Macaron Murder (with Recipes) (A Patisserie Mystery) Read online

“Ah, it’s la heiress,” said Cyril. “Here with your goonies?”

  “Look, there’s no need to be rude,” said Clémence. “He’s a plumber who’s been waiting outside and I had to come back from work just to let your men know that it’s all right.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry that it’s rather an inconvenience to you,” Cyril said sarcastically. “But we’re in the middle of a very important murder investigation and we can’t just let anyone in the building.”

  “How’s that going, by the way?” Clémence was unable to keep the snark from her voice. “Find any leads yet?”

  “Yes, plenty.”

  But Clémence could tell by his agitated expression that they had found very little.

  “You know the button in Miffy’s mouth?” Clémence said. “Did you find a coat with a wooden button in la gardienne’s house?”

  “The button. No. La gardienne has no such coat. Which is why I say that it could’ve been a pivotal clue. Now I doubt the button is going to come back with anything concrete with your little dog’s slobber all over it.”

  “Surely there are other things you must’ve picked up on,” said Clémence. “What about—”

  “Oh mademoiselle,” said Cyril. “Please let the professionals handle it. I think you’ve interfered enough. I’m still looking at you as our main suspect and I don’t need you tossing me any red herrings to throw me off your trail. You do need to come into the station to give your statement, so come in at 3:30pm this afternoon.”

  Clémence fumed, but she held back her tongue. Her temper had caused her trouble in the past, but she was a grown woman now. She didn’t want some incompetent inspector to provoke her like they were both ten-year-olds in a playground. He gave her a card with the address of the prefecture de police and Clémence snatched it.

  “Fine,” said Clémence.

  She went into her building and Ben and the plumber followed.

  “What a jerk,” Ben said in English.

  “You’re telling me,” Clémence replied.

  The tiny elevator could only fit two people and Ben offered to walk up because he was used to it. Five floors was nothing for him.

  The elevator didn’t to go to the seventh floor. They had to pass through her apartment and go up the servant staircase. The top floor was less glamourous than the rest of the building. The hallways and walls had no chic wall paper, and no chandelier like they did on the main floor. Fluorescent lights were used instead. There was a toilet room that greeted them when they rounded up the staircase. The room had a window with a view of the tower, so anyone who used could be looking at la tour when they did a number one or number two. Clémence had always found that to be extremely unpleasant.

  Ben unlocked the door to his little room.

  On his table was a rusty blue typewriter, which he had been writing on that morning telling by the half page already written protruding from the top. A full ashtray of cigarette butts was beside it, along with novels and papers scattered all over the table. On the couch was a guitar. Empty glasses, beer bottles and bags of chips were on the small kitchen counter, leaving no space for anything.

  Ben rubbed the back of his neck out of embarrassment.

  “Now that I’m looking at this room through your eyes, I see how messy it is.”

  “No worries,” said Clémence with a smile. “You’re a grown man. You can do what you want in your own room. Except let your sink get blocked of course.

  The plumber was already at work and he found the problem. Using a long snake coil, he managed to get out some pieces of food from the pipes. The sink drained.

  The smell from the water was horrible and Clémence plugged her nose.

  “Thank God,” said Ben. “Now I can stop doing the dishes in the shower.”

  Clémence reached into her wallet to pay the plumber, but Ben insisted on paying.

  “No, it’s okay,” said Clémence. “You’re our tenant. We’ll take care of it.”

  “But I was the one who caused the problem to begin with.”

  “Tell you what, if it happens again, you can pay the full amount.”

  Clémence paid the plumber and he packed up to go.

  “Bonne journée!” he said before he left.

  “Have a nice day too,” said Clémence.

  “Can we at least split the cost?” said Ben.

  “Nah.”

  “Okay, at least let me buy you a drink or something when you’re at the poetry slam.”

  “Sure,” said Clémence. “If that makes you feel better.”

  Ben dragged a crate of his dishes from the shower back to the small sink.

  “I guess I’ll clean up now.”

  Clémence noticed a wine glass with a lipstick stain on it. It was a similar shade of dark plum as the shade she’d seen in la gardienne’s apartment.

  “Who drank from your glass?” Clémence asked. “The one with the lipstick.”

