Murder in Aix (The Maggie Newberry Mystery Series Book 5)

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan

  The cobblestone square in front of Le Canard, the village café in St-Buvard, was littered with crisp, brightly colored leaves. As a brisk autumn breeze picked them up and tossed them into an intricate vortex of activity, Grace couldn’t help but think it an animated metaphor for her own life. The thought made her smile. So inane. And if her life was a convoluted crazy-quilt of events and happenings as volatile and random as the wind, then surely she could absolve herself of the very real part she had taken to create the disturbance?

  “You’re smiling. What’s up?”

  Grace turned to look at Maggie. They sat with Danielle Alexandre in slowly deteriorating wicker chairs on the café’s terrace, their food market purchases in string bags at their feet, cooling cups of espressos on the table.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just thinking about my life.”

  “Glad that makes you smile,” Maggie said.

  Grace looked back at the dancing leaves in the square. “Why not?”

  “Your color has come back,” Danielle said.

  That made Grace smile even more. It was such a maternal thing to say. Grace decided she loved the older woman for it.

  “Yeah,” Maggie said, “you blondes can’t afford to lose any color. You’ll have to wear chartreuse, and I know how that would kill you.”

  “I must be feeling better,” Grace said, “if you’re teasing me again.” She picked up her demitasse and brought it to her lips. She had to admit, she felt better. Lately there were a few hours in the day when she actually didn’t feel like shit. And today, not but a few moments ago, she had felt a ghost of a memory of what happiness felt like. It was gone quickly, but it had been there. A memory of sunny days and wine and laughter with good friends. It was hard to have that memory without thinking of Win, too. She wondered if she would ever be able to think of sunny days and wine without thinking of him.

  And wanting to cry.

  “Okay, now you’re starting to lose it again,” Maggie said, watching her over her coffee cup.

  “Take me out from under the microscope, darling,” Grace said, allowing an edge to come through in her voice. “I am what I am. And please, no Popeye references.” She turned to Danielle. “How is Lily Tatois doing? I heard she was ill.”

  Danielle hunched in her thin coat and Grace wondered if she and Jean-Luc were having money problems. The coat was old and unattractive, but perhaps that was just Danielle’s lack of taste showing. It did look like it was a label at least. Just not one from this decade.

  “She is not doing well, I’m afraid. I hate to say that the death of her nephew has been the occasion for us to renew our acquaintance with each other, but that’s the truth. And now that she is dying, she is open to resuming our friendship.”

  “Were you close before?” Maggie asked.

  Danielle shrugged. “We were school girls together but not from the same class. Lily was beautiful and confident and rich. I wasn’t.”

  “But she wants to be friends now?” Grace said as she redirected her gaze across the courtyard to a van laboriously unloading heavy pipes on the sidewalk.

  “I don’t fault her for that,” Danielle said. “It breaks my heart to see her like this.”

  “So is she really going downhill? I thought the doctor gave her three months.”

  “I’m afraid recent events have worn on her.”

  “Yeah, I’ll say,” Maggie said. “Just having Michelle as a member of my family would wear on me, big time.”

  Grace noticed that Danielle seemed to give Maggie a disapproving look and it amused her to see it. In any case, it didn’t seem to bother Maggie, which surprised Grace not one bit.

  “How are you coming on the case?” Grace asked her.

  Maggie’s face brightened. “Well, not great,” she said cheerfully. “I have more suspects than I know what to do with and none of them are of interest to the police, which of course is not a shock, but still.” She turned to Danielle. “Have you ever heard of anyone in town by the name of Mathieu Benoit? He’s truly a dangerous character. I would tell you, Danielle, of how I know that to be true from personal experience but I know how you hate to keep secrets from Jean-Luc, who then hates to keep secrets from Laurent…”

  Danielle put her coffee cup down with a clatter. “If you are doing anything to endanger yourself or that little baby, Maggie Dernier—”

  “I’m not! Jeez, Danielle, take a chill pill.”

  “Maggie is teaching me American idiom.”

  “God, Danielle, I didn’t know you had a sarcastic bone in your body until just this moment,” Grace said, laughing. “I’m glad to see it.”

  Maggie put her hands up as if to defend herself. “I just need to know if you know this guy, Mathieu. Jean-Luc said you know everyone in town, including Avignon, Aix and half of Marseilles.”

  “Mathieu Benoit is the son of a friend of a cousin of mine,” Danielle said primly. Grace could tell Danielle didn’t always know how to react to Maggie. Frankly, Grace thought that that was part of Maggie’s charm.

  “And?” Maggie prompted. “Star student at his high school? Rap sheet a mile long? Come on, Danielle. He looks like he’s already a headliner with Interpol. What’s the gossip?”

  “I don’t listen to gossip, Maggie,” Danielle said, “but Mathieu, I believe, has in fact been a disappointment to his family.”

  “This is like pulling teeth from a chicken.”

  Grace patted Danielle’s hand. “She said chicken, Danielle, because chicken notoriously do not have teeth.”

  “I am aware of Maggie’s legendary impatience,” Danielle said. “But I will not say more than what I know.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” Maggie said. “So if I were to tell you that I’m meeting Mathieu tonight behind the old abandoned boulangerie, just him and me—”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Okay, so spill it. What’s his story?”

  “I never said he was innocent.” Danielle looked at Maggie with real aggravation. Yep, Grace thought with an inner smile. That’s our Maggie. She can make a saint cuss.

  “He is a hothead,” Danielle said. “And very jealous. In fact…I believe he is prone to violence.”

