Birds of a Feather: 3: Fly the Nest (Bennett Sisters Mysteries Book 16) by Lise McClendon (free novel 24 .txt) 📕

I said I have been looking for a rehab center. I will continue to do that. He needs counseling as well, but I believe we must start with sobriety.” She glanced around. “All in agreement?”

They nodded. Aubrey looked at her father. “Give him leave at the firm, Daddy. He needs to get his act together in so many ways. He needs time.”

“Of course, darling,” Evans said. “He’ll be fine, in due course.”

Conor looked at the floor. He was not at all certain about that. His relationship with his brother would never be the same, he was sure of that. He glanced up and his mother was looking at him.

“I will handle things,” she said softly. “This is a medical problem, as well as a social one, and family one. First we get the medical under control then we work on repairing relationships.” Although it was the statement of a professional, sadness crept into her voice.

“Oh, Mum,” Aubrey said, her voice cracking. “You are so strong.”

Isabelle flicked her eyes at her daughter. They were misty but she blinked to clear them. “We do what we must, chérie. What we must.”

Conor left the library first. He stopped in the middle of the front hall and heaved a breath. That was done. His parents would see to whatever must be done with Duncan. He washed his hands of the situation.

As he stood there, regaining his equilibrium, Elise came inside, followed by Pascal and Merle. They were whispering conspiratorially until they saw him. Elise stopped next to him.

“How did it go?” she whispered, glancing at the library door.

“It’s done. Mum is handling it.”

Elise put her arms around his neck and hugged him. He felt her warm breath and the chill of the afternoon on her skin. “It will be fine,” she whispered.

He pulled back, looking at her sister and Pascal. “What have you been up to?”

“We overheard a conversation in the hedges,” Elise whispered, eyes dancing.

“What do you know about Pauline?” Pascal asked him.

“Nothing,” Conor said.

Pascal nodded. “I need to do some background work. Is the kitchen free?”

“Let’s check,” Merle said, pulling him toward the dining room.

Conor and Elise watched them go through the swinging door to the kitchen. Elise took his hand. “What shall we do? We have an hour before our presence is required at cocktails.”

Conor smiled. “My mind is blank.”

“Really? Well, I have an idea or two.” She pulled him toward the stairs. “Come on, you.”

As they reached their bedroom door, Pauline stepped out of her room into the hall, carrying a silver tray rattling with tea cups. She held it awkwardly as she pulled the door shut behind her. Elise and Conor stared at her. She was still wearing the big black shoes and leggings, with a heavy man’s sweater that hung halfway to her knees.

She saw them and straightened her face and posture, walking down the hall, head high. As she passed she said, “He’s fine, if you’re curious. Just fine. No need to check on him. I am taking good care of Duncan.”

Elise frowned as she walked past them toward the stairs. “What’s she up to?”

Conor touched her chin and pulled her focus back toward him. “I know what we’re up to. And that’s all that counts.”

Chapter Eleven

In the kitchen the chef and maid were working on dinner, planning something warm and comforting for the chilly winter weather. The smells were divine. Pascal paused to watch them assemble a tartiflette of cheese and potatoes, one of his favorite dishes, especially on a wintry day. Merle asked them questions like what sort of cheese they used— reblochon was the answer— and dipped a finger in the creamy sauce to taste it.

“Monsieur?” Gini said in a small, pleading voice. “We are concerned as we have not been paid and now the general is missing.”

“Have you spoken to your agency?” Pascal said.

Audette nodded. “They know nothing. Did you call them about Gabriel and Sabine? I gave the other sister the card.”

Pascal had almost forgotten about the business card. He pulled it from his shirt pocket. “Yes. Louis Bordeaux, right?”

“Not his real name,” Gini said. “He is possibly not French at all.” Audette guessed Corsican by his accent.

“I will call the agency, see about your wages.” Pascal and Merle sat down at the kitchen table at the far end of the room, with the view of the back. Merle looked out at the icy pond and hedgerows as Pascal worked his mobile phone. First he called the London caterer.

The conversation took place entirely in rapid-fire French. Pascal held the phone away from his ear. The heat on Pascal’s end rose, as did the speed. He hung up abruptly.

“Nothing?” Merle asked.

“Something. He is upset about disappearance of Gabriel and death of Sabine, but not out of sympathy. Because the check for the services of Audette and Gini is no good. It took a few days to bounce, with the holidays and all. He has been trying to contact them but got no answer. The food bill has him whipped up as well, put on his account, thousands of pounds. They were very slow to pay for their last engagement, a soirée of some sort in May. He was angry that he had allowed them to book again and berated himself for trusting them.”

“Did you ask how long they lived in London?” Merle asked.

“No, but he said they had contracted with him last Christmas, a year ago. So at least a year.”

At the work table Gini began to cry. Audette put an arm around her. To Pascal she said, “She has been sending money home for her mother. She is confined at home, unable to work.”

Merle found her purse and pulled out her wallet. To Pascal she whispered, “I have two-hundred Euros.” He nodded. She got up and walked to the table. “It is not what you’re owed, I’m sure, but it will help a little.” She pushed the bills toward the women, huddled together.

Audette moved the money closer to