02_Coyote in Provence (23 page)

“Thanks anyway,” Elena said, “but I think I’ll stick to winetasting.  I don’t think my palate is sophisticated enough to differentiate between various kinds of olive oil or salt.”

Neither one of them voiced it, but they were both grateful for the intrusion of the Camargue and the Black Madonna. It would have been too painful to spend the day talking of never seeing each other again.

As the day drew to a close, they drove back to Elena’s cottage, tired from the day and ready for a good night’s sleep.

CHAPTER 35

The following morning as Elena was making breakfast, Jordan said, “Elena, I need to talk to the Younts again. I’m see-sawing about what to do with the investigation of Pierre. I really need to talk to his parents and get some closure on this thing. Are you up for it? I know this is your last day of being off work and you may want to just rest, but if you could, I’d really like you to go with me.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about them non-stop and wondering how I can help them. Yes, I’d very much like to go with you.”

They were both quiet on the drive to Travaillan, each lost in their own thoughts. “Jordan, do you think we should tell them we know about the girls in the barn?”

“Yes. Think about it. The French woman who talked to you probably told them that you discovered the girls as soon as we left. Plus, I’d bet Pierre called his parents after I spoke with him and may have even told them I’m a detective. We need to reassure them that their secret is safe with us. They’re probably concerned we’ll go to the authorities.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right.”

 “I couldn’t sleep last night. I just kept thinking about how they’re helping those unfortunate abused girls,” Jordan said.

Elena nodded and said, “I didn’t sleep very well either.”

“Here’s what I’m struggling with. When I became a policeman, I took an oath to uphold the law. If I abandon the case against Pierre, I’m violating that oath. But if I uphold the law, a lot of little girls will never have a chance to lead a somewhat normal life. And if I don’t uphold the law, I could be prosecuted and very well might lose my job. I feel like I’ve been put in a box. It’s really a no-win situation.”

“I understand what you’re saying and yet…”

They stopped the car in front of the Younts’ home, carefully making their way around the trash that littered the yard, and did their best to avoid the chickens that were running loose. Jordan knocked on the door.
Monsieur
Yount opened it after a few moments.

“
Mademoiselle, Monsieur,
you have returned.
Madame
Lagne told us that you had discovered the girls in the barn. Are you returning to tell us that we will soon be arrested?”

“No. Please, may we come in? We want to talk to you,” Jordan said as the door opened for them.

Madame
Yount was in her favorite chair and they could hear the muted sound of the girls’ voices coming from the barn. To a casual observer, it would seem like a thoroughly domestic moment. A casual observer wouldn’t know there were little girls from Afghanistan in the barn who had been tortured and abused, that they were scheduled to travel to the United States, and that some of the expenses for their care was being funded by proceeds from art theft.

“What do you want from us?”
Monsieur
Yount asked. “
Madame
Lagne told you everything. What more can we tell you?”

Elena spoke for both of them. “Would it be possible for
Monsieur
Kramer to see the girls? I’ve told him about them, but if it’s not too much trouble, he would like to personally see them.”

“
Oui.
Madame
Sevy is here today.
Mademoiselle
Johnson, why don’t you take
Monsieur
Kramer out to the barn? It is too hard for me to walk.”

“
Certainement
. We will be back shortly.”

They quickly made their way to the barn and opened the door. “
Madame
Sevy, my name is Elena Johnson and this is Jordan Kramer. I was here the day before yesterday. May we come in?”

“
Oui.
We are in the middle of our daily English class.”

Elena stole a glance at Jordan and saw that he was having trouble remaining composed. Even though she knew what to expect, it was still heart-wrenching for her to see these young girls. One could only wonder what kind of monsters would do such despicable things to children.  Everywhere Jordan looked he saw shocking remnants of what had happened to the young girls. One girl had a peg-leg. Eyes had been gouged out. All of them were malnourished, and many were very small for their age.

One of the youngest girls, who couldn’t have been more than 1 ½ years old, toddled over to Jordan and held her arms up, indicating she wanted to be picked up. A jagged red scar ran from her left eyebrow to her chin.

“Can you believe it?”
Madame
Sevy said, “Her name is Noor. Her father did that to her. He wanted a son, not a daughter, so he slashed her with a butcher knife and when she was only one year old, put her out on the streets. Her mother was killed by him a few months after she gave birth to Noor. All of them have stories just as tragic.”

Jordan reached down and picked up the tiny little girl with the red scar running from her eyebrow to her chin. It looked like it might be infected. Elena noticed a bright sheen in his eyes, and knew he was trying not to cry.

They stayed for almost an hour, helping
Madame
by reading to the girls from a few tattered children’s books written in English.

“If you will excuse me, I need to fix their lunch and then the little ones need to take an afternoon nap. The older ones get in their beds and rest.”

“How do you do their laundry? I haven’t seen a washer or a dryer. I noticed there were clothes hanging in the yard when we visited last time. I would think there would be a lot of laundry,” Elena said.

“The other women and I take their clothing home and wash what little they have,”
Madame
Sevy said. “We bring groceries for them when we come. Pierre and his employer help with the expenses, but there is very little extra for the girls. Every time I walk into my home with a large bundle of wash, I am afraid a neighbor will wonder why I have so much laundry when I live alone. I wish we had a washing machine and dryer, but there is no money for that. It’s far more important that the girls are well-fed.”

“We need to leave now so you can fix them lunch,
Madame
. You have been very kind to let us visit. Thank you.
Bonjour.
”

Elena looked back at Jordan who was saying goodbye to the little girl he had been holding. He wiped a tiny teardrop off the little girl’s face with his finger and gave her a big hug. When he stood up, he wiped tears from his eyes as well.

