Death in Darkness

Chapter 6

6The following morning, Ben left right after breakfast to drive to Bergerac and inspect the house of Bernard Petit, while Molly spent the morning digging vines out of the front border—a never-ending, thankless job—and then meeting with Monsieur Gradin to discuss the barn rebuilding. The Jenkinses left to see the cathedral in Périgueux. There was no sign of Arthur or the Badowskis, and the Mertenses seemed perfectly content to sit at the small table outside the cottage, lingering over fresh croissants and watching the activity in the yard at La Baraque.

Ben took the short cut to Bergerac, a series of twisting, narrow roads that wound through forests and farmland, until in short order he was waiting at a stop light on the fringes of the small city. He found Petit’s house without any trouble and parked his battered Renault a few blocks away so he could stretch his legs on the way to the meeting.

Despite his dislike of Petit, he was quite pleased to have the job—mostly for the sake of Dufort/Sutton Investigations, but also simply because the case was an interesting enough mystery to pique his curiosity. Who was stealing from the house? Were the thefts done purely for money or was there another motive? And how was he going to catch the thief?

Petit answered the door and mumbled a greeting. “All right then, come in,” he said, irritably, as though Ben had appeared at his door to pester him.

Ben smiled. “First I’d like—”

“Come on upstairs, I’ll show you the closet where the shoe trees were stolen.” Petit began lumbering up a graceful wooden staircase with a patterned carpet running down the center.

Ben did not move. “Before you do that, I would first like to see all the entrances to the house, including basement doors and windows. If you please,” he added, with only a faint edge.

The two men stood and looked at each other. Petit broke first, shaking his very large head. “Have it your way,” he said gruffly. “Front door, obviously, you just saw.”

“How long has that lock been on the door? Do you use that inner deadbolt when you’re home?”

“No, I don’t. Well, occasionally I might, if I happen to think of it on my way upstairs. You’re not suggesting someone is coming in while I’m here? They wouldn’t be able to get into the closet in my bedroom if that were the case!” Petit glared at Ben.

“I’m asking routine questions, Monsieur Petit, calm down. The point of routine questions is to fill in the big picture, so I have a good idea of your habits regarding security.”

Petit shrugged and looked away. “The lock’s been there quite a while. Never had any problems with it, never needed to change it.”

“Who else has a key?”

“My children, I suppose, but as I say, they are in school and haven’t been home in months. We don’t get on all that well. Not every family is a happy, joyous group, you know.”

“Right,” said Ben. “And you’re sure they haven’t been back, maybe came to Bergerac to see friends, something like that?”

“I can’t say it’s categorically impossible,” said Petit, raising his voice. “But my children did not steal the shoe trees!”

Ben sighed. “I am not suggesting they did. I am only trying to understand who might have been going in and out of the house in the last few months, that is all. If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re quite…unsettled, Monsieur Petit. Is something bothering you, I mean apart from the thefts?”

“Did I hire you to be my psychiatrist or private investigator? I’ll thank you to limit your investigation to the job as I have described it. Allow me to state the situation again in case you missed it: over the course of several months, someone has been coming into my house and stealing my things. Nothing exceptionally valuable, thank God. I have found no broken windows or other evidence of a break-in. I have fired my housekeeper and hired a new one. Yet the thefts have continued.”

Ben kept his expression unperturbed, though he couldn’t spend five minutes in Petit’s company without wanting to punch him in the nose. “Would you list the stolen items, please?” He pulled out a small pad and had a pen at the ready.

“All right,” said Petit, seeming a bit mollified. “The shoes trees, as I believe I have mentioned. Pillowcases, at least six or eight. All the umbrellas from the umbrella stand.” He tapped his sausage-sized finger against his chin, thinking.

“All somewhat utilitarian items, then.”

“What do you mean? That they’re useful? Well, anything is useful one way or another, or it wouldn’t exist.”

Ben shrugged. “So three different items at three different times?”

“Yes. I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting, but that’s what I remember for now.”

“Are you often forgetful?”

“Dammit, Dufort! For the last time, you are not investigating the inside of my head! The shoe trees, please!”

Hiding a smile, Ben went upstairs followed by Petit. He rather thought that every investigation, no matter what it was about on the surface, was about the insides of people’s heads. And even though he thought Petit to be a dreadful person and disliked him intensely, it was also true that the inside of Petit’s head held some mysteries Ben was not incurious about.

Did someone want to torment the man? If so, the plan appeared to be working. Was someone only trying to steal things that might not be missed…no, that couldn’t be right, anyone’s going to notice when the pillowcases all disappear right off the pillows. Why was Petit so exceptionally grouchy, and why did his children not get along with him?

Ben did his best to remember all the questions flooding his mind as Petit showed him around the house. He took notes from time to time and did not see anything at this first inspection that gave him any hint about why Petit’s household stuff was disappearing. Which was a little nerve-wracking, because Petit did not seem to be the kind of client whose middle name was Patience. He wanted answers, and it was obvious that if he didn’t get them soon, things were going to turn even more testy.