it’s probable that our man lived or worked somewhere in the region, or traveled, for whatever reason, within Périgord-Quercy. And, finally, he must have had some form of transportation because the disappearances were widely distributed.”
Julian developed this train of thought. “So you have a body in Carennac and four others missing, last seen in Souillac, La Bique, Le Buisson—and Beynac, if we accept that Bedie was there. All of these places lie in an east-west line
exactly following the Dordogne.
Have you considered that the person you’re looking for might work on the river? A barge hand, for example. Or someone who works on those tourist
gabarres.”
“Hmm,” said Loulou. “Yes, we thought of that. Except my theory is, it’s not the river but the road.Every one of those places is also on the D703, the major east-west artery, or the D25 where it joins the D703. Who knows, maybe he was a trucker with a delivery route along that stretch.”
Mara came in. “The dates of these incidents. Except for Bedie and the Dutch woman, which occurred in the same year, the others were—what?—roughly four or five years apart? You said the last one was Valérie Rules, in 1998. So nothing’s happened since then?”
“Not within the region. Not so far.” A hard glint came into Loulou’s eyes. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.”
“But surely women have gone missing in other places,” Julian objected.
“Certainement.
Over the years there have been disappearances elsewhere—Limoges, Bordeaux, Biarritz.”
“Then maybe your man’s not from around here after all. And maybe the four-to-five-year gap doesn’t hold, either. In fact, as you pointed out, every one of these women could have gone off for their own reasons. You could be looking for a killer and a pattern that don’t exist.”
“Hanneke Tenhagen was most definitely and brutally murdered,” Loulou reminded him sharply.
“Of course,” Julian conceded, looking vaguely troubled. “I wasn’t referring to her.”
“And my sister,” said Mara. “She didn’t disappearof her own volition. I’m sure of that. I think Loulou’s right. I don’t know about the women in other places, but for my money, Bedie, Hanneke Tenhagen, Julie Ménard, Mariette Charlebois, and Valérie Rules are connected somehow. I think there’s a killer loose in the Dordogne, Julian, and he’s probably looking for his next victim right now.”
They were all silent for a long moment.
Julian was the first to speak. “All of this is very interesting. But what are we supposed to do with it?”
“Do?” Loulou looked startled. “In my opinion, nothing. But of course, that’s up to you.” He peered closely at Mara and shook his head. “I fear, however, that Madame is very much the one for action.”
“I’m convinced the orchids are trying to tell us something, at least where my sister is concerned,” she said.
“
Eh bien
, what about you, Monsieur the Orchid Expert? Do these flowers also speak to you?”
Julian blinked. “Well,” he said after a moment, “it so happens the section of the Dordogne Valley between Souillac and Le Buisson is a part of the region I know well because of the mapping and field research I did for my book.” Not in his wildest dreams had he ever expected
Wildflowers of the Dordogne/Fleurs sauvages de la Dordogne
to be put to such a bizarre application. “Offhand, I’d say that most of the orchids in the photographs could be found there. Trouble is, they can also be found in other places, scattered pretty much throughout theregion.” He shook his head. “When all’s said and done, it’s precious little to go on.”
By the time Loulou saw them out, the day was coming to a spectacular end. A fierce sunset bathed the western face of the town, lingered redly in the windows of the houses. The vineyards in the valley below stood in shadow.
“Bonne chance!”
Loulou shook hands energetically with them. “I think you
Julian developed this train of thought. “So you have a body in Carennac and four others missing, last seen in Souillac, La Bique, Le Buisson—and Beynac, if we accept that Bedie was there. All of these places lie in an east-west line
exactly following the Dordogne.
Have you considered that the person you’re looking for might work on the river? A barge hand, for example. Or someone who works on those tourist
gabarres.”
“Hmm,” said Loulou. “Yes, we thought of that. Except my theory is, it’s not the river but the road.Every one of those places is also on the D703, the major east-west artery, or the D25 where it joins the D703. Who knows, maybe he was a trucker with a delivery route along that stretch.”
Mara came in. “The dates of these incidents. Except for Bedie and the Dutch woman, which occurred in the same year, the others were—what?—roughly four or five years apart? You said the last one was Valérie Rules, in 1998. So nothing’s happened since then?”
“Not within the region. Not so far.” A hard glint came into Loulou’s eyes. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.”
“But surely women have gone missing in other places,” Julian objected.
“Certainement.
Over the years there have been disappearances elsewhere—Limoges, Bordeaux, Biarritz.”
“Then maybe your man’s not from around here after all. And maybe the four-to-five-year gap doesn’t hold, either. In fact, as you pointed out, every one of these women could have gone off for their own reasons. You could be looking for a killer and a pattern that don’t exist.”
“Hanneke Tenhagen was most definitely and brutally murdered,” Loulou reminded him sharply.
“Of course,” Julian conceded, looking vaguely troubled. “I wasn’t referring to her.”
“And my sister,” said Mara. “She didn’t disappearof her own volition. I’m sure of that. I think Loulou’s right. I don’t know about the women in other places, but for my money, Bedie, Hanneke Tenhagen, Julie Ménard, Mariette Charlebois, and Valérie Rules are connected somehow. I think there’s a killer loose in the Dordogne, Julian, and he’s probably looking for his next victim right now.”
They were all silent for a long moment.
Julian was the first to speak. “All of this is very interesting. But what are we supposed to do with it?”
“Do?” Loulou looked startled. “In my opinion, nothing. But of course, that’s up to you.” He peered closely at Mara and shook his head. “I fear, however, that Madame is very much the one for action.”
“I’m convinced the orchids are trying to tell us something, at least where my sister is concerned,” she said.
“
Eh bien
, what about you, Monsieur the Orchid Expert? Do these flowers also speak to you?”
Julian blinked. “Well,” he said after a moment, “it so happens the section of the Dordogne Valley between Souillac and Le Buisson is a part of the region I know well because of the mapping and field research I did for my book.” Not in his wildest dreams had he ever expected
Wildflowers of the Dordogne/Fleurs sauvages de la Dordogne
to be put to such a bizarre application. “Offhand, I’d say that most of the orchids in the photographs could be found there. Trouble is, they can also be found in other places, scattered pretty much throughout theregion.” He shook his head. “When all’s said and done, it’s precious little to go on.”
By the time Loulou saw them out, the day was coming to a spectacular end. A fierce sunset bathed the western face of the town, lingered redly in the windows of the houses. The vineyards in the valley below stood in shadow.
“Bonne chance!”
Loulou shook hands energetically with them. “I think you
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