Chapter Eight

Eight

M adame Matisse was, indeed, in the house with Gervais.

Since they weren't guests anymore, Daniel decided they should knock at the door.

He glanced at Jeannette, who nodded and gave a few raps on the wood. Madame Matisse was there within seconds, throwing the door open.

"My guests!" she said, arching a brow but smiling as well. "I should have known that my dear friend Gervais would be watching all around. Come in, come in. We were just talking in the parlor. In spite of all else, I do hope you enjoyed your stay here?"

"It's a lovely place," Daniel told her.

"But..." Jeannette began, wincing and hesitating, "you might want to think about your method of cutting keys."

"Oh!" she said, shaking her head. "Sometimes...I'm so busy I forget to make sure I've gotten them back. But from now on, I'll tack on a massive fine in euros—that will, I believe, assure that all my keys will be returned."

"Maybe change the locks, too," Daniel suggested.

"Yes, yes, Gervais told me that someone was in here while you were out. And that you have a man in custody! I am horrified. And he told me you were coming to see me as well as a few others whose lands border the fields where the bodies were found. I wanted to assure him once again that anything of mine is open to him for anything that is needed! This is horrifying, horrifying! Someone using the beauty of our land to dispose of their brutal...psychotic intentions! I'm sorry. I am standing at a door, talking, when you must come back in. I brewed coffee... S'il vous pla?t... I'm not sure what else Gervais needed from me—he did say you would have come to me had I not come here. Of course, he had to tell me about you, but I remain confused. You're an American, Jeannette—though great French name—and you, Monsieur Murray, are a Scot? And you are seeking a French killer?"

"Long story," Daniel murmured.

"Not so long, really. It's a bit like Interpol. We're an offshoot of an American unit, but we're the team that works in Europe, especially when an American might have been a victim—or when an American might be a murderer," Jeannette said.

"And a Scot?"

"We're all international!" Jeannette said pleasantly. "And I would love coffee."

Madame Matisse turned to head back into the house. Gervais was standing by one of the large sofas in the parlor, waiting for them.

"So. We do not need to go to the House of Matisse," he said. "The House of Matisse came to us."

Delphine had headed straight into the kitchen. She had expected them, obviously; but of course, Gervais would have told her he was waiting there for the two of them—and why.

She quickly returned from the kitchen carrying a tray with coffee and all that might be wanted to go with it. She set it on the little table in front of the sofa and busied herself preparing cups that Jeannette handed around until finally they all sat.

"I was hoping Delphine might know if any of her employees had been behaving strangely lately, if any were new..."

Delphine was shaking her head.

"I swear to you! No one from the House of Matisse is doing this! I have no new employees. My people have been with me for years. Of course, I have seen to it that Gervais has received every one of their names along with copies of their IDs. When my husband was alive, he wasn't against helping someone who had gotten into minor trouble—if they were honest and really on the mend. He was such a good man and wanted to help people," Delphine assured them, smiling sadly. "But! He was no fool He wanted every piece of information on them. As it stands, we have only one employee currently who has any kind of record regarding an arrest. That is Sonia Garcia, from Spain, and she was caught at the age of twenty-one with drugs, did her stint in rehab and has been a model employee ever since—she was born in Madrid but is a French citizen now. My people have been with me forever—even those who come to clean and watch out for this place. Two maids rotate, and they've both been with me for over twenty years," she finished. Her shoulders lifted and fell as she shook her head. "Again, you're welcome to tear apart anything near my winery—or at my winery—if it will help."

"Thank you, Delphine," Gervais said sincerely. "And thank you for driving over here! Isn't there an afternoon tour today? I know how you love to be the one to welcome people to the winery, giving it all a wonderful, personal touch!"

She laughed softly. "Well, I managed to snag my son for one afternoon. I keep thinking he'll come around. Oh, I don't believe he'll sell it after I'm gone. However, he has no interest in running it, but I do keep hoping! He has his own work and he loves it, so..."

"We'd love to meet him," Daniel told her.

A son. Another person of interest?

"Well, we will arrange it!" Delphine said, rising. She smiled at Daniel and Jeannette as they rose as well.

