Croissant Murder (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) (11 page)

Then, with a twist of the knob, she was in.
 

Chapter 15

“Hello?” Clémence called out. “Mathieu? Gilles? Anybody home?”
 

Unless the baby ghost was around, she was alone. As she passed the studio, a canvas on one of the easels caught her eye. Mathieu must’ve started a new painting. He’d only done the background, shades of red, orange and gold that looked achingly familiar. Why was Mathieu working on a small landscape painting when he was supposed to be finishing his series of portraits? The style was different too. His brushstrokes were usually bold and precise, while these were softer and more diluted, giving it a dreamy quality.
 

In the kitchen, she took a small sandwich bag from the drawer and grabbed a cutting knife. Her plan was to go directly to the Mercier painting, scrape a teensy sample of it into the bag so she could test the authenticity of the painting.
 

She headed up the stairs, and that was when she saw it: the small framed photograph on the mantelpiece. She picked up the photo of the man stroking a tamed tiger. It was Gilles, his hair in a buzz cut. He had on the same glasses and had the same nondescript face as the man Clémence had noticed earlier at Christie’s. He’d looked especially pleased when the Mercier had sold for such a high price.
 

Mathieu did say that Gilles was out of town. But she’d seen him in Paris earlier that day. Had Mathieu lied to her again?
 

Mercier paintings…Gilles…Charlotte…they were all connected, but what was Gilles’s connection to Charlotte exactly? Did he kill her? If so, why?

She could look in Gilles’s room for clues. She went upstairs and tried the door. It was locked. What could he be hiding in that room?
 

Clémence bent down to look closely at the lock. It wasn’t something that could be picked easily. And from what she remembered from the outside, the opaque curtains of his window were completely drawn.
 

Something stirred in her head, a possible formation of an explanation. But Clémence needed more information. She called a cab to pick her up from the house to take her back into central Paris.
 

She might just make it to her art class at the Spinoza Atelier. Not that she was there to paint, as much as she wanted to. She needed to catch her classmate, Amelie. Clémence didn’t have her number, and Amelie could really help her.
 

On the second floor of the building, Clémence reached Room Five just as students were spilling out.
 

“Clémence,” Albert exclaimed. “Look Rita, Clémence is back.”
 

Albert and Rita were her classmates. Both in their sixties, they were an old married couple, both talented painters with different styles.

“We haven’t seen you in so long,” Rita said with a kind smile. “We heard you were kidnapped. Are you okay?”

“It was a bit of a bother,” Clémence joked. “But I’m totally fine.”
 

“We figured you needed a break to deal with everything,” Rita said. “Will you be back for the next class?”
 

“Certainly. At least, if all goes well. Hey, was Amelie in class today? I need to talk to her.”
 

“Yes, she’s inside, packing.”
 

Just then the girl in question came out carrying her tote bag of art supplies. At twenty, Amelie was studying art restoration and she was taking painting classes as a hobby. At the sight of Clémence, her green eyes lit up in surprise.

“Clémence, hey! I was wondering when you’d be back.”
 

Like the others, Amelie also expressed surprise and concern about what she’d read about her in the news, but Clémence assured her, as with everyone, that all was well.

“Actually, I’m here to see you,” Clémence said. “I need your help.”

“My help?”
 

“You study art restoration, right?”
 

“Yes.”
 

“I need to authenticate a painting, a valuable Mercier painting, to see whether it’s real or a forgery. I have a picture of it and I’ve taken some paint samples.” Clémence gave her the photograph and the sample in the Ziplock bag. “Do you know anybody from your program, perhaps a peer or a professor who can run some tests?”
 

“I have a professor who’s a renowned art expert, so sure, it’s possible. We have the technology to do that. Have you found a Mercier that you think is a fake?”
 

“It’s a friend’s,” Clémence said. “But it’s actually quite urgent that I find out. When do you think you can do this?”
 

“I was just going to a class right now, actually. I’m sure I can ask my professor, if he’s at his office today. Maybe we can start on it tomorrow.”
 

“Great! I’ll owe you big time, Amelie.”
 

“It’ll be my pleasure. It’ll actually be a fun, hands-on learning experience. No problem.”

Clémence beamed and gave Amelie a hug. “Thanks so much!”
 

Now that authenticating the painting was taken care of, Clémence had another person to visit: Sarah.
 

Chapter 16

The world-famous Galerie Lafayette department store sold everything from high-end clothing to home furnishings and gourmet food. The ten-storey building’s Bell Epoque architecture was dazzling, and the dramatic colored dome had all the tourists looking up and snapping pictures as soon as they stepped inside.
 

The perfume and cosmetics section, where Clémence would find Sarah, was on the ground floor. Clémence spotted her at the Marcus Savin perfume counter, smiling and talking to two customers. Sarah’s cheeks were plumper due to her slight weight gain, but Clémence didn’t think the remnants of her pregnancy weight made her any less beautiful. For so long, Clémence had hated her while finding her intimidatingly gorgeous, but now Sarah seemed to be radiant. Perhaps it was because she had become a mother.
 

As Clémence approached her, she felt shy. She’d prepared what she was going to say, but speaking to Sarah would still be awkward.

At the counter, Clémence pretended to look at the beautiful glass bottles of Marcus Savin’s perfumes. Clémence knew the designer, and didn’t realize that his perfumes were so popular that they warranted their own stall in Galerie Lafayette. When Sarah finished ringing up a customer’s order, she turned her attention to Clémence.
 

“Sarah?” Clémence faked surprise.
 

