Baguette Murder: Book 3 (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) (5 page)

“It would help to go through his emails,” said Arthur.

“I hope they do find something,” said Clémence. “Although I just don’t know with St. Clair.”

“
Il est idiot,
” Arthur said.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

So where’s this Paolo guy?”
 

“
Chhutt
.” Clémence shushed him.
 

“Relax,” said Arthur. “Everyone’s involved with their headsets and computers. We don’t even exist to them.”
 

Just then Clémence noticed the lanky figure of Inspector Cyril St. Clair. He was going into one of the offices on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t seem to have noticed Clémence, and she was relieved, because he would’ve probably caused a scene and try to kick her out and prevent her from investigating.

“He must be interrogating the boss,” said Clémence. “Come on.”
 

Nobody glanced their way as they walked across the room to the big offices where the walls and doors were also made of glass. Everybody seemed to put on an illusion of privacy, especially when everything was on display for all to see. Clémence picked up some papers from a recycling bin on the way to the office where she saw Cyril enter. The paper she would simply hold in her hand. She planned on standing close to the door with Arthur. In case anyone walked past them, they could pretend that they were discussing something in the documents.

It was a very stressful work environment. Phones were ringing, numerous voices were chatting away at once, and there was the gurgling sound of the espresso machine coming from the break room. Everybody was hopped up on caffeine. Since the office door was made out of glass, she couldn’t stand in front of it to eavesdrop; it was too difficult to make out what Cyril and the boss were saying.

“I don’t think the people here got the memo about Pierre’s death yet,” Clémence said to Arthur.

“Maybe they did and they just don’t care.”
 

“No, St. Clair’s probably just breaking the news now. It’s only a matter of time before word gets out. We have to find Paolo and find out what we can before St. Clair tries to interrogate him.”
 

Clémence looked carefully at every employee. There must’ve been over fifty people. Then finally, she spotted Paolo, walking in their direction. He wore a gray Italian cut suit, a white dress shirt and an electric blue tie; he was by far the best dressed man in the office. He was a lot more fit in person. His built suggested that he spent some time in the gym.

“That’s him,” Clémence whispered.

“Who? Paolo?” Arthur spun around so suddenly that he caught Paolo’s attention. Clémence sighed. Why did Arthur have to be so obvious about it?

“
Bonjour,
” Paolo greeted them. He was all square white teeth. “Are you two new? I haven’t seen you in the office before. I’m Paolo.”
 

“
Je suis
, uh,
Edouard
,” Arthur said, shaking his offered hand. Paolo’s gaze lingered on him a second longer before he shook Clémence’s hand. She introduced herself as Juliette.

“We don’t work here,” said Clémence. “We’re actually friends of Pierre’s. Pierre Colombier, do you know him?”
 

“Yes, I know him. Is anything the matter with him? It’s not like him to miss work.”

He was looking at Arthur even when she had been the one talking.
 

“He’s ill,” said Arthur.

“He must be severely ill,” said Paolo. “I’ve seen him come into work when he was sick. Is everything okay?”
 

“Fine,” Clémence lied. “He’s just getting over the flu.”
 

“The flu? In late spring? That’s bad luck.”
 

“Yes.” Arthur nodded. “We work close by and we just wanted to pick up a few things for Pierre so he can work from his bed.”
 

Paolo nodded and laughed. “Classic Pierre. He works even when he’s dying.”
 

Clémence and Arthur managed to laugh back. If Paolo only knew.

“What could you possibly pick up?” Paolo asked “The guy’s so secretive that he always takes home everything he brings.”
 

“Pierre mentioned something about, uh, the documents from the latest project that he’s working on?” Clémence said.
 

“Ah, you mean the Madison project We were supposed to work on it together, but Pierre threw a fit as usual and demanded we both go our own ways to tackle it separately. Don’t tell me he wants to see what I have so soon.”
 

“He does,” said Clémence. “You know Pierre.”
 

“Believe me, I do.”
 

