Croissant Murder (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) (9 page)

The girls took their places and waited. Madeleine lit a cigarette and smoked, along with everybody else who was sitting outside. There were still fifteen minutes to go until Sarah would show up, so Madeleine played around on her smartphone.
 

Clémence was tempted to order a chocolate crepe. But she’d already eaten a
pain au chocolat
that day, so per her one-dessert-a-day limit, she settled on a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
 

When she’d drunk most of the juice, Sarah finally showed up. In gray pants and a white dress shirt, Clémence could see Sarah had gained a little bit of weight. Was this why she wasn’t modeling as much anymore? Her long hair was tied into a bun and her face was made up; Sarah was still just as beautiful as Clémence remembered.
 

Madeleine called her on the phone. Clémence muted her phone and started recording the conversation.

Madeleine and Sarah made a fuss greeting each other, making small talk and complimenting one another, as Clémence had done with Madeleine earlier. The waiter took their drink orders, and Madeline immediately turned back to Sarah, “It’s been so long. How have you been?
Where
have you been?”
 

Sarah shrugged, a weary smile on her face. “Oh, you know. I’m still modeling, but I found it a little desensitizing. I’m disillusioned with it. In fact, I grew to hate it. I’ve tried it for a good year and a half in Paris, but it’s not the career for me.”
 

“Why not?”
 

“I don’t know. I hate being treated like a clothes hanger. Or a piece of meat. Sometimes I have to go to castings and they ask me to strip on the spot.”
 

“What about acting? That’s at least a little bit more humanizing.”
 

“Well, I’m not good in front of the cameras. I can’t act. You know how shy I am. Plus, I’m Irish. My French is not the best. To do that I’d have to go to the UK, move altogether.”
 

“So why don’t you? Unless there’s someone keeping you here.”
 

“No.” Sarah laughed. “I’m going through kind of a dry spell, actually.”
 

“Nobody at all? A gorgeous girl like you? Are you still hung up on Mathieu?”
 

“No. We’re better off apart.”
 

“I heard he’s moved on with some girl who works at an art gallery or something,” Madeleine said. “You’re not a teensy bit jealous?”
 

“Our relationship just wasn’t meant to be. I felt it. Sure, I’m a bit hurt that he’s moved on so fast, but I want him to be happy. I’m sure I’ll meet someone when I’m ready for it, too.”
 

“That’s very big of you. Every time I go through a breakup, I’m batshit crazy for weeks, driving everyone around me nuts.”
 

Sarah laughed. “Well, it’s not easy, you know? But I try to be mature about it. Mathieu seems happy, so I’ll just let him be. Like my mother says, when God closes a door, he opens a window.”
 

“Well, who needs guys? What have you been doing for fun lately?”

“Actually, I’ve been pretty busy. To tell you the truth, there’s been a change in my life. It’s big, and it’s partly why I haven’t been going out at all.”
 

Madeleine leaned in. “What is it?”
 

“I had a baby.”
 

“What? No way!”

Sarah nodded. “Yes. She’s my pride and joy. She’s nearly one. I’m lucky that she got into crèche so I’m able to work part-time. Her name is Joy. Do you want to see pictures?”
 

Clémence was stunned. If Sarah had the baby a year ago, then that meant the father was…

“Is she Mathieu’s?” Madeleine asked.

“Yes.”
 

“Oh, my God. How is it being a single mother?”
 

“It’s okay. I’m working at Galeries Lafayette because I want to. I know it doesn’t sound glamorous, but I like it. At least I get to talk to people. It keeps me sane. I’d rather move back to Ireland, but Mathieu needs to be here, and I want my daughter to know her father. He’s had some setbacks, but he says he’s going to get a big break soon so he can take care of us better.”
 

“Right. His career hasn’t done as well as we all predicted.”
 