“Yes.” Sarah blinked at her before recognition lit her eyes. “Oh, Clémence? Hi.”
 

“Hi.”
 

Sarah gave her a shy smile, then told her she’d been reading a lot about her. Clémence answered the usual kidnapping questions and made small talk.
 

“I love these perfumes,” she said. Marcus had sent her some of his clothes and three bottles of his perfumes last week as a gift, so Clémence wasn’t lying.

“So do I,” Sarah replied.

“Oh. Is that why you’re working here?” Clémence hoped she didn’t sound patronizing because she wasn’t trying to be. Sarah only smiled again sweetly, and didn’t seem to take it the wrong way.

“Honestly, I’m working here because I need the money.” Sarah laughed.
 

Clémence felt more at ease with Sarah being so frank with her. “Growing up, I always thought it would be fun to work here.”
 

“It can be. You get to meet a lot of interesting people. And there’s the discounts.”

“Discounts are always good,” Clémence said. “I heard you had a baby, so congratulations.”
 

“Thanks.” She flashed her pearly white teeth once again. “Who told you? Mathieu?”
 

“Yes,” Clémence lied.
 

“I thought Mathieu didn’t want people to know, but I suppose you’re not just anyone. He told me he got in touch with you again.”
 

“It’s been fun to catch up. All that stuff’s in the past, so why not be friends?”
 

“Exactly,” Sarah said. “That’s my attitude.”
 

“But why doesn’t Mathieu want people to know he has a daughter?”
 

“He says wants to establish himself as a young painter. I don’t know why exactly, but he says it’s important for his career. And it’s not as if anybody’s writing about us these days anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
 

“Did his girlfriend know?”
 

“He has a girlfriend?” Sarah asked.
 

“Oh, you didn’t know?”
 

“No. I know he dates sometimes, but he never told me about a girlfriend.”
 

“Well, Sarah,” Clémence said. “I’m glad I ran into you because there are some things I want to tell you. Mathieu’s girlfriend was an art gallery assistant named Charlotte Lagrange and she was killed recently. Shot in the head.”
 

Clémence gave her the full story and told her about how Charlotte had been keen on Mercier paintings, while Gilles owned one. “I think Mathieu’s roommate is connected to her murder somehow. What do you know about him?”
 

“Gilles?” Sarah’s expression soured. “I’ve only met him a few times. To tell you the truth, he gives me the creeps, the way he leers at me. You don’t think he killed this girl, do you?”
 

“I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out. What can you tell me about him?”
 

“Mathieu moved in with him about three months ago. I don’t know how he met Gilles exactly. Mathieu mentioned something about meeting him at a party.”

“Have you been over to Mathieu’s house a lot since he moved there?”
 

Sarah shook her head. “Just when I’m dropping Joy—she’s our baby—at his house on Saturdays, when he gets her all day. He doesn’t really want to let me see the place. He says it’s because he’s working on some new paintings and doesn’t want anyone to see them.”

“So he’s able to take care of the baby by himself?”
 

“Sure. Mathieu’s a good father. I’m iffy about the baby being around this roommate, though. Something about him is just so slick.”
 

“He’s out of town at the moment, isn’t he?” Clémence asked. “For the whole month?”
 

“Not as far as I know. When I dropped off Joy last Saturday, I saw him. He didn’t see me, though, because I left before he could spot me and start leering.”
 

“Oh, that’s funny. I thought Gilles was in London.”
At least that’s what Mathieu claims
, Clémence thought.
 

“I wish he was in London, so he’d stop coming in here to flirt with me.”
 

“He does that?” Clémence asked.

“Sometimes. Whenever he’s in the neighborhood.”
 

“When was he here last?”
 

“Two days ago. Just hanging around the stall, asking me questions about perfumes and not buying anything.”
 

Gilles was definitely in town. The question was, why was Mathieu trying to hide him from her?
 

Chapter 17

Galerie Lafayette’s rooftop terrace was the place to be to enjoy an ice cream and pass the afternoon with friends. As the sunny weather streak was still going strong, locals and tourists had the same idea. Clémence bought a chocolate cone and waited for Mathieu to show up. She took in the sweeping view of the city. The back of the Opera Garnier could be seen, as well as Clémence’s good friend, La Tour Eiffel, hanging back in the distance.
 

You could call Paris a lot of things, but you couldn’t call it ugly,
she thought. It was a shame that the people had to ruin a place of beauty by committing heinous crimes.
 

When Mathieu showed up, she’d long since finished her cone. He was beaming. Should he be looking this happy only days after his girlfriend’s death? Perhaps he’d forgotten that he was supposed to be in mourning.

After he greeted her with
bisous
, kisses that lingered seductively close to her mouth, Clémence said, “Hey, it’s funny. I ran into Sarah downstairs. I didn’t know she worked here.”
 

“Oh, Sarah. Right. She does. You met her?” He looked concerned.

“She helped me with some perfumes. But I didn’t end up buying anything. We did have a chat though.”
 

His smile faltered. “You didn’t talk about me, did you?”
 

“What’s there to talk about?” she joked.

He laughed in response. He looked relieved. Too relieved. “Phew. Two ex-girlfriends coming together—that could’ve been lethal.”

“What’s the news with your gallery?”
 

“They’re going to reach a decision by tomorrow,” he said. “Fingers crossed. There’s a pretty good chance they’ll show my work. They’re a great gallery. It’ll certainly boost my reputation.”
 

“I’m sure you’ll get it,” Clémence said. “You’re good at what you do.”