Crêpe Murder: Book 4 (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) (9 page)

“
Bonjour
,” a beautiful blond saleswoman in her forties greeted her. “I saw you admiring the new gown at the window. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”
 

“Stunning,” Clémence agreed. She turned to look at the back of the dress, and it was lovely from that angle too.
 

The dress had an open back, with the silk meeting at a V at the waistline. The lavender silk fabric was so delicate and pretty, while the cut-outs at the sides of the waist gave it a modern edge.
 

“Do you want to try it on?” the woman asked.

Clémence bit her lip. She was supposed to look good enough to stay under the radar, but this dress was a show-stopper. Maybe it wouldn’t look as good on her, and there was no harm in trying it on. “Well, okay.”
 

“We have it in your size. Do you want to take a look around while I get the change room ready for you?”
 

“
Oui, merci.
”
 

“
Je m’appelle Vivien
. Ask me if you have any questions.”
 

As she looked through the other dresses, including a pink mini dress and a navy off-the-shoulder number, she was positive that she would walk away with something from Marcus Savin. How come she’d never heard of the talented designer before?

“How long has this store been here?” Clémence asked Vivien when she came back.
 

“Just a little over a year, although he opened his first store in New York four years ago. Marcus has been designing for over a decade. He’s worked at Gucci and Chloe, but he started his own line five years ago, and it’s been going strong since.”
 

“He’s certainly talented.”
 

“This black dress would look good on you too.” Vivien took out a more modest dress from the rack to show her. “What kind of party are you going to?”
 

“It’s a black-tie event at the Grand Palais.”

“Oh, Marcus Savin is going to that party tonight as well.”

“Really? I wanted to ask, is there a way to get in touch with Marcus?”
 

“What do you want to get in touch with him about?”
 

“It involves a mutual friend, Livia Egle. It’s kind of personal, but important.”
 

“Well,” Vivien considered. “Why don’t you try on the dress first and I’ll see what I can do.”
 

Clémence obliged. She had a little trouble getting into the dress at first because the zippers were hidden within the silk folds. She also had to be careful not to rip the dress because it seemed so fragile. When she came out, she couldn’t believe her reflection in the mirror. She twirled, trying to admire herself from all angles.
 

It wasn’t that Clémence thought she was particularly beautiful; the dress was the spectacular one, and it seemed to be made for her. The lavender brought out the pink in her cheeks, livened up her pale skin, and was a flattering contrast to her dark sleek bob. The silk felt lovely on her skin, and it was draped over her 5’4” frame, falling to the floor with just enough drama, but not too much length that she couldn’t walk without tripping all over herself.
 

Somebody clapped behind her.

“Bravo. That’s how this dress should be worn.”
 

Clémence turned to face the male speaker. A dashing man in a charcoal suit and a blue bow tie walked down the staircase, following Vivien. He had a thin mustache above his lip and his hair was dark and waxy, parted and neatly gelled like an old-fashioned movie star.

“Surprise. This is the designer himself,” Vivien introduced. “Marcus Savin.”
 

Clémence smiled brightly and shook the handsome man’s hand. “You’re very talented. Lovely to meet you. I’m Clémence Damour.”
 

“Vivien tells me that you’re going to the Grand Palais party tonight.”
 

“Yes, I am.”
 

“So am I.” He examined her. “Are you somebody I’m supposed to know?”

“Er, I don’t think so. Why?”
 

“Are you an actress?”
 

“
Moi?
” Clémence blushed. “No way.”

“I thought you were an actress because you’re too short to be a model. That’s too bad, because I could use a girl like you to walk in my next show. It’s a pity that the industry is so keen on using giraffes instead.”
 

Clémence laughed. She liked Marcus already. There was something refreshing about his bluntness and dry humor. “No, I work at
Damour
. Have you heard of the patisseries?”
 

