused. "Again. I made sure the main door was locked, but...sleep with your bedroom door locked and your gun—"

"Near me and ready. Always," she assured him. "Thanks, Daniel."

"Sure! Hey, first up starts the coffee," he said.

"You're a Brit! No tea?"

He laughed. "Aye, I'm a Brit, a Scot first and...maybe part American! Coffee!"

He disappeared. She dragged her bag to the first room, smiling slightly as she realized it had been a day—just a day. She had arrived early that morning via the private jet Adam Harrison had provided the Blackbird team, met Gervais LaBlanc at the morgue, gone to the bed-and-breakfast, met Shelley, headed to wine country...

A long, long day. She was exhausted and tomorrow would be a long day, too.

She entered the first bedroom and opened her carry-on suitcase; she was extremely proud of the fact she'd learned to carry clothing for a week in the one bag. She smiled, thinking she had done so because of commercial flying. So much easier to just have one carry-on that went with her everywhere than waiting for luggage. Now, of course...

She could bring whatever she wanted on the private jet.

She showered quickly, and remembering Daniel's concerns, kept her gun within reach on the back of the commode right next to the shower as she did so.

Bathing was uneventful. She dressed in a long flannel gown and curled into bed.

Her mind continued to race. They had three bodies drained of blood; a serial killer was at work. But what were they dealing with?

Her new partner wasn't half bad, despite having just met that morning.

And they seemed to be working out well enough. She had to admit she was glad he was fluent—or close to fluent—in French. And they could both pass for being very young. Maybe even vulnerable.

If needed, she could be bait. And Daniel...

He could slide into just about any group with his easy, friendly manner, his charming brogue, his...charisma?

He was fine. She was still looking forward to the arrival of the rest of the Krewe. They were here, she reminded herself, here—or not far, anyway! They were working at the Paris house, and she had worked once with Mason, so...

Strange. They were all Krewe for a reason, their unique abilities. She knew Daniel's father had been murdered, which had made him want to be in law enforcement.

And yet, she and Daniel hadn't really had a chance to talk about that all day. And tomorrow...

They'd surely be thrown out of the country and not just out of the case if they started talking about their need to seek out a dead man or woman who might have seen something that the living hadn't. And still...

She closed her eyes and willed sleep to come. It was elusive.

It was critical they be at their best come the morning! And somewhere, sometime, during the day...

She smiled. She would get to know Daniel better and...

It hurt. It always hurt, still, after so many years...

But if she and Daniel were going to be partners...

Maybe she'd need to tell him her own story.

Coffee!

Stepping out, dressed as a tourist and ready for the day, Daniel smelled the coffee the minute he opened his door. Jeannette was an early riser; most importantly, she was someone who made a point of pushing the button on the coffeepot immediately.

She was in the kitchen sipping a cup when he entered.

"Wow, thank you, fantastic!" he said, heading for the pot.

"What?" Jeannette asked.

"You brewed the coffee!"

"I thought that you did. I'll bet it's on a timer. I'm sorry. Darn," Jeannette said, grinning. "I should have taken credit. I thought you woke up and came out here and started it."

He laughed. "I'll still give you the credit. I walked out here—and there was coffee. Well, okay, realistically, Delphine Matisse must have been here to check out the condition of her property before we came in and set it up for her arriving guests," Daniel said. He shrugged. "I've heard that our spirit friends can gain the power to do little things...like push a brew button, but I've not heard of them managing to take a bag of coffee out of a cupboard and get it going into a pot."

"Ah! That's right, Madame Matisse was here," Jeannette murmured.

"Nice hostess," Daniel agreed, taking out his phone. "Giving Mason a call, see if they checked anything out last night." He shook his head. "They probably divided up and tried a few places, but..."

"You don't see how staking out the Louvre or Notre Dame is going to get us anywhere?"

He shrugged. "Always good to follow the steps of those you're researching," he murmured.

"Daniel." He heard Mason's voice at the other end of the call.

"Aye, Mason, putting the phone on speaker. In the kitchen here with Jeannette, ready for Gervais's arrival."

"He should be any minute," Mason told him. "Anything—"

"We had a great waiter last night, one who told us how great Madame Matisse is as a person, good to locals, the owner of a family vineyard and owner of this B&B. He also gave us names of a few people he considered to be monsters—"

"As in monsters who are known to kill?" Mason asked.

"No, monsters who are known to be elitist jerks, rude and cruel to their employees—and who demand everything in the world and don't add a single euro for an extra tip."

"Get all the names to Angela in New York and—"

"My people in Scotland?" Daniel suggested. "They're good, too."

"I never meant to imply anything but," Mason assured him. "Well, hopefully, you'll discover something else today with Gervais or on the tour."

"What about you?"

"We tried out a couple of the shows the girls went to," Mason told him. "We're checking on all the cast members, crew, et cetera, on them. But..."

"Nothing that screams blood-thieving vampiric monsters?" Daniel asked dryly.

"No. But according to Shelley, they went to many venues together while they were in Paris. They were excited, they tried to cram everything into the days that they had. But again, we're also getting lists of attendees for the nights the girls were there. All sales were credit card, so..."

"You will have a hell of a lot of people to sift through," Daniel said.

"Exactly."

"Hey!" Jeannette said suddenly. "I heard a car—Gervais is out there."

"All right, go," Mason said. "Keep communication lines open. We are going to split today, get to the Louvre and Notre Dame and watch to see if anyone has an eye out scanning the crowds for victims. I'm not hopeful, but we're covering all bases, and we'll head to a few more shows tonight."

"Right. I'll call back later."

Daniel ended the call and followed Jeannette out to the car where Gervais was waiting for them in the driver's seat.