  “Wow, when it rains it pours,” Maggie said, nodding her head at Danielle’s admissions. “Let it all out, Danielle. Could he have killed Jacques?”

  “Do you mean is he capable of it?” Danielle’s face relaxed and Grace saw the faintest hint of a smile coming through. “Aren’t we all?”

  “Some more so than others,” Grace said. “What’s your theory, Maggie?”

  Maggie scooted up to the table as much as her expanded stomach would allow and Grace could see a pink flush of excitement on her face.

  “Okay, here’s how I see it. Julia and Mathieu met in their apartment building. Julia’s lonely and she’s had a bad experience with her last guy, Jacques, so she’s vulnerable.”

  “I thought you said Mathieu was this big hulking brute with tattoos and piercings and a buzzed head.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, then were you not totally flabbergasted to learn that your dear friend Julia chose someone like that?” Grace felt herself relaxing. The tension was draining out of her shoulders, her face, her arms.

  “Well, sure,” Maggie said, frowning. “I mean I would’ve been shocked to hear that Babette the village tramp was dating him, okay? He’s an ape. But like I said, she was vulnerable. May I continue?”

  Grace lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

  “So I figure they get together, and after a few bottles of wine she tells Mathieu the whole story of how Jacques was such a rotter—and then puts the cherry on the cake with the fact that he hit her—and that he’s trying to get back together with her—”

  “Vraiment?” Danielle looked unconvinced. “Monsieur Tatois was attempting a reconciliation?”

  “Yes,” Maggie said, “and it’s kind of a secret. I mean, as far as I know only Julia, Mathieu, Jacques and the murderer knew that. And
I think that’s significant, don’t you?”

  Grace watched as Maggie regained her enthusiasm at Danielle’s interest. “And you, of course, darling.”

  “Of course.”

  “And Laurent? Because that would make it you, Laurent, Julia, Jacques, Mathieu, and the murderer. And of course myself and Danielle.”

  “Anyway,” Maggie said, ignoring Grace, “so Mathieu—a known hothead—hears that Jacques is coming to dinner and he figures a genius way to off him is to switch the mushrooms in the omelet that Julia is preparing—”

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” Grace said. “How would he be able to do that? How would he know how to acquire poisonous mushrooms in the first place?”

  “It just so happens,” Maggie said, “that I have proof that Mathieu accompanied Julia on her foraging trips in the woods to find fresh mushrooms. He knew exactly where to go to find poisonous mushrooms.”

  “Because, presumably, Julia pointed them out to him? The poisonous ones?”

  “Well, she’s the expert.”

  “You admit that?”

  “Look, I never said she didn’t know good mushrooms from bad. Of course she does. She forages. How else would she make sure she didn’t pick poisonous mushrooms?”

  Or make sure that she did, Grace thought. “And you also admit that Tatois died eating the mushrooms she put in his omelet.”

  “That Mathieu put in his omelet.”

  “Okay, whoever put them there…you admit that he died from the omelet he ate at her house.”

  “What’s your point here, Grace? Are you being deliberately obtuse? I get that the whole world thinks Julia poisoned Jacques. My theory turns on the same facts but points to a different person. Mathieu. He had motive. He had opportunity.”

  “His motive was jealousy?” Danielle asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “What do you mean you have proof that he went foraging with her?”

  Maggie hesitated a moment and smoothed her long tunic over the mound of her belly. Grace could see the baby kicking from across the table.

  “That’s not important,” Maggie said. “The point is, he knew where to get the mushrooms.”

  “So your contention is that he’ll let Julia swing for a murder he committed? Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? He gets rid of his rival, but loses his girlfriend in the process?” Grace felt her handbag vibrate and reached in to look at her cellphone.

  “I’m working out the details,” Maggie said. “Obviously I don’t have access to all the information I need to fill in the blanks.”

  “Obviously. Maggie, is your phone turned off? Because I’ve got two phone calls here from Laurent and I don’t think he’s trying to get a hold of me.”

  Maggie pulled her phone out of her bag and frowned at the screen. “Yeah, he’s called me, too. I wonder what’s up.” Suddenly her phone vibrated in her hand. She stared at the screen for a moment. “I don’t recognize the number,” she said and then, shrugging, accepted the call. “Hello?”

  Within seconds, Grace watched the color drain from Maggie’s face. Danielle must have seen it too for she reached for Maggie at the same time that Grace did.

  “Sweetie, what is it?” Grace asked. Was it Win? Taylor? Was Zou-zou hurt?

  Grace saw Danielle’s grip tighten on Maggie’s wrist but Maggie’s face remained stunned and unaffected by her friend. In mounting panic, Grace watched as tears filled Maggie’s eyes.

  “Maggie, for God’s sake, what is it?” Grace said sharply, her hand over her mouth.

  Maggie dropped the phone on the table with a clatter, then grabbed it up and pushed the off button. She tossed it back down and looked at it as if it were radioactive.

  “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?” Danielle whispered. What is it?

  Maggie visibly brought herself under control, even reached out to pat Danielle’s hand. “It’s Julia,” she said, her voice hoarse as if she’d been screaming. “She tried to kill herself last night.”

  “Dear God,” Grace said in thanks to prayer that her family was safe, and then felt a wave of guilt at Maggie’s stricken face.

  “Was that Roger?” she asked.

  Maggie gave a disgusted laugh. “No. No, that was Annette Tatois calling to tell me in person the kind of power she has to ruin my world.”

  “She took credit for the suicide attempt?” Danielle extricated a tissue from her purse and dabbed at the perspiration on her top lip.

  “Oh, my God,” Maggie said. “Poor Julia. I can’t imagine what