“Oh wait, you’re Clémence Damour. Of course! I thought your face looked familiar. I think I’ve seen you in
Paris Match
once. I buy macarons from your store all the time, and I’m obsessed with your
pains au chocolat
.”

“Thank you.”
 

“What happened to you? Didn’t you used to go out with that artist guy, Mathieu something?”
 

“That was me. You know all this?”
 

“Sure, I keep tabs on who’s who in this town. I see him in the papers sometimes, but not you. What happened?”
 

“Well, I was never big on the socialite scene. The only reason I’m going to the party tonight is to meet Livia Egle.”
 

“Livia? I know her, although I haven’t seen her in ages. I designed her wedding dress four years ago, although her marriage lasted less than all the time it took for me to make the darn dress! Why do you want to meet her?”

“Are you a close friend of hers?”
 

“Close? Well, I would’ve said so a few years ago. We’re still friends now and she has always been a great supporter of my brand, but she’s also someone who dropped off the face of the earth last year, right after her, you know, unfortunate incident.”
 

“The kidnapping?”

“Poor girl, who could blame her really. It must’ve been terrifying, but she refuses to talk about it.”
 

“Do you know Sophie Seydoux?” asked Clémence.
 

“Yes, she’s an acquaintance. I’ve dressed her before.”
 

“Well, did you know that she’s been kidnapped?”

Marcus gasped. “No. She has? Recently?”
 

Clémence nodded. “Allegedly by the same man who kidnapped Livia. It’s why I want to talk to her. Can you please help me get in touch with her? I’m a friend of Sophie’s family, and we want to find out more about the kidnapper and Livia’s experiences with him.”

“Okay, wow.” Marcus thought about it for a moment. “I can try calling her now.”
 

Marcus pulled out his cell phone and made the call, but he left what sounded like a voicemail message.
 

“Not there?”
 

“Led me straight to voicemail. Her phone must be turned off. She does that throughout the entire flight when she’s flying, just in case. Her cousin died in a plane crash when she was young, so she gets paranoid about flying. If she calls back, I can give her your number.”
 

“That would be great.” Clémence wrote it down for him.
 

“My condolences to Sophie’s family. When did this happen?”
 

“She went missing as early as Friday.”

“I didn’t know.”
 

“It’s not public knowledge yet. It’s unfortunate because there’s nothing much we can do.”
 

Marcus nodded. “If she doesn’t call back, I’ll introduce you tonight. Tell me you’re going in that dress.”
 

“It’s beautiful, but maybe
too
beautiful. Maybe I’ll try on the black.”
 

“Honey, the black would of course look great on you too, but my lavender dress is made for you. Tell you what. Why don’t I let you borrow the dress for the night?”
 

“What? You don’t have to do that.”
 

“Yes, I insist. It’s more for by business than for you. You’re going to be photographed in the dress, and you’re the perfect person to sell it. Trust me, it’s more for my benefit than yours.”
 

“Well…” Clémence examined herself in the dress again. She would be photographed, wouldn’t she?
 

She had mixed feelings about being in the spotlight. People could be so cruel sometimes. She was never that famous, but Marcus was making it sound as if she was an A-lister who would be catapulting him to fame instead of the other way around. Still, the offer was tempting. If she bought the dress, it wasn’t as if she would wear it again after she’d been photographed in it and it would’ve been money wasted.
 

“Okay, I accept. Thank you so much Marcus.”
 

“No problem. Vivien will help you wrap up the dress at the cash. I’m sure you’re going to be absolutely stunning. I’ll see you tonight.”
 

CHAPTER 12

The makeup artist finished working on Clémence’s face as Madeleine got her hair done. Madelein’s long brown hair was in loose waves, and one side was pinned up with a diamond barrett. She wore a matching diamond necklace and a silver vintage Chanel dress.

Clémence’s hair was a challenge to work into a style other than her current bob. The dress was gorgeous enough on its own, so the hair stylist only straightened her hair. Her makeup was kept simple and glowing.

