Caper at the Chateau
What better to enhance a memorable vacation than a robbery investigation? Had it only been a brief investigation all would have been salvageable...but no. The inspector opened the door to a series of unexpected events that would define the vacation of a lifetime.
Introduction
Whether for a weekend or a week, vacations provide a much needed break. A trip to the beach or the mountains or to lands afar can provide a life-changing interlude.
If you've vacationed in a country where you don’t speak the language, you know how unsettling it can be to resort to the use of strange facial expressions and charade tactics to communicate. It’s exciting to discover other cultures and to hear other languages spoken, but unfamiliarity sometimes tends to throw you off your game. The traveler is an observer, an outsider, and more so in a foreign land.
If you haven’t experienced culture shock or the helplessness that accompanies being unable to communicate verbally, travel with Jix Haynes, aka The Trunk Doctor, her husband Bill, and their friends Austin and Abby Gayle Kamp to Paris in Caper at the Chateau. If you are a seasoned global traveler, perhaps you’ll sense the underlying, undefined tone of an astronaut spacewalking outside a spacecraft beyond the earth’s appreciable atmosphere experienced by our travelers in this story.
As our tale begins, the Haynes and the Kamps are completing a three-week dream vacation in Paris. The novelty of living out of a suitcase and staying constantly on the go has long since worn thin. They are anxious to get back to small town America.
So far, the trip has been typical tourist-type fare. The Americans have lucked out by being paired with François Fabron, an extraordinary travel agent who has not only soothed travel woes but has also become a friend and a confidant.
The grande finale of the Paris tour was a restful stay at a French chateau in the Loire Valley. As our story begins, departure is at hand. The tour group is counting the minutes until they board a vintage French van to be whisked away to the gare where they will board a train to Paris. A celebratory dinner on their last night in the City of Light, and then the two American couples will take an early morning flight home.
That was François’ plan. However, a man with a huge ego overshadowing his small stature had other plans. Inspector Henri l'Oiseau lost no time concluding that one or more persons in François Fabron’s tour group had emptied a safe at Chateau de Fontigneux of a small fortune in jewels. On the morning of departure day, and the same day as the robbery occurred, François’ group had toured the stately Chateau. The little French detective hurried to prevent the tourists from leaving the area before he had thoroughly interrogated each.
What better to enhance a memorable vacation than a robbery investigation? Had it only been a brief investigation all would have been salvageable...but no. The inspector opened the door to a series of unexpected events that would define the vacation of a lifetime.
No passport required. Hop aboard and off you go to explore Caper at the Chateau. Bon voyage! Sara McFerrin
FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter One
Inspector Henri l’Oiseau peered over gold, wire-rimmed glasses, snuggly perched on the tip of his aquiline nose, at a small band of tourists he’d summoned to the salon of Chateau de Beaumontfort.
It was 1990, and the wear caused by the combined efforts of nature and time had long since exceeded available funds to adequately maintain the grand old hunting lodge completed in 1752. Even so, the chateau offered a clean—not necessarily comfortable—bed, and a continental breakfast to tourists drawn to the historic Loire Valley region of France.
Speaking with a thick accent, the somber, snowy-haired Frenchman addressed members of the tour group and their guide, “Messieurs, dames, I’ave called you ’ere on a matter most urgent!”
Inspector l’Oiseau lifted thick, black eyebrows and leveled a steely, blue-eyed gaze on the innkeeper. Forty-something, with flamingo-like legs and neck, the woman leaned against the doorframe, her skinny arms crossed.
The inspector continued, “Your hostess, Mademoiselle Marie-Pierre, tells me you visited Chateau de Fontigneux earlier today. Is this correct?”
Although l’Oiseau’s question was intended for everyone present, he spoke directly to François Fabron, travel guide and spokesman for four couples, some perched on faded silk settees, and others seated in tub chairs with carved gooseneck arms.
The splendid, ancient salon radiated an air of grandeur with its opened ceiling, exposing a mahogany-railed, second-floor library with book-laden, wall-to-wall shelves. The pièce de résistance, a narrow, spiral staircase, snaked its way from the salon below to the lofty library. Clarisse’s feline paws dangled off the top step as she catnapped unfazed by activity at the foot of the stairs.