“He’s certain something big is going to happen soon, though. He says in the next few months, he’ll be wealthy enough to hire a nanny and help me rent a bigger apartment, since Joy lives with me. He really wants us to stay in Paris. I was seriously considering moving back to Ireland before he convinced me. That’s where my family is, and I’d get more help, but I trust Mathieu.”
 

“What does his big break entail?”
 

“Another show, I suppose. He said his roommate Gilles is helping him with something. He has connections in the art world or something.”
 

Clémence still couldn’t believe it. Mathieu was a father? Why hadn’t he told her?

Chapter 12

Clémence was still in shock when Arthur finally called her back.

“Hey, Clémence. Are you okay? What exactly is going on?”
 

Sarah had returned to work at the perfume counter at Galeries Lafayette. After checking in with Clémence, Madeleine had a rendezvous to get to and she’d left as well.
 

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m walking on Boulevard Haussman.”
 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call back until now. I was too mad at you to listen to your voicemail. I didn’t know that Mathieu’s girlfriend was killed.”
 

“When are you going home? Let’s talk in person.”
 

“I’m at the library, but I don’t think I can do any more work today. I’ll meet you at the apartment, then. What were you up to today?”

“Checking up on a lead. She wasn’t the killer, but I found out something interesting. Tell you about it later.”
 

“Okay, I’ll meet you back at home in twenty minutes.”
 

As Clémence passed the serial shoppers on the Boulevard Haussman holding shopping bags from high end retailers, she tried to figure out why Mathieu hadn’t told her he had a daughter. Why was it a secret? Was it because he didn’t want to hurt her further? Maybe he knew she’d once had the desire to marry him and start a family together—back when she was young and naïve, and still loved Mathieu.

She wanted answers from him. But first she had to be with Arthur. He was the man she loved and she wanted him back on her side again.
 

Clémence took the Métro back to Trocadéro Station. The paparazzi weren’t in front of 4 Place du Trocadéro this time. They probably got tired of waiting around for her and gave up. Maybe the best thing she could do was not show up for work. They’d get bored by the waiting and hopefully they’d just stop coming altogether.
 

As she turned onto Avenue Kléber, she spotted Arthur walking just twenty feet ahead. She instantly recognized the back of his head, the swirl of his hair.
 

She resisted the temptation to run up and announce her presence, and maintained her pace to continue watching him from afar. But as he punched in the code to unlock the iron door to the building, she couldn’t help but run up and hug him from behind.

“Clémence,” he exclaimed in surprise. He slowly turned around in her arms.

“Hey you.” She gave him a sheepish smile. They’d been together only the day before, when they’d had that awkward fight, but it felt like forever since she’d seen him. She wasn’t used to sleeping in an empty bed anymore.
 

He let go of the door and faced her. The sun was setting, and the Eiffel Tower was a dusty rose in the distance. He cupped her face and kissed her passionately. Pedestrians passed by, but they didn’t care. They didn’t even care if they were being photographed.

Clémence melted in his arm. This was why she loved him. His unfailing support and his warmth. His trust in her. Not to mention that he smelled good and was sexy as hell.
 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
 

In the tiny elevator, which was barely big enough for two people, they entangled themselves, furiously making out. No words were needed. By the time the doors opened, they were out of breath and at a loss for words anyway.
 

Their relationship was new, but it felt like they’d known each other forever. They fought before their romance had even begun, so it was only natural to make up just as easily. It was also natural to get jealous once in a while. The complications came as part of a committed relationship. They’d make it work as long they both made the other feel special and loved on a regular basis.
 

“I’m sorry about everything,” Clémence said. “I got caught up in my own curiosity, as usual, and consideration of how you were feeling was left in the back burner.”
 

“It’s okay, Clémence. I think I might have overreacted.”
 

Clémence was surprised by the softness of his tone. “Really?”

He nodded. “Mathieu’s girlfriend was killed. That changes things. Of course you’d want to get involved and help.”
 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I swear, I don’t have feelings for Mathieu. Of course, I care about him as a friend, and I want to help him figure out who could do this to Charlotte.”
 