"You should be seeing us out," Gervais told her. "These two are sleeping in Paris tonight."

"Oh, yes, your keys, and I should lock you out. No, in this instance, you keep the keys. The rooms do lock, you know. Because sometimes they are rented to two different parties. But... I don't know. After this...maybe I'll just stop renting it out. But...it's a great location and I don't want to get rid of it. When it just sits there... Sorry! That's a whole different decision!"

"The coffee service—" Jeannette began, but Delphine quickly interrupted her.

"Not to worry. I pay well—it will be picked up in the morning. I know you have a few other destinations, and I don't know why you must drive back tonight—" She broke off abruptly. "Of course, I do. These horrible things that are happening. I'm sorry. Do find me anytime you need me, anytime. I can try to help with anything at all!"

"Thank you, most sincerely," Gervais said.

Jeannette smiled at her, taking her hand. "Merci. Merci beaucoup," she told her.

Delphine nodded and smiled. Daniel echoed the words.

Then they exited the house with Delphine locking up behind them all.

They let her drive out first.

"Well, we've got two cars, but I'll drive," Gervais told them. "I know this terrain best. Two quick stops. Places you now know. The House of Deauville and the House of Montague."

"Have you told them we're coming?" Jeannette asked him.

"Yes. We will first go out to the Deauville winery," Gervais told them.

"Charming," Jeannette murmured.

Daniel looked at her. She made a face before arching a brow at him, giving him his choice of the seats in the car. He nodded, grinning in return and indicating she should take the front seat next to Gervais.

They were quickly on the road.

"So, you met Monsieur and Madame Deauville this morning?" he queried.

"Oh, yes, charming!" Jeannette said. "She was charming—too charming. She and her husband both noted our trio of young single women and made a point of asking them to return."

"Madame does have a reputation for being quite the...virago with her servants and just the opposite with guests when she feels as if she's performing on stage," Gervais said. "I believe you have that in the States as well—and even Scotland—very rich people with old money who have one face when publicity is concerned and quite another when it comes to those they see as beneath them, people who consider themselves..."

"A wee bit above all others?" Daniel asked. "They are everywhere. Just as people almost as good as Mother Teresa might exist anywhere. We are the human family, for all the good and bad."

"But bad aspects can become part of a norm," Jeannette murmured.

There was something about the way she said the words. He wondered about her past assignments. Of course, she was too young to have accrued too many, but...

One case could play havoc with the soul and psyche.

"They are expecting us and they know why we're coming," Gervais warned them. "They don't have much respect for law enforcement."

That was proven when they arrived. Giselle and Tomas Deauville must have been waiting for them. When Gervais drove up to the house, the door opened and the two stepped out.

"I guess we're not being invited in," Daniel murmured.

"We're not young and cute," Jeannette said.

"Yeah we are!" Daniel teased in return.

"You are both just adorable," Gervais muttered, shaking his head. "But..."

"But we're not vulnerable-looking girls who might fit the bill," Daniel said.

"Ah, well, Jeannette might look perfect under the right circumstances," Gervais said. "But in this case..."

"At least you are punctual!" Tomas Deauville snapped as they walked from the car to where he stood with Giselle before the house. He stared hard at Daniel and Jeannette. "Who are these people, and why are they back here with you?" he demanded.

"Monsieur Deauville, Madame, these people are Special Agents LaFarge and Murray. They are with an international team of law enforcement and are experts at cases such as the one we are facing now."

"If they're such experts, why are there so many bodies?" Giselle demanded.

Daniel started to answer, but Gervais had been prepared for the question.

"I asked them in after the bodies were discovered. And we're here—"

"Yes, yes, and I will keep speaking English for these two!" Tomas snapped. "You found a body or bodies on land that borders mine. But you cannot be such a fool as to believe—"

"Oh, sir, we are not here to accuse you of anything!" Jeannette said sweetly. "We know that you're the most knowledgeable person regarding the area, regarding anyone who might work out here! Perhaps there is someone who has given you trouble, who has behaved suspiciously, who has a bone to pick with any of the wineries in the area, especially those, like you, who own the small family estates who still produce the finest quality!"