Paolo led them to his desk, which, in contrast to Pierre’s, was a tornado of a mess. From the thick files, the binders and books all in chaotic piles, he was somehow able to find he was looking for rather quickly.
 

“Here. It’s a draft of what I have so far. Pierre can tell me what he thinks.” He cringed. “Or maybe I should give him a call, you know, to be courteous.”
 

“No,” Arthur cut in. “He’s not taking calls at the moment.”
 

“Phew,” said Pierre. “I mean, I’m sorry he’s sick, but he’s a little high strung, you know? Not exactly someone you want to spend on the phone because he’ll basically bark orders at you.”

He chuckled again and Clémence joined in.
 

“We’re friends of his, so we don’t know what he’s like at work,” she said.

“Oh, I’m his co-worker so I don’t know what he’s like as a friend,” Paolo joked. “He’s a bit hard to get to know. Maybe it’s just the French work environment. How do you know him again?”
 

“My friend Rose is his girlfriend.”
 

“Ah, so you’re not really a friend of Pierre’s.”
 

“Honestly, we don’t know him that well either,” Clémence admitted.

“Is it different here from the Italian work environment?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, you can tell by my accent that I’m Italian?” Paolo eyed Arthur flirtatiously. “I guess it’s quite strong. In Italy, it’s not so competitive that co-workers are openly hostile. Maybe hostile is a strong word. I think Pierre is the type to get his own way, and nobody else can get in his way. At the same time, I do kind of admire him because it’s taken him far in such a short amount of time.”

“I heard he’s up for a promotion to be your boss,” said Clémence.
 

“It’s a high possibility.” Paolo was still making eyes at Arthur and moving in on him. Arthur leaned back against the glass wall. “Honestly, I know he’s your friend, but I would probably transfer if that were to happen. It’s hard enough being his co-worker. It’s unfortunate that he’s so hard to work with because he sure is a looker.”
 

Paolo gave Arthur a wink. Arthur pressed his lips together and turned to Clémence. She’d never seen him look so uncomfortable.

“Yes, he’s quite handsome, isn’t he?” Clémence couldn’t suppress a smile. “So who else finds Pierre to be a pain in the ass in this office? Or are there people who actually like him?”

“Pierre’s a bit of a Hitler around here,” Paolo said. “We don’t take it personally. That’s just his personality. Maybe it would be a different story if we were to get to know him outside of work.”

“I do think Pierre can be quite antisocial,” Clémence agreed.
 

“We’re his minions really. I feel sorry for Mary, his assistant. She gets it the worst.”
 

“Who is Mary anyway?”

Paolo looked around. His gaze followed a petite, bored looking brunette who was walking toward the office where St. Clair was currently in. Clémence wondered if she was going to be called in and questioned about the murder. They didn’t have much time before the news of Pierre’s murder really spread.

“That’s her?” Clémence asked.

“Yes,” said Paolo. “But it looks like she’s busy. She just went into our boss’s office.”
 

“Well, we better go,” Arthur said. “We got what we came for. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Paolo gave him a sly smile. “It was lovely meeting you.”
 

As Clémence exited through the glass door and Arthur followed, Paolo called after them.

“Wait. Edouard? Can I speak to you for just a minute?”
 

“
Moi?
” Arthur looked flustered. “Um, sure.”
 

“I’ll wait for you in the hall.” Clémence grinned.

She wondered what Paolo would say, but she had a pretty good idea.

CHAPTER 7

When Arthur came out of the office, his face was as pink as his shirt.
 

“So what did he want?” Clémence asked with a sly smile.

He quickly pressed the elevator button a few times with force.

“He wanted to have dinner,” Arthur muttered.

Clémence laughed. “He asked you out? I knew it! What did you say?”
 

“I turned him down of course! Why would he think I’m gay?”
 

Clémence raised an eyebrow and eyed the fuchsia sweater tied around his pink shirt.

“Studies have proved that men who wear pink are more confident,” he said. “That guy must not know that only men of a certain class can pull off pink.”
 

“Really, you should be flattered, a good looking guy like that?”
 