He looked into her eyes, still cupping her face. “I believe you.” He kissed the top of her forehead.
 

She slid the key into her apartment door and punched in the code to turn off the alarm. Miffy greeted them and she gave her a bit of attention before settling in.

In the living room, Arthur poured himself a glass of whiskey. Clémence nursed a cup of water. They sank into the red couches. A chandelier hung over them. There was a nonworking fireplace and a modern painting of Katherine Hepburn above it. Clémence and her mother both loved the legendary actress.
 

She filled Arthur in on everything: the inspector’s visit, Madeleine’s interrogation, and how Sarah and Mathieu had a baby daughter that she didn’t know about.
 

“Sarah’s not the killer,” Clémence said. “There’s a possibility but I very much doubt it.
 

“Why didn’t Mathieu tell you he had a baby?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe he would’ve told me before Charlotte barged in on us.”
 

“Or maybe he purposely kept this from you,” Arthur suggested. “I had the suspicion that he was trying to win you back. Didn’t you think so?”
 

She thought about how Mathieu had looked at her that day in his room, questioning her about whether Arthur was right for her. When Charlotte showed up, she realized he’d only meant he was happy that his girlfriend understood his passion and wanted her to have the same.
 

She shook her head. “He has a girlfriend. Or had one. Why would he?”
 

“Because you’re amazing. And you’ve been in the news lately. Maybe he wants your fame to rub off.”
 

“No way.” Although Mathieu had gotten a name for himself due to her status as an heiress and a socialite.

“And what was with the whole ghost thing?” Arthur said. “A baby handprint? It must’ve been his baby’s handprint.”
 

Clémence’s eyes widened. Of course. The ghost incident had been pushed to the side with all the murder stuff. “That’s true. You’re a genius. It was a very small handprint. It would make sense that it was his own baby’s doing. The baby must’ve been over at his house.”
 

“That’s what’s so strange. If Mathieu had a baby, wouldn’t he come to the conclusion that it’s his own baby’s handprint? When you saw the handprint and noted how small it was, the topic of babies would’ve at least come up. He should’ve told you.”
 

“Unless he doesn’t know that he has a baby.” She thought about what Sarah had said earlier. “But he’s paying child support according to Sarah, and he’s promising her a bigger apartment and a nanny and all that. He must’ve known. Unless Sarah is crazy and delusional.”
 

“One of them is lying.” He cocked his head at her. “Do you think it’s Sarah?”
 

Clémence thought about it. Sarah had no reason to lie—unless she was trying to elicit the sympathy of a well-connected socialite. But Sarah didn’t seem interested in the scene. She didn’t like modeling and being in the spotlight, and seemed more keen on a normal life in Ireland. If she’d wanted to use Madeleine for her connections, she would’ve done so by now instead of happily resigning to working at a perfume counter.

“No,” she answered. “But why would Mathieu lie to me about the ghost?”
 

“He wants to get your attention. Maybe it was an excuse to get you to his place. He knows we’re living together. Everybody knows that. I saw the way he was trying to worm his way into your apartment that night, trying to impress you with his interest in your painting.”
 

Clémence shook her head. “Okay. Let’s not talk about that. Let’s focus on the case. Let’s say Sarah’s innocent. Who would want to kill Charlotte? Who has the most to gain from her death?”
 

“I don’t know. This girl has connections to the art world. What exactly has she been doing for Mathieu? You know, if Mathieu didn’t have an alibi, I would think he was responsible.”
 

“That’s what the inspector thought,” Clémence said. “But like I said, he had an airtight alibi. Besides, what would he have to gain by killing his own girlfriend?”
 

“Mathieu sounds more secretive than he lets on. Suppose Charlotte threatened to reveal something big? After all, he was keeping the baby a secret from you. Maybe she was going to tell you about the baby when he wanted to win you back. You did say that Sarah was angry when you saw her. And she gets murdered on the same night?”

“I can’t imagine what else Mathieu has to hide from me besides the whole baby thing.”