Their dates had been ready long ago. Arthur and Henri were sitting in the living room wearing dashing tuxedos, drinking beer and watching a soccer game on TV.

When the girls stepped out from Madeleine’s bedroom, the boys stood up. Madeleine’s boyfriend Henri must’ve been used to seeing Madeleine all glammed up because he only made a small comment about how pretty she was and turned back to the TV.
 

Arthur on the other hand couldn’t stop staring.
 

“Cut it out,” Clémence said, laughing.

“Wow, that dress on you…wow.”
 

Clémence blushed. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
 

“Extremely early, you mean.” Henri said.

Madeleine had a limousine drive the four of them to the Grand Palais.
 

The Grand Palais was an exhibition hall in the 8
^th
arrondissement that hosted various art and photography exhibitions throughout the year. The architecture of the building was both classical and modern, with a stone facade and art nouveau ironwork. With its glass barrel-vaulted roof, the Grand Palais always reminded Clémence of a fancy and massive green house.

When they pulled up behind a pile of other limos and cars, they could see the red carpet rolled out by the grand entrance, and the photographers who lined around it, behind the velvet rope.
 

“Have you ever been to this kind of thing?” Clémence asked Arthur.

“
Jamais
,” said Arthur. “Never. I rarely get invited to these things, and when I do, I ignore them.”
 

Clémence smiled. Arthur was a bit anti-social, but that was what she liked about him. For someone in his social class, he was unfazed by the superficial things that impressed others, unlike Mathieu, whom she was still worried she would run into.

They thought they were going to be early, but apparently they were right on time. The cameras were blinding, and Clémence tried to smile through it all. This was more overwhelming than any event she’d been to in the past. She was holding Arthur’s hand very tightly. She couldn’t tell whose hand was sweating more.
 

Arthur found it difficult to muster a smile for the cameras, despite the paparazzi telling him to do so. He wasn’t the type to smile on command. When they walked up the stairs behind Madeleine and Henri into the front doors of the Grand Palais, she was relieved beyond words. She didn’t know how real celebrities do it. They must’ve had to use extra-strong antiperspirants too.
 

The inside was air-conditioned and she started to cool down. Livia’s family had sponsored the “The Royal Jewels”, an exhibit which featured extravagant jewelry from members of the royal family all across Europe.
 

The first thing that greeted them in the grand hall was a striking piece of modern art: a giant fake diamond hung from the ceiling. It must’ve been over 25 feet tall. A full orchestra played Beethoven’s fourth symphony on the stage, above the great staircase. Clémence looked around for Livia Egle. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

They each took a glass of champagne from the bar and admired the space. Clémence hadn’t been inside the Grand Palais for years and had forgotten just how awe-inspiring it was. If the Grand Palais was a massive greenhouse, she was a humble lavender flower. Red and blue lights projected onto the glass roof. When the sky became completely dark, it was going to look incredible to the pedestrians outside.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” said Madeleine. “I haven’t been here since the Chanel fashion show. There’s always something crazy and interesting happening here.”
 

“If only that was real.” Clémence pointed to the huge diamond suspended in the air.
 

The girls admired the diamond tiaras, the glittering necklaces and the rings, each enclosed in separate glass cases.
 

“Diamonds are princesses objectified,” said Madeleine, who was wearing a lovely diamond necklace herself. She leaned in to whisper to Clémence, “I just hope that when Henri proposes, the ring will be as pretty as that one.”
 

She pointed to a square pink diamond lined with smaller diamonds that belonged to a Swedish princess.

“Every girl deserves a diamond,” said Clémence. “Because every girl is a princess.”
 

Madeleine smiled at her. “You have a generous heart, you know that?”
 

“It’s just the champagne talking,” Clémence joked.

“Are you getting some ideas?” Arthur and Henri walked to the girls.
 

“
Oui
,” Madeleine said. “We were just window shopping.”