Jeannette knew how to play it—how to speak to people like Tomas and Giselle Deauville. She was charming and more, putting the right reverence into her voice to address such fine and amazing people.

Giselle almost smiled at her before turning to her husband. "Je pense..."

"English, my love," Tomas said, nodding in Jeannette's direction. "But I know what you're about to say." He looked at Daniel, Jeannette and Gervais. "There was a man working for us. The rest of our employees have been with us forever, most from back in my father's day. But this man came to us from the House of Montague. He is a big man, very strong, able to move heavy casks easily. He worked with precision. He came every day, and then he was gone."

"What is his name?" Gervais asked.

"Aristide Broussard," Giselle told them. "He was happy here, we believed. Though, of course, I understand that..."

"He was fired from the House of Montague," Tomas said. "I was in need when he came here and he said that he was sorry—he'd snapped when Leticia had yelled at him. I have seen Leticia in action, so... I thought I should give him a chance."

"But we believe he must have gone on somewhere else. He just didn't show up for work one day," Giselle told them. Then she turned to study Daniel and Jeannette again. "So, you came on the tour. You were, as they say in American gangster movies, casing the joint ?"

Jeannette laughed softly and Daniel smiled.

"We truly wanted to take the tour. It is touted as the best," he assured her. "But beyond that, we picked the tour purposely this morning, yes, because we would see the smaller houses and those bordering fields where the dead have been found."

"Honesty," Giselle said. "That is appreciated."

"I don't know," Tomas murmured. "This man... Aristide. He was needy—he had no money. But he seemed to be a very decent man."

"We expect the best out of our people," Giselle said. "That is the only way to create the very best product. But..."

"We aren't as..." Tomas started to say.

"You don't run around screaming like Leticia?" Gervais asked flatly.

"We aren't screamers," Tomas said. "Our people know. Too many marks against you—and you're gone. But as I said, our people have been here with us forever. Now, if that is all, we have welcomed two tours here today and we'd like some time alone."

"Of course, thank you. And you know how to reach me should you think of anything, anything at all," Gervais said.

The Deauville couple gave them all a curt and serious nod and turned to enter their home.

Daniel, Jeannette and Gervais returned to the car.

"One to go," Gervais muttered. "I saved the best for last."

"The best, the worst, however one chooses to see it!" Jeannette said. "What do you think about this man they're talking about—Aristide Broussard?"

"I think we need to find him," Gervais said.

"I'm calling our people to see if they can find any kind of a trail on the internet," Daniel murmured. He started to call his old station and then smiled to himself. He was Blackbird now, part of the Krewe of Hunters.

He dialed the Krewe number.

As usual, he was answered on the first ring, which surprised him when he realized that it was early evening here, and therefore it was late in the States.

It was Angela Hawkins who answered him. He had yet to meet her other than via video calls, but he was a bit in awe. She was Jackson Crow's wife and second-in-command. She was something of a magician, so it seemed, as she was balancing a job that often encompassed all hours along with a family—and pets!

"I'm sorry, I just realized the time for you—"

"Not to worry. I would have let the night team take it if I weren't ready to help."

He explained the situation and apologized again. Gervais surely had people, too. They were good at their jobs. In fact, Gervais's people had done the research on the victims and were still seeking IDs on those they didn't know.

But Angela cheerfully assured him that they'd get right on researching the name—and she would be back with him that night. She also told him they were sharing across the Atlantic.

"You never know when a discovery in one place might trigger another across the pond," she told him. "I'll get back with you."

"All right, we have great people on tech in general," he murmured, ending the call. "But I do believe Angela is the best of the best."

"She is," Jeannette agreed.

"My people—" Gervais began.

"Are talented and wonderful, too, and thank God for that!" Daniel said quickly. "We need everyone on this."

"And so we do," Gervais said. "And here we are, just ahead...the House of Montague."

Gervais drove safely but fast, and they were indeed approaching the Montague estate.

Leticia Montague and her husband were not standing outside waiting for them. In fact, when they knocked at the door, they were ignored. At last, a maid came to the door and said she had informed monsieur and madame that LaBlanc had arrived. They had told her that LaBlanc would just have to wait.