With a slight bow, tall, suave François nervously pinched his mustache with his thumb and index finger. When he’d rested his hands on his hips, he replied in nearly flawless English, “Oui. I believe we were the first group to tour at eight this morning.”
Three American couples and one British couple, under the auspices of Monsieur Fabron, readily confirmed that he and his entourage, along with two English women staying at Chateau Beaumontfort, had indeed toured the magnificent Chateau Fontigneux, located no more than a mile away.
François explained to the inspector that a visit to the grand chateau had concluded their three-night bed and breakfast stay in the Loire Valley. Next on their itinerary was a return trip to Paris on the three o’clock train. They had eaten breakfast and planned to leave for the station in less than an hour.
“It is not possible!” l’Oiseau shocked the travelers with his untimely response. “Do not leave Chateau de Beaumontfort. I must question everyone concerning a robbery at Chateau de Fontigneux.”
American tourist Bill Haynes heard a moan slip past his lips. He, his wife Jix, and their friends, Austin and Abby Gayle Kamp, had been gone from home for sixteen days. He’d seen the Eiffel Tower, cruised the Seine, strolled Monet’s gardens, spent an entire day in the Louvre where he’d pondered Mona Lisa’s ambiguous smile. Regardless of many once-in-a-lifetime experiences, Bill was ready to go home. Each day, he longed more than the day before to see his two-year-old granddaughter Dinah. However, homesick or not, he certainly had no desire to be involved in a robbery investigation.
4
Contrary to Bill’s response, Jix and her best friend Abby Gayle responded to the inspector’s news like a hungry dog with a bone.
Jix Haynes inquired, “Robbery? What time did this occur?”
“What was taken?” Abby Gayle Kamp asked.
The inspector, welcoming an opportunity to assert his authority, replied, “It is for me to know and
for you to discover, Madame. We will speak privately with each of you.” He patted his pockets. “Ma pepper, where is ma pepper?”
Quickly locating the misplaced paper, he unfolded it and scanned a registry of Chateau Beaumontfort’s guests, focusing on highlighted names of those in Fabron’s group. With a stubby finger, he randomly stabbed the paper and said, “Kerin Apsley, Canterbury, England. You are first, and afterward your wife.” After a closer review of the list, he added, “Madame Chelsea Apsley.” Everyone else was instructed to return to his or her room or wait wherever they chose until summoned.
Plans or missed connections not easily rescheduled prompted strong objections from the distraught detainees. François passionately pleaded their case only to be told there would be other trains to Paris.
When it became obvious that no one present would be on the three o’clock train, the innkeeper unfolded her lanky, six-foot frame and suggested her guests wait in the orangery. Attempting to smooth ruffled feathers, Marie-Pierre offered to serve tea or wine and hot, buttery, shell-shaped madeleines— those wonderful, petite tea cakes that stir childhood memories of heavenly kitchen smells and toothsome bites from an age when cooking was simple and flavors were bold.
“Ah, la madeleine de Proust,” François closed his eyes to relive his mother dusting cardamom sugar on a few madeleines to set aside for him. The hassle of rescheduling transportation to return disgruntled travelers in his care to Paris was no less, but for the moment, sweet memories softened the aggravation.
The orangery—originally used to store plants in winter—had evolved over two centuries to become an oasis, of sorts, for people as well as greenery. Tropical plants, citrus trees, orchids, and a plethora of vegetation and exotic shrubs basked in sunlight streaming through a glass paneled roof lantern and a wall of tall windows stretching along the sunny, southeast side of the chateau. Controlled humidity infused with sweet fragrances of orange blossoms and heirloom roses permeated the orangery.
Anchored to a giant philodendron, a huge garden snail, shouldering its glossy shell accentuated with brown, spiral bands, risked being detected by the gardener’s keen eye.