As they walked back to the Younts’ house, Jordan seemed to be in a state of shock. “My God Elena, it’s much worse than you described. They’re living like animals. Animals live in barns, not little girls.”

They re-entered the house through the back door. “
Monsieur, Mademoiselle
, thank you for allowing me to meet your guests,” Jordan said. “You are doing a wonderful thing for these children. Rest assured your secret is safe with us. I wish you well. I do have one question. Why are you doing this?”

They were both quiet for a moment and then
Madame
Yount began to speak. “I am Jewish and was born in Germany. I escaped to France during World War II. After being here in France a few months, I met Giles and we married. My two younger sisters were not so lucky. They were killed by the Germans. When Pierre’s employer approached us about helping these Afghan orphan girls, it was as if these young girls replaced my sisters.”

“You’re a very brave lady. I’m sorry you’ve had so much tragedy in your life. Thank you for telling us,” Jordan said, putting his hand gently on the frail old woman’s shoulder. He wondered how Giles managed to button her stark black dress, knowing that
Madame
Yount’s impaired vision would make if very difficult for her to do.

Elena pulled an envelope out of her purse and gave it to
Monsieur
Yount. “
Monsieur
, you would honor me if you would allow me to help by providing some money to purchase a washer and dryer. Actually, it may help pay for a few other things as well. Thank you for letting me play a small part in their lives.”

As they turned to leave,
Monsieur
Yount put his hands heavily on the arms of his chair and lifted himself out of it as he grabbed his cane. “My son says that he remembers you, but he did not offer you a job. Why did you come here?”

“I talked to your son at the restaurant where I work. Yes, it’s true he didn’t offer me a job, but I hoped if I could find him he could help me.”

“You found us, and then lied to us about getting a job?” he said incredulously. “And then you offer money for a washer and dryer? I don’t understand.” His hand shook as he held on to the cane for support and his face reddened.

“I was acting selfishly. I had no idea what was happening here. I am truly sorry. I hope I have not caused you any concern. Again, let me assure you, your secret is safe with both of us. We will tell no one.
Bonjour
.”

They walked through the yard, dodging chickens and rubbish. When they got into the Renault, Elena began to sob. As he pulled onto the road, Jordan shook his head as if trying to get rid of the memories of what he had just witnessed. It was surreal, almost as if they had just witnessed some type of horror movie. Jordan was having a hard time making sense of what he had seen.

“That little girl, Noor. I can’t believe a father could do that to his child. I’m no closer to deciding whether or not there’s a God who would allow such cruelty to be inflicted on those young girls, but what I do know is that the gallery that had the paintings stolen was paid in full for its loss by its insurance company,” Jordan said. “I don’t think the small business galleries here in France, who didn’t know the paintings were stolen, should have to suffer a financial loss. But if the insurance company tries to get the paintings back because it paid the insurance claims, that’s exactly what will happen. And from what I’ve seen, I don’t think any of the gallery owners can afford to lose the money they paid Pierre for the paintings.”

Elena listened to him, willing the tears coursing down her cheeks to stop. She knew Jordan needed to make his own decision about Pierre, and she tried to understand why this was so difficult for him.

He continued, “I don’t see where Pierre personally gained from the theft. It seems the only true victim is the insurance company. God forgive me, but it’s pretty common knowledge they have deep pockets.”

“Jordan, I don’t want to sway you one way or another, but have you ever seen a president of an insurance company who was poor?” she asked.

“No. And I’ve been asking myself if I can live with myself if the Younts can no longer provide a safe place for these little Afghan girls.”

Elena interrupted him, “I’ll never forget those little girls. What a living hell they’ve endured and their scars… Poor babies.”

She looked over at him and could see the anguish that he was going through clearly reflected on his face. His hands were white where he gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I feel sick to my stomach. My whole life has been about catching bad guys. Even before I became a detective, I was brought up in a house where the law was as important as God. I come from a long line of policemen, and to not uphold the law goes against everything in my life.”

“Plus, if anyone finds out that I didn’t pursue a criminal and do my best to see him convicted, the police department would fire me. My career and everything I’ve worked for all these years would be thrown away. My father and the rest of my family would be disgraced because of what I did or actually, didn’t do,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Jordan, this is a decision only you can make. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I guess it boils down to what you can live with, because no matter which way you go, you’re going to have doubts. By a quirk of fate, events have placed you in a god-awful situation.” She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”

He was quiet for a long time as he drove and then he began to speak. “For me, it’s over. No one needs to know I talked to Pierre and went to the Younts’ home. I’ll tell Chief Lewis that the trail went cold, and I couldn’t find the other paintings. I’ll tell him I don’t think there’s anything more that can be done on this case.”

“Jordan, you know my feelings about the little girls, but don’t let that sway you. I’ll respect whatever your decision is, and I promise you, we will never speak of it again, if what you just said is your choice.”

“Right now what I need is a good meal, some wine, and some time to digest all of this. I need to call Pierre and tell him what my decision is. Hopefully, that will be the end of it. By the way, I saw you hand
Monsieur
Yount an envelope. What was in it?” he said, pulling his eyes from the highway to look at her.

“Jordan, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.”
Maybe this is the time to tell him everything. Maybe he’d understand. No, this isn’t the time. He’s worried enough that he might lose his job because he’s going to do what’s right for the little Afghan girls. He has enough on his mind without my past adding to his problems. Who knows, even though he says he loves me, he might start feeling guilty for not turning me in.

After a long pause, she continued, “I actually have a substantial amount of money. My husband left me very well off. I keep quite a bit of cash in the cottage in case of an emergency. I put a large amount of it in an envelope this morning when you told me we were going back to see the Younts. I think it will help them feed and clothe the little girls who take refuge there for quite awhile, maybe even long enough that Pierre won’t have to commit any more burglaries for some time.”