Gervais smiled for the maid.

"That is fine. We are at their convenience."

They stood outside and waited. Daniel found himself watching Jeannette as she studied both the house and the endless fields that seemed to stretch from it.

The land was also dotted with outbuildings, work buildings, and there was even an old barn attached to the property.

Finally, Leticia and George Montague appeared at the door.

They were not invited in.

And Leticia let them have it immediately, starting her tirade in French and switching to English as she stared at Jeannette with narrowed eyes.

"This is the greatest offense! You have dead bodies—so you come here? How dare you accuse us of having anything to do with the death of these girls. We are law-abiding citizens, we pay the taxes that allow for your salary, and this is ridiculous among other things that you dare to come here making it appear to others that there is a reason! Talk quickly! Tell him, George, that we are offended to the ends of the earth!" she snapped.

"I'm so sorry," Jeannette said sweetly. "So very sorry you are so easily offended! The police have come to you for help, not to make accusations!" she said.

For a moment, it seemed the woman was confused by Jeannette's words, not at all sure whether to be further offended or simply to go with the words that suggested she could help.

"I don't know why you're here," she said simply. "Because bodies are found in fields that border ours? That's ridiculous. How could we know anything? You didn't even know anything. I understand that a body might have been there for months!"

"Because the bodies have been left out here, we were hoping you might know of someone who has visited or someone who has been an employee who might have been involved," Gervais told her, his tone level and easy. "This is extremely sad, and it is bad for the wine region, bad for Paris and exceptionally bad for the young ladies who have been murdered. We are seeking any little iota of help we might get."

"Leticia," George said, determined then to do the speaking. "Monsieur, what is it that you would like to ask us? You mean, do we have any strange employees, have we had visitors... Well, on visitors, I cannot tell you. We have so many! Two tours are given several days during the week, depending on the season. But I don't believe I've seen anything that would suggest someone was a murderer."

"I understand you had one employee you fired a few months ago," Daniel said.

"Just what are you doing here? You're not French!" she snapped at him.

"They are with an international law enforcement agency," Gervais said simply. "Special Agents Murray and LaFarge."

"Sneaks! Slimy snakes, coming on the tour—then accusing us of murder!" Leticia snapped.

"We are not accusing you of anything. We are asking for help," Jeannette reminded her. "And we did hear you fired a man. Aristide Broussard. Can you tell us why?"

"Because he was a horrible employee!" Leticia said. "I would give him an order, and he would refuse to carry it out. Lazy wretch!" She shook her head. "I hear that fool, Deauville, gave him a job. And then he walked out on Deauville. I told you—he was a horrid employee!"

"Was he violent in any way? I understand he was a big man," Gervais said.

Leticia and George looked at one another and shook their heads. "No. He was just... He was like a big lump. He didn't work," George said. "But...he has disappeared, from what I understand. Perhaps you should be looking for him."

"Is there anything or anyone else—"

"You should see Delphine Matisse!" Leticia snapped. " Madame Smile —you mark my words, her smile is a lie! Talk to her. I wouldn't doubt that she was dragging people out into the fields for their blood. The woman is obsessed with herself. She's too old. She wants another child. Someone who will want to take over the vineyard and love it the way she does. Maybe killing young women makes her think she can steal their youth. Don't accuse us—"

"You do have quite a temper, snapping at your help," Jeannette said thoughtfully.

Leticia frowned fiercely. "No. I mean, things must be proper and people must learn. And we just like everyone to enjoy our hospitality."

"We are happy to host those who love the vineyard!" George said, annoyed. "It is excellent publicity for us when someone especially appreciates our vineyard. And speaking of young women...they are on social media. Tons and tons of it. They do so much for us."

"I would so hate to see anything happen to them!" Jeannette said, her tone still just as sweet.

Daniel lowered his head as he tried not to smile. There was still a warning in her words, no matter how pleasantly they were spoken.

Leticia looked as if she wanted to snap back at Jeannette. If Jeannette had been an employee, she'd have been fired.

But she wasn't an employee.