Arthur snapped his head at her. “You think he’s good looking?”
 

“He’s not bad. Too bad he swings for your team.”
 

Arthur groaned. “When we go out for lunch, you’re paying.”
 

“Hey, who said I agreed to go out to lunch with you?”
 

“After this, you really owe me, Damour.”
 

“You brought this on yourself.” Clémence laughed. “I didn’t even want you to come in the first place. But at least we got some information. Paolo doesn’t seem to be involved, don’t you think?”

“I doubt it too.”
 

“I have to admit that it did help for you to be there, since he was so friendly and open with you. I do wish I had spoken to Mary. We might have to come back.”

“We?” Arthur exclaimed. “I’m never coming back here again.”
 

“And you were so enthused about helping me with the case earlier.”

“You’re on your own, doll.”
 

When they got into the elevator alone together, again, Clémence started giggling at the whole situation. “You really made my day, Arthur.”

“Laugh now, Damour, but you’ll pay at lunch.”
 

“If you really want a free meal, I’m sure Paolo would be more than happy to take you.”

Arthur pinched Clémence on the arm. “It’s true though. If I were gay, I’d attract the hottest men. How could you say no to lunch with a guy like me?”
 

Clémence raised an eyebrow at him. She gave him a once-over and pretended to consider it. “Persistence pays off, Dubois. Fine, I’ll go to lunch with you. Just lunch.”

She figured she’d give him a chance. When Arthur was uncomfortable, she thought he was kind of cute. Maybe she had a sadistic streak because she loved to see him squirm.
 

“What kind of food do you like?” he asked. “Do you like sushi?”

“Love it,” said Clémence.

“Great. I’ll text you when I find a good restaurant.”

Arthur went to the fourth floor for his meeting. When she took the Métro home, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And she started to worry about their lunch date. Did she really agree to date Arthur? He claimed that he stopped serial dating, but could she really trust him? Could she really trust herself? If this was going to work, she would have to place some boundaries, some old fashioned rules. For one, she would not jump into bed with him. Not until he told her that he loved her, and she had ways of telling if a guy really meant it or not. She wanted to get to know him better first and that would take time. She doubted that he ever tried to get to know his former girlfriends before he slept with them. Did they even have anything in common? She knew nothing about macroeconomics and he didn’t know much about patisseries and painting except, like everybody else in France, he liked to eat pastries and go to museums every so often. They shared a few misadventures in crime solving—that seemed to be their common bond. When the murders stopped, then what?

Clémence couldn’t believe she worked herself into this type of obsessive thinking again. It was just lunch. And she should really be focusing all her attention on Pierre’s murder. St. Clair seemed to be having a grip on the situation; he thought in the same vein as she had, questioning his co-workers first. She wondered what he thought of Mary, and what Mary had to say about Pierre.
 

When she went home, Berenice was replaced by Rose’s mother Diane.
 

“Bonjour Clémence.” Diane gave Clémence bisous on the cheeks.

Diane smelled like Dior perfume, her signature scent. She looked like the older version of her daughter. Both women had big brown eyes and dirty blonde hair. Diane’s hair was cut in a cool shaggy do, but unfortunately she had gone the Californian housewife route of injecting her lips with fillers. Clémence thought she looked better before, but she didn’t want to judge. Some women needed to do something in order to feel attractive as they got older.
 

“When I called Rose this morning, she told me everything, and I took the taxi straight over. I hope you don’t mind.”
 

“Of course not. I’m glad you’re here. Where is Berenice?”
 

“She got called into work. Rose had a stomachache after lunch and she’s napping to sleep it off. I want her to stay in Romainville with me, but she seems adamant about staying in Paris for the time being. She says you’re helping the police investigate who really killed Pierre?”
 

“I am,” Clémence confirmed, “but I don’t know if it’s the best thing for Rose to stay here. Maybe it would be better for her to go to Romainville so she can grieve.”
 

“I know. I’ve told her, but she wouldn’t go, and I don’t want to leave her alone. I mean what a terrible ordeal. Pierre murdered? Good heavens.”