Emma told the other ladies an excuse about going into town and headed toward La Yaute to meet this woman whose fiancé she had apparently tried to steal the night before. God she could only imagine what an ass she had made of herself. She could only hope there wasn’t dancing. Ever since she was a little girl, Emma’s mother had carefully explained to her that when she danced, her arms and legs went akimbo in such a way that it made others fear for their safety.
When she arrived at the café, the messy-bunned assistant led Emma to a high top table in the back. The café would have been a fun place if Emma wasn’t about to get reamed by a stranger. The floors and walls were made of an shy, grey wood, a local band was setting up to entertain for the evening and the sign on the front of the door had been turned round to say “Closed” despite clearly having been open for hours.
Courtade slinked out from around the corner, head high, not looking at Emma directly. Her hair had that Jessica Alba cool-girl wave to it. Her hairstyle said “pshh I don’t spend hours on my hair, what a waste, it just dries looking this good.” But Emma knew better – this clearly required a couple of different heat tools. When Courtade finally sat down straight in front of Emma’s face, she was surprised.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Emma Stanbury, your assistant requested I meet you here tonight.”
Eventually Courtade apologized profusely for wasting Emma’s time and falsely accusing her and the two prior enemies became amateur detectives over a couple of large glasses of Edelweiss.
Courtade described the wanton woman she was really after, “Tall, thin, very excited by men with money…”
Emma explained that since she was just passing through, she doubted she would be much help.
Then Courtade lowered the boom on the stranger’s jig, “Quite loud…”
And Emma immediately knew, it was their new “friend”, Janet, who was to blame.