Still, in Leticia's world, Jeannette was beneath her.

She waved a hand in the air. "Don't come back here!" she warned.

"Hmm. I'm rather fond of social media, too," Jeannette told her, still maintaining her pleasant tone and a sweet smile.

George stepped in. "Honestly, monsieur," he said, making a point of addressing Gervais and pretending Daniel and Jeannette weren't even there, "there is only the one employee. And while I saw no violence in the man, I don't suppose such a murderer displays his intentions when he is out and about in the world. If I were you, monsieur, I would find him."

"We will make every effort to do that," Gervais assured him.

"Thank you so much for your time!" Jeannette said.

The two turned and headed back into their house, slamming the door with finality.

"That was fun," Daniel noted.

"Then again, the woman is practically a demon," Gervais said. "But it doesn't mean she finds young women to murder."

"No, and if I remember clearly, it was at the Deauville winery where the couple really showed an interest in the girls, but I suppose I am suspicious of everyone, including Delphine Matisse. She told the girls when they came back that they must stay at her bed-and-breakfast," Jeannette said.

"Let's hope we get more when we get back to Paris," Gervais said wearily. "I will get you to your car and see you—" he paused, shrugging and grinning "—back at the ranch! That is an American expression, is it not?"

"It is," Jeannette assured him, smiling.

They were quiet as Gervais drove, all deep in thought. Daniel noted his phone pinging, and he quickly looked at the message that was coming in.

It was from Angela.

She had found what information there was to be had on Aristide Broussard. Born in Paris, orphaned at the age of five, he'd grown up in a group home. He had been an average student, had not been able to afford to go on to a university or college, and had worked in restaurants before finding his job in the vineyards. He had no record.

He didn't even have parking tickets, and he did own a vehicle—a ten-year-old economy car. There was nothing to suggest he had been violent at any stage in his life. He'd been an able soccer player in school until a knee injury had sidelined any future in that respect.

He read aloud so Jeannette and Gervais could hear him. The ending of the message was worrisome.

"He hasn't used his phone in the last several days, and it goes straight to voice mail when called," Daniel said. "His credit cards haven't been used in a week."

"Perpetrator? Or victim?" Jeannette asked softly.

"None of the victims have been male," Gervais reminded her.

"Thus far," Jeannette said quietly.

They had reached the Matisse bed-and-breakfast. "Back at the ranch," Gervais repeated, smiling as he let them out.

"We'll be going straight there," Daniel promised.

They headed to their car and followed Gervais out.

It was a long drive back, and Daniel didn't intend to follow Gervais all the way. There was traffic through Reims and he knew it would get busier as they neared Paris.

He glanced at Jeannette as he drove, noting once again how she could easily pass for a beautiful young woman just out of college and happily off on a dream trip. But maybe she wasn't going to need to play that part. He knew if she did...

They had only known one another for days. Being attracted to her made lots of sense—she was stunning—but his past typically made emotional attachment difficult. Her face might have been sculpted by Michelangelo, her eyes so quickly flashed humor and empathy, and her smile was purely seductive and engaging.

He winced inwardly. He wasn't good at relationships, and it was his own fault. He had recently enjoyed the company of a young woman he met on their last case in Edinburgh.

He had been the one to step back. It was his own...weirdness.

His "talent" or his "curse."

But Jeannette is an old hand at the spirit business; she doesn't think I'm crazy. She sees the dead, too. She's carried on conversations and...

"What are you thinking?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "We are nowhere. We've met nice people and nasty people, and we've seen them in action. But the fact that a few of these people are elitists doesn't mean they're capable of murder, though..."

"What?"

"I get the feeling that to people like the Deauville and Montague couples, the death of someone not in their financial or social strata might be as meaningless as the squashing of a bug. And that brings me back to..."

He smiled, looking ahead. "You keep thinking about the crimes—or the setup—of Elizabeth Báthory."

