Part 22 (2/2)
”Elwyn is. Hey, Elwyn,” the fireman yelled. ”Get over here.”
Two squad cars were parked at the bottom of the hill. Two officers were just putting handcuffs on le Tigre as Evan arrived, out of breath and aching from his exertion.
”What the . . . Evans?” Sergeant Watkins ran to meet him.
”Here's his gun, Sarge.” Evan handed over the weapon. ”There's a wounded boy up the mountain. Call the ambulance, please.”
”Are you okay?” Watkins put a hand on his shoulder. ”Come and sit down. Nice work, by the way. Trust you to have found him!”
”All luck, Sarge, and a lot of help,” Evan said.
At that moment another police car pulled up and Glynis Davies jumped out. ”What on earth's happening?” she asked.
”It looks as if we've just nabbed our suspect,” Watkins said. ”Thanks to Constable Evans.”
The other car door opened and Janine Laroque got out. She stood there with a look of horror on her face as two policemen led the handcuffed prisoner past her to the squad car. The man spotted her and unleashed a torrent of abuse.
Suddenly Evan realized the truth. This man was the ”monster” she had had to run away from-the rich, handsome man she had married and who had made her life h.e.l.l. It made sense after all.
Chapter 24.
Later that evening Evan sat in Bronwen's warm kitchen as Janine busied herself at the stove, preparing them what she called ”a simple meal.” After a long soak in Mrs. Williams's tub he felt almost human again, although his hair had been singed and he had some impressive bruises.
”This must be like a huge weight lifted from you, Janine,” Bronwen said. ”How awful to have lived in such fear.”
Janine nodded. ”It was unbearable, mademoiselle. As soon as I marry zis handsome, charming man I find out 'e ees a monster. A bad man. A crazy man. I nevair know where 'is money come from, and 'e nevair tell me, but I know it ees somesing bad. He tell me if I leave 'im, I die. When I became Yvette Bouchard I sink I am finally safe. 'E will nevair find me now. But 'e did find me. I am stupid and vain, no? I let zem take my picture and put eet in zee paper.”
”And your husband was here, scouting out the territory in preparation for the drug s.h.i.+pments,” Evan said. ”Pure bad luck that he saw your picture and came to see you.”
”But I nevair see 'im, monsieur. Ozzerwise I would 'ave told you. Believe me, if I suspected zat Gaston 'ad found me again, I would 'ave come straight to you.”
”So you never saw him,” Evan said. ”He must have sneaked into your living quarters to surprise you alone-but Jean Bouchard was up there. Who knows what they said to each other-but if Jean said he was Yvette's husband, and Gaston thought you were using the name Yvette . . .”
”Zat would have been enough to make Gaston fly into a rage. He was crazy wiz jealousy.”
”Well, it's all over now,” Bronwen said. ”You're finally free.”
”Not exactly free,” Evan said. ”She still has charges to face-impersonating another person to collect the insurance; trying to destroy evidence. Those are serious offenses. But I suspect the jury will be lenient when they hear what you've already gone through.”
”Eet does not worry me anymore,” Janine said. ”Now zee police 'ave Gaston, I am safe. Maybe I'll open a new restaurant someday.”
”Why not rebuild here?” Bronwen said. ”Who knows, the locals might eventually develop a taste for good food.”
A few days later Evan was sitting at his desk, working on an application for detective training, when Sergeant Watkins came in.
”h.e.l.lo, boyo, hard at work are we, then?” he asked as Evan shoved the application form hastily under the incident book. ”What are you looking so guilty about-fiddling the travel expenses?”
”No, nothing like that, Sarge. I leave that to you.”
Watkins chuckled. ”So it's back to business as usual after all the excitement, is it?”
”It seems that way,” Evan said. ”What brings you up here?”
”Just thought I'd stop by and say h.e.l.lo,” he said, ”and thank you for what you did. It seems you might be in for a citation-catching that Gaston bloke single-handed.”
”I didn't do it single-handed,” Evan said. ”And I couldn't have done it without young Bryn. And even then I let the b.a.s.t.a.r.d walk away . . .”
Watkins put a hand on his shoulder. ”Don't think they're not grateful. Your catching that Gaston bloke was the big break we needed. Apparently the rest of the gang didn't put too much faith in his silence. It seems they've given up on the idea of coming into local ports, at least for the time being.”
”They'll show up again, somewhere else,” Evan said.
”Yes, but it won't be on our turf, will it?” Watkins beamed. ”And it looks as though Gaston will be returned to France to face prior charges there. Between us we've got enough on him to put him away for life.”
”Janine will be pleased,” Evan said.
”Is she still staying with your schoolteacher friend?”
”No, she's gone,” Evan said. ”She posted bail and she's left to sort things out.”
”She's got some pretty unpleasant times ahead of her, I'd say. She's not out of the woods by a long way.”
”It's still probably nothing to her compared to knowing she's finally safe from her husband. And when the jury hears what she's been through, I think she'll get off lightly.”
”Too bad she's gone. The wife had been badgering me to take her to the French restaurant. Now I've blown it, haven't I? She won't let me forget it in a hurry, either.”
Evan returned his smile, then became serious again. ”I don't suppose Gaston has ever said exactly what happened in Madame's flat that night-why he killed Jean Bouchard, I mean? Do you think there was a drug connection and he'd traced down someone who double-crossed him?”
”I don't think so,” Watkins said. ”I got the impression that he found another bloke in his wife's bedroom. That was all the incentive he needed to kill.”
”If he'd asked him who he was, Jean Bouchard might have said he was Yvette's husband-which wouldn't have been a good answer, considering.”
”Well, now they're gone-the lot of them,” Watkins said, walking past Evan's desk to stare out the window at the hills. ”I don't suppose that Englishman is going to rebuild that cottage up there, is he?”
”I doubt it very much.” Evan got up to look as well.
”So your butcher friend will be happy-Llanfair has been ethnically cleansed and is now purely Welsh again. The boy's doing okay, is he-the one who got shot?”
Evan started, uneasy that Watkins had linked Bryn's name subconsciously to the fires. ”Yes, he's making a good recovery. He was b.l.o.o.d.y lucky the bullet went through where it did. A couple of inches farther down and he would have been a goner.”
”So we never really found out who was behind the fires, did we?” Watkins asked.
”Maybe Sergeant Potter is still working on it,” Evan said.
Watkins chuckled. ”No, didn't you hear? He's got a transfer to Chester. He couldn't get the hang of Welsh, you see, so he had to give up and look for a job in England. Can't say I'm too heartbroken, are you?”
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