The Americans tended to flock together; Kerin and Chelsea Apsley preferred sharing common interests with fellow Brits, Emmaline Tomes and Phoebe Taylor. On the plus side of middle age, the widowed women, who’d been friends for decades, both had birthdays on the fifteenth of May. For the past twelve years—beginning the year Emmaline had turned 60 and Phoebe had turned 62—they’d celebrated their birthdays by taking a trip to the French countryside. Although not officially a part of François’ group, the women had toured Chateau Fontigneux with the others.
5
Texan tourist Jake James, angrier than a swatted bee, coaxed a grunt from legs splayed to the max when he plopped down in a woven rattan chair. “He can’t hold us here! I have a meeting in London tomorrow that I cannot miss! It is vitally important that I make connections! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet with a certain highly specialized individual.”
Harlow patted his arm. “Honey, call your lawyer. See if they can legally detain us.” Jake’s wife sought understanding from Jix and Abby Gayle, the American travelers Harlow had befriended in the past few days.
“I have an invitation to high tea tomorrow afternoon. I’ve never been to an English tea. I got a new outfit and everything,” she whined.
Surrounded by a jungle of greenery, Bill Haynes stood nearby talking with Austin Kamp and leisurely sipping wine.
Bill tossed a consoling word to the Texans. “Surely once we are questioned, we will be free to go. This is a delay, not a cancellation of plans. François is capable of arranging transportation. Let’s not panic.”
Rugby coach by trade, Kerin Apsley soon rejoined the others, minus Jix Haynes who’d gone to phone her sister to explain they’d not be in Paris to join her for dinner. Kerin’s wife Chelsea was summoned to the salon to chat with Inspector l’Oiseau.
Bill, Austin, Abby Gayle, Jake James, and platinum-haired Harlow were anxious to hear what had transpired between Apsley and the French inspector. Jix returned in time to hear the Englishman’s comments.
“Interesting chap,” ruddy-cheeked, fair-skinned Kerin said, referring to the Frenchman. “He asked if anyone was late to or absent from our group during the tour. The bloke didn’t say so, but reading between the lines, I’d bloody well say he thinks one or all of us are thieves!”
“He’s obviously a few sandwiches short of a picnic,” Emmaline Tomes casually commented, more to herself than to the others. She crossed her swollen ankles, slid to a comfortable position in one of six vintage, sunburst garden chairs arranged in a circle—each occupied by someone waiting to speak with the inspector. Emmaline selected one of Marie-Pierre’s cake-like cookies from a handleless silver basket and then passed them on to Phoebe.
The afternoon inched on as emotions ran a full gamut from anger to frustration to resignation. When l’Oiseau concluded interviews, he left instructions that Fabron and all in his party, including the English birthday ladies, stay close until granted permission to leave the area. Other chateau guests were told to go about their business.
Clearly, the inspector’s suspicions rested on François Fabron and his band of foreigners.
6
Considering they were leaving before the day was over, they didn’t need to know more about the robbery. Inspector l’Oiseau would have to present substantial evidence to delay them any longer, and that wasn’t likely or he would have already done so.
François planned to leave by mid-afternoon. Jake and Harlow would be on their way to Paris and then to London by the time Jix and Abby Gayle returned to Chateau Beaumontfort.
About the author:
**** There is another author selling on Amazon named Sara McFerrin who writes erotica. Please note this is not me! ****
A product of the Old South, author Sara Hollingsworth McFerrin, takes us back to the 1950s to simpler, friendlier times in her Southern Ladies’ Curiosity Club Series. Take a stroll down memory lane. Stop for a while to rock on somebody’s front porch and get to know Dixie, Bessie, Cora, Margene, and Mabel. You’ll laugh and cry and admire the ladies from an era when a run in your nylon stockings was remedied with a dab of clear fingernail polish.
If you like clean mysteries for the clever-minded reader, the Trunk Doctor Mystery Series is for you. Mystery, surprises, love, and laughter await the reader who dares to follow along on memorable adventures with Jix Haynes aka The Trunk Doctor and her sleuthing friend, Abby Gayle.
Sara McFerrin is a five-star, number one best seller on Amazon. She lives in the Florida panhandle with her husband and a terrier named Coco. An avid fan of the Food Network, cooking is her favorite pastime.
This book released August 4th
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