She nodded. "On the one hand, she had incredible power. And back then, anyone suspected of witchcraft was burned alive, theft might result in a hand being chopped off—minor infractions were legally handled on a local level. There are a number of reports regarding her merciless beating of a servant who pulled her hair while brushing it... And the woman had a lot going for and against her from birth. I mean the inbreeding in that family—a line of Báthory for her mother, another line of Báthory for her father. Oh, and medical experts now believe she suffered from epilepsy, a disease not understood, which might indicate to some back then that she was in league with the devil when she had her fits. Then there's her husband—Ferenc Nádasdy. He was a heroic warrior, but there are rumors that when she was very young, Elizabeth had an affair with someone not of the gentry. Supposedly, Nádasdy kept his promise of marriage, but he had the man cut to ribbons, castrated and fed to hungry dogs while still alive. And on the battlefield...he tortured his enemies before putting them to death. He was a sadist when it came to any prisoner of war. Rumors regarding Elizabeth's murders rose after his death, but those who believe in her guilt also believe that the torture and murder of young women began while he was alive. Violence was a fact of life. There were constantly wars going on between the Calvinists, Catholics and Turks, and they were horrible from the get-go, but..."

"So, she was guilty," Daniel said.

Jeannette shrugged. "I don't know. There's another school of thought. After her husband's death, Elizabeth was extremely rich and powerful. Matthias, then king of Hungary, owed a tremendous debt to the family. He called upon Elizabeth's cousin, Gy?rgy Thurzó, then count palatine of Hungary, to investigate. There was a trial and her accomplices , those servants who supposedly aided her in her regime of torture and murder, were brought in. They stood trial and there were depositions from those on Báthory estates and the surrounding areas that declared Elizabeth and her servants guilty of six hundred murders. Elizabeth wasn't allowed at the trial, and she was not allowed to defend herself. Three of her servants were executed. The family was allowed to manage her incarceration in exchange for a cancellation of the debt that Matthias owed. She was kept prisoner in ?achtice Castle—Hungary at the time, Slovakia now—until her death. So...even then!" She paused, looking over at Daniel. "Was she an inbred elitist who could be cruel but was set up by others, or a horrendous murderer of six hundred or more young women?"

"You think one of our vineyard couples—George and Leticia Montague or Giselle and Tomas Deauville—might be thinking they're Nádasdy and Elizabeth?"

She shook her head. "Is that ridiculous? Especially with all the speculation these days among scholars that Elizabeth might have been set up?"

"It doesn't matter what happened—it matters what people think happened," Daniel told her. "I'm truly impressed with your knowledge of history. Many people know about the woman, the Blood Countess , but you have your facts and figures."

"I majored in criminology. I had a great professor in my senior year. He believes that no matter how much technology comes into the world, human beings are human beings. And while we supposedly progress, we are still ruled by human factors, both mentally and physically. We can improve our biology by doing the right things, but we will still be born with mental defects and/or factors in our lives—abuse, poverty, et cetera—which will continue to haunt the mind. He believed that studying the past was incredibly important in understanding the present and the future."

"Sounds like a great class."

"It was," Jeannette assured him. "So, I can't get that strange history out of my mind—and we're in France, not Hungary, Slovakia or Transylvania. But I can't stop the feeling that someone here is pulling the strings and has accomplices or servants helping them. And who has that kind of money and influence? Vineyard owners."

"I understand that. Still, there could just be a sick cult around here somewhere using blood for rituals. We need to keep an open mind."

"I know that," she told him. She glanced in his direction again, wincing. "That was my last assignment—I went undercover to take down a cult."

"And you took it down?"

She nodded.

"That's impressive!"

"I admit, it was a situation that was in some ways like what we're looking at here. Except they were taking blood from anyone. Corpses were found in the Blue Ridge Mountains. No blood. Police first spoke with a minister who pretended to be horrified. They discovered he became a minister online—not to infer in any way that there aren't very good people who do that. Anyway, statistics proved his church—a cabin on his private property—was dead center of where the corpses were discovered. I was sent in as the daughter of a fellow who had been the owner of property nearby and had just passed away. And..." She looked at him again, giving him something between a smile and a grimace. "And I got lucky. Mr. Nathaniel Murphy was hanging around, horrified by what had been going on. With him, I was able to bring more Krewe members in before they were about to have another sacrifice. Their thing was that they were saving their victims' immortal souls with their ritual. But..."