  “Oh.” Ben grinned. “I’m not having some sort of love affair if that’s what you’re thinking. Hope you’re not jealous.”

  Clémence raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh please.”

  “Then why do you want to know?” Ben asked flirtatiously.

  “Because I have a hunch,” Clémence said. “Whoever she is, she was in la gardienne’s apartment when she was killed.”

  “What?” Ben dropped the dopey smile. “Well, I mean, I guess it makes sense. It’s the girl from next door, Lara. She was friends with la gardienne.”

  “Really? What does she do? Does she work for a family here?”

  “Yes. She’s a cleaner. She works for the family on the third floor sometimes and rents the room from them.”

  “Oh, the Dubois family?”

  “Yes. Only part-time, because she works in other homes around the neighbourhood too, and a couple of hair salons or something.”

  “Why is she friends with la gardienne?”

  “Frankly, she and la gardienne likes to gossip together about the tenants and what’s happening in the building. Lara is not well-liked by everyone else either. I think she has some sort of inferiority complex about being a maid. She’s friendly towards me because I’m this poor writer and she thinks we’re in the social class.” Ben chuckled. “The thing is, we’ve never really hung out, but last night, she knocked on my door and asked if I had any wine. I don’t think she has too many friends, and she looked kind of harried. Maybe she was looking for company and I did have some wine around so we had a glass and chatted. She asked me a few questions about my day and that was about it.”

  “That’s weird. So she has never been to your room in the six months that you’ve lived here until last night?”

  “Yes,” said Ben. “Now that you’ve put it that way, I guess it is sort of strange. But it looked like she was upset about something and really needed a drink because she was out of alcohol. All the restaurants here are so expensive, and the stores are closed at night, so it made sense I suppose if she really wanted to drink. She kept chatting with me for a long time, even though I could tell she was in her own thoughts sometimes.”

  “Unless she had just killed la gardienne and needed to see someone so she had an alibi,” Clémence mused.

  “What?” Ben frowned.

  “I don’t mean to scare you, I’m just looking at this from an inspector’s perspective. Did she look odd in any way?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Ben. “I mean, she wore a long sleeved shirt that was scuffed up, but I think it’s because she cleans in that shirt so naturally she wasn’t wearing her nicest clothes.”

  “What do you mean by scuffed up?”

  “It was just an old grey shirt with some dirty stains here and there and some rips.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Wow, you really think she had something to do with the murder?”

  “I don’t know. I do think that I need to talk to her. She was in la gardienne’s apartment last night, telling from the lipstick. What does she look like?”

  “She�
��s in her late twenties or early thirties, I can’t tell. She has dark brown hair that she usually ties up in a knot on top of her head.”

  “And wears a plum colored lipstick all the time?”

  “Sometimes, yes.”

  “I wonder why she wanted to drink with you when she already had a drink with la gardienne.”

  Ben shrugged. “For the pleasure of my company?”

  “What time does she usually come home?”

  “Around seven or eight. I can usually hear her footsteps when she comes back. The walls are so thin and I can pretty much tell who is coming and going just by their footsteps.”

  Clémence smiled wryly. “Great. Can you text me when she’s home? I’ll speak to her then.”

  “You’re not going to just accuse her of murder will you? She probably won’t take too well to that. She does have a temper.”

  “A temper?”

  “Yes. She’s not hesitant to chew out a neighbor if they’re playing their music too loud or something. I’m just lucky she doesn’t mind me and I’m on her good side.”

  “Well, I’ll be asking her about a cleaning job,” said Clémence, “that had just become available at my place.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Clémence went back to the patisserie to have some lunch. With all that had happened, she didn’t have the time to do her grocery shopping so she had one of the chefs make her a salmon salad.

  She invited Celine to join her to eat at the employee section when another hostess came to relieve Celine for her lunch break. She didn’t speak to Celine about the murder. She didn’t want to talk about it to anyone again until she talked to Lara. Lunch was a time when murder shouldn’t be on her mind. Instead she chitchatted to Celine about girly things.

  Celine had been talking about these new Burberry sandals she was drooling over, then she approached Clémence with a more delicate subject.

  “You know Sebastien?” she started.

