Son of Holmes

“With that, he called for a carriage and sent me on my way. What should I think of him, Jules? Is he a friend of yours?”

Of course, Lupa had told her nothing about our real relationship, leaving it to me to make that decision. I’d tried to be honest with Tania as much as possible, though I hadn’t told her what I really was. There had been no need. And now, I was reluctant to tell her because I was afraid of her. Afraid that she might not understand or, on the other hand, would understand too well. So I temporized.

“I wouldn’t worry about Monsieur Lupa, dear,” I said. “I spent the night at his place on Wednesday after my walking took me downtown. He’d come to the gathering only to try my beer, and was genuinely upset at the way things turned out. He’d only met Marcel that afternoon and they had had no disagreements. They seemed to get on quite well. Certainly, he had no reason to kill him.”

“But which of us did?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I really don’t know. I don’t know.” I slumped and stared down at the well-kept gravel of her terrace. “I can’t believe he killed himself.”

“Maybe Henri is right,” she said, “with his rumors.”

“What are those?”

“He said that he’s heard for the past several months that Marcel had something to do with espionage, with the war.”

A chill passed through me. “Henri said that? Where did he hear that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s absurd. I’ve known Marcel all my life, and-”

“But what if he was? What if he was, and another of us is, and we don’t know, and he was killed by one of his friends to keep… Oh, Jules,” she said, “I’m afraid.”

I stood up and she rose to embrace me.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t be such a baby. It’s just with all of this, and the boys away at the front… I just don’t know what to make of things.”

I kissed her, and suddenly she stiffened against me.

“What’s that?” she demanded, putting her hand under my arm where I kept my gun.

I had to tell her. “A pistol, just to be safe.”

Her lip quivered. She was going to cry. “Jules, please, don’t you get mixed up in this. Please.”

“Now, now,” I said. “I’m not ‘mixed up’ in anything. I merely felt a little nervous and decided at least to be in a position to protect myself should any of my friends…” I trailed off.

She buried her face in my shoulder and cried softly. “Any of your friends. Why won’t they leave us alone? Oh, poor Marcel.” Her voice broke again. She looked up at me pleadingly. “Jules, really, you’re not involved? You’re not a spy?”

“No,” I said, “no, I’m not a spy. I’m a middle-aged man who’s getting old and ready to retire with his lover. I don’t want anything to threaten that, so I carry a gun, but only until we find what happened to Marcel. All I want to do is brew beer and tend my vineyards”-I picked up her chin-“and love you.”

She smiled bravely.

I kissed her again and stepped back. “I have to go. Georges and Paul will be waiting. I’ll pick you up on the way back. We’ll stay together tonight.”

I watched her walk off into the house, then turned and headed down the stairs to the Ford. The damn thing was, all I really did want to do was brew beer and tend my vineyards and live with Tania. But, then, what if Tania were a spy? No, I wouldn’t let myself think that.

It was hot in the car as I turned into the road. I’d have to see Lupa after I’d been to St. Etie

But my friend was dead, and when the rituals were over, that would remain, so I drove slowly, thinking of my own best sausage recipe and watching out for potholes.

6

The war was everywhere. If normal life can be said to continue in a town stripped of its young men, then normal life went on. But of course the war touched everyone you knew or met and colored the mood of the entire countryside. Even as the sun shone brightly down on our fountain, where Paul sat with his pants rolled up cooling his feet, the streets were cleared for a convoy of trucks and carriages carrying supplies to the front.

I pulled over and parked across the square, watching the vehicles roll past, then walked over to join my friends. Paul was smoking a cigarette and talking animatedly to Georges. They stopped as I drew nearer, and Paul pulled his feet from the water and rolled down his trousers.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go, then.”

We helped Georges with his packages. There seemed to be enough gauze for the entire army, but he explained that there was to be a huge shipment to the front with the St. Etie

Finally, when the wind kept blowing his tobacco away before he could roll it, he joined us in the front seat.

“Never had that problem on a horse.”

We rode along, then, quietly for a while. The trees passed quickly by on either side of the road. Paul smoked in what he called the “French ma

“Has it occurred to anyone,” he asked, finally, “how incredibly inept the police have been about this whole thing? You’d think that it wasn’t a possible murder they were investigating but something more in the line of a petty theft.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Paul. “I have to register every day at St. Etie

“That’s because you’re not French. Here I go off on business for the next four or five days, and they’ve asked me to prepare an itinerary of my stops, but no check-in in the towns themselves. If I had killed Marcel, I could be beyond Algeria if I decided to leave. It makes no sense.”

“It’s the war,” I said. “Even forgetting that the heart of the force is gone to fight at the front, for the rest, all of their routines are upset, and without their routines…”

“Well, they might as well be at the front for all the good they do here.”

“Now, Georges,” said Paul, “I suppose they’re doing something, and we just don’t know about it. Besides, if you decided to go to Africa, that would be punishment enough for any crime I can think of. What heat!”

We were approaching St. Etie

“I live just about a mile down the road. I mean two kilometers. And I feel like walking. I’ll see you all-when?”

“Wednesday?” I ventured. “It would be good to get back to normal.” Actually, it would be good to be able to predict where everyone would be at a certain time.

“I don’t know if I want to be in that room for a time, though,” Paul said. “Why don’t we make it somewhere else next week?”

“Fine. I’ll get back to you. Is that all right with you, Georges?”

He nodded.

“Okay, then,” said Paul, “see you later. Ciao.”

With that, he turned and started up the road. Georges and I decided to light up cigarettes, and so had not yet driven off when Paul stopped two hundred meters away. A man stepped out from behind one of the trees lining the road and spoke to him. At that distance, I could see nothing descriptive. Since Georges was facing me, he saw nothing; and so without saying anything I engaged the gears and began to move. When I glanced back, both men had gone.

We continued on to St. Etie