"This doesn't strike you as the same thing."

"No. Of course, I could be wrong—"

"We're on our way back to Paris, lass. We'll be meeting with the troops. We'll have more to go on and we'll have more to give them," Daniel told her. "I didn't get to work in the United States with the Krewe of Hunters the way that you did," he told her. "But there is something I learned working with Blackbird in Scotland—we don't stop. We go on until we find the truth."

She smiled, nodding, looking down.

"And," he reminded her, "thanks to you, we have some of that help you were referring to before."

She looked over at him again but he didn't turn to her. They were closing in on Paris, and the traffic was growing heavy, even though it was long after any kind of rush hour.

"Henriette Beaumont, our spirit who is seeking friends and watching to see what she can see," Daniel said. "Remember? The lovely lady we met because you thought we should check out the cemetery near the magic show."

"Right. And okay! Yes, we're just getting back to Paris, and there's a lot we need to do here, but I want to get out to those fields again—alone. Just us, just us and our team and see if... Well, many of those vineyards have been there for hundreds of years. There may be someone hanging around who could help?" she said hopefully.

"We'll get back out there. And see what else might be found in the fields. And maybe when this thing is solved—"

"We could visit a few of the wonders of Reims?" she asked.

"Architecture, history, churches!" he agreed. "Just no more wine!"

She laughed at that. "No more wine."

Their phones were chiming. He gave a little nod; whatever was coming through was coming through to them both.

He waited and Jeannette quickly pulled out her phone and looked at the message they were receiving.

"Gervais," she told him. She was smiling as she looked down at the phone. "He wants to make sure we remember where the house is located, and we need to head there. And he's had his people add supplies. He wants us to be aware the house is complete with a standing bulletin board, computers, police access, kitchen—lots of coffee—and more. If you don't remember where, I'll program in the address."

Daniel laughed softly. "I remember where. It's great having a place where we can both work and sleep. We're ready to talk at any time, share information, brainstorm. With coffee."

Jeannette laughed. "It is nice. Yes, Gervais has done well for us. Numeric entry, security cameras everywhere, alarms everywhere. We key in at the gate, bring the car through and park in front, different key-in code for the front door."

"Gervais is a damned good bloke. He's competent—and I think he asked Blackbird in because, for one, he's already worked with the others!" Daniel said. "And I think he's smart enough to realize that at times, he may be too close to people and even to these cities to have the open mind others might have when investigating here."

"He is a good guy. But as you said, he asked us to come. That's another important lesson that not everyone wants to heed—learn to ask for help if it's out there and you need it."

"Agreed on that! And there's nothing like a great team."

"Absolutely nothing like a Blackbird team," she told him quietly. "We all went through half of our lives believing we were...weird. We were warned never to say anything to anybody lest we wind up in mental facilities. We had parents who cared about us, some not knowing, some knowing full well because a few of our scientific minds believe one day they'll discover this ability is a rare thing that is carried genetically and... Well, anyway! We're lucky. And you're luckier than most! You came into full bloom with your talent with Blackbird!"

"Oh, so true. So true!" he agreed. "And now..."

"Now?"

He grinned at her. "Now I may find myself visiting a lot of cemeteries so I can find some ancestors. Aye, I know it doesn't work on command, and maybe it works for us when it's necessary, but...I am grateful!"

"Speaking of cemeteries—we are supposed to go back to the cemetery tonight and find Henriette by the statue of St. Michael."

"And we will. We'll get to headquarters first, find out anything else that might have been discovered and then we'll go to the cemetery. And, hopefully..."

He was stopped at a light when he felt his phone buzzing again.

"I've got it!" Jeannette assured him. She glanced over at Daniel. "This time it's Mason."

"And?"

"We almost had a break in the case!" she told him.

"Almost?"

"Video surveillance picked up Claude Chirac escorting one of the girls to a van."

"So, how is that almost? He's obviously guilty—"

"Of escorting her to a van. But here's the almost ," Jeannette said. "Chirac managed to commit suicide in holding. He might have been guilty, but the man was more afraid of someone out there than he was of a sentence in a French prison."