"I'll take the back seat. I'll text those names we got last night to Angela—"

"I'll do it because I can double it to our people with the National Crime Agency," Daniel told her.

"Oh, okay," Jeannette said. She slid in next to Gervais while he chose the seat behind the driver.

"Bonjour," Gervais told them.

"Bonjour!" Jeannette returned, smiling at Gervais. "I know that one!" she assured him.

Gervais laughed softly.

" Alors , here we go!" Gervais told them.

Daniel doubled a message to Krewe headquarters in the States and to his people in Scotland, letting them know they didn't know anything about the vineyard owners except that they were disliked, which, of course, didn't mean anything.

Tomas Deauville...they hadn't gotten his wife's name, but that would be an easy find for their tech teams. Leticia and George Montague. The elitists. And, of course, he added the name of Delphine Matisse. He also thought that he would add the names of those at the restaurant—the manager, Monsieur Damon Barnier, and their informative waiter, Alphonse...

"Jeannette, what is Alphonse's surname? It must be on that card he gave you," Daniel said.

"You made friends here already?" Gervais asked.

"A waiter—one quick to tell us about a few of the smaller family vineyard owners," Jeannette explained to him. "He said that Delphine was great—"

"Indeed," Gervais said, nodding. "Her land borders that on which we found one of the bodies. She gave our forensic team access to her offices and all workspaces when she heard what was going on."

"So, sounds like she is the real deal," Jeannette murmured to him. She turned to look at Daniel. "Alphonse's last name is Monte. I'll shoot a pic of the card and get it to you."

"And to me," Gervais said.

"Of course!"

"Maybe we'll dine at his place again."

But then again...

Whoever was doing this did feel entitled. Maybe that meant they were entitled to end the lives of those they thought to be lesser human beings.

His message sent, he looked out the window. They had left the city of Reims behind and were traveling through countryside that was incredibly picturesque. Fields stretched out endlessly, some flat, some gently rolling. Some appeared to be freshly planted while others were rich with greenery. Now and then, they passed an area that seemed too wild, but just as beautiful with low brush and occasional wildflowers.

Jeannette was watching their drive as well. She murmured, "How beautiful it is out here."

"Yes, the landscape is beautiful," Gervais said. "And then you'll have the tour this afternoon, and you'll see more of the wine country. But also, I do hope you can see some of the wonders of Reims while you're here. It's truly a rich city in its architecture and so much more, Notre-Dame Saint-Jacques, Basilique Saint-Remi, the Palace of Tau... The artwork and history in all are amazing. Rather sad that you have come here and... Well, we all know. We signed up for this, and there are those good days when we save a life. All right...well, the first site is just ahead."

He pulled off the road, explaining, "This little stretch of land belonged to a small family vineyard, but the family died out about five years ago. The distant relatives are in Australia and have never been to France, and they don't want to run a vineyard. The land is up for sale. It's overgrown...but the owners have been negotiating with a few of the neighboring vineyards, and they can't be responsible—as I said, they've never been to France."

Daniel stepped out of the car, looking across the expanse of the field. Those fields that were planted were pristine in their order, no matter what their stage of growth.

This field...

The grass was long, and here and there were large clumps of small trees and bushes. The plants here, far from being any kind of grape or other wine fruit, were bushes, some thicker than others, some low to the ground, some rising higher.

"How long has this been vacant?" Daniel asked Gervais.

"Five, six years," Gervais said, shrugging. "Here, follow me."

A trail had been created of flattened grass and shrubbery, probably from forensic workers searching through the area. He and Jeannette followed Gervais through the recently created path until they came to an area by a small bush.

There were still markers on the ground, perhaps forgotten by the team or perhaps left until the case was closed—one way or another.

"This is where we found Patricia Gutterman, the young lady from Germany," Gervais said. "She was here, lying as if she slept, except...she was pale as snow, her eyes were closed... They called me immediately. The first young lady had already been found, another field just a ways up." He shook his head, looking over at Jeannette. "Then, of course, there was the young lady we saw yesterday morning, just after her completed autopsy."

"And she was found out here," Jeannette murmured. "I can't imagine poor Shelley, how shocked she must have been when a second body was found and identified as one of her new friends as well, and now the third..."

"The girls were all about the same age, and all rather on their own, from what I understand," Daniel said. "I'm wondering if..."

"What?" Jeannette asked.

"It doesn't sound as if they have the kind of families who would immediately demand results, as if they were more or less... Not friendless! I don't mean that at all, but..."

"Murders are often solved more quickly when parents or siblings hound the police day after day?" Gervais asked.

"Sad, but sometimes true. Maybe not even here, but possibly in someone's mind..."

"That implies they are getting to know these girls, that they're not just attacked after leaving a crowd," Gervais said.

"Aye," Daniel murmured. "Whoever did this met Shelley, Patricia and the others and talked with them. The killer is going to be someone Shelley would recognize."

"Quite possibly true," Gervais murmured, and then he frowned. Daniel noted he was watching Jeannette, who had started walking farther back into the wildness of the field.

"Jeannette?" Daniel called. She had walked deep into the field, far from the road.

She paused. But she didn't turn.

She bent down and then stood, looking back at them.

"What is it?" Gervais shouted.

She shook her head sadly. "These murders didn't just start. Please...not sleeping, not pristine. This victim has been here a while."

Daniel ran quickly to Jeannette's position and looked down.

Decayed, rotting material remained.

It covered bones and bits and pieces of dried flesh, long since rotted, long since ravaged by animals and insects.

Daniel closed his eyes for a minute.

Just how many corpses were there to be found in these vineyards, renowned around the world?