  “Yup, what about him?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you knew whether he had a girlfriend.”

  Clémence suppressed a smile. “Why so interested?”

  Celine shrugged. “Just curiosity.”

  “Have you ever asked him?”

  “No! I would never. It’s none of my business.”

  “So why are you asking me?” Clémence teased.

  Celine sighed. She ripped a piece of her baguette and popped it in her mouth. “Fine. I’m interested in him. But whenever we talk, it’s always about desserts. He’s so taciturn.”

  “That’s Sebastien all right.”

  “What’s his deal? He’s never flirty with me or anybody else. He only really talks to his sister.” Celine sighed again, but this time with an airy smile. “He’s so mysterious.”

  Clémence chuckled. Young love. She could see Sebastien’s appeal. He was tall, with pale, perfect skin and sharp cheek bones. His big passion in life was his work: desserts. Plus he was quiet, gentle and thoughtful.

  Clémence however preferred guys who were more outgoing and fun, but due to their spontaneous nature, they didn’t think twice about breaking Clémence’s heart.

  “Why don’t you ask Berenice?” asked Clémence.

  Celine’s eyes widened. “No way! She’ll surely tell Sebastien that I like him. They’re so close. But I can’t stand it anymore. I need to know if Sebastien has a girlfriend. Otherwise, I can’t seem to move on. I compare every guy with Sebastien and I don’t even know him that well.”

  “Workplace romances are a bit tricky,” Clémence said. “Years ago I dated one of the waiters—that was before you came to work here—and he expected special treatment after awhile. Like he would come in late or ask for three or four days off at a time.”

  “Did you fire him?”

  “My father did! He certainly didn’t like the fact that we were together, which I suppose was part of the appeal. We continued dating for a couple of more weeks, but we soon realized that we had nothing in common outside of the patisserie. He had very little ambition in life. He got another waitering job in the 15th at a crappy brasserie and I suspect that it would be his career.” Clémence sighed at the memory. The waiter had been gorgeous, but so wrong for her in every way. “But anyway, I can try to find out more about Sebastien from Berenice if you’d like. He is quiet, but he is actually quite observant.”

  “Thanks.” Celine smiled in relief. “Seeing him is torture. I just want to break down those walls, you know? What is he thinking about all the time? What does he do outside of work? He drives me crazy. In a good way.”

  “Who knows, maybe once you get to know him, the appeal will be gone.”

  “I hope so,” said Celine. “It’s really throwing a wrench in my dating life. How am I suppose to enjoy myself out there when I’m in love with someone?”

  “In love?”

  “No, you know what I mean. Infatuated.”

  “Uh huh.” Clémence raised her eyebrows a few times to tease her and Celine groaned.

  “You’re so embarrassing.”

  After Celine went back to her post at the front door with the other hostess, Clémence went into the kitchen to work on the desserts.

  “How’s the investigation going?” Berenice asked brightly.

  Sebastien perked up with interest as well, his attention momentarily diverted from pistachio éclairs.

  Clémence told them about Lara and the lipstick.

  “You could be on to something,” said Berenice. “So you’re not going to tell the police about Lara?”

  “Maybe they already know. But I figure if I talk to her under the pretence that I’m looking for a cleaner, maybe she’ll be off her guard and tell me something she wouldn’t tell the police.”

  “Now you’re thinking like a sleuth,” said Berenice. “Just be careful.”

  “My tenant Ben will be next door if anything,” said Clémence.

  “Ben, huh? Is he cute?”

  Clémence described that he was the tall artsy type.

  “But I can’t date him,” said Clémence. “He’s a tenant. It’ll be awkward.”

  “Is it also because he’s poor?” Sebastien asked.

  “No. It’s just weird to be dating someone living in the same building. And I’ll be seeing him all the time. He does laundry at my place.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” asked Berenice.

  “I need boundaries. Don’t you guys?” Clémence figured this was the perfect opportunity to get Sebastien’s dating status. “For example, dating at the workplace. Wouldn’t you guys think it’s odd? You’ll have to see that person all the time if you break up.”

  Sebastien shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” said Berenice. “If he’s cute. Raoul’s pretty cute. I’d date him if he asked me.”

  “What about you, Seb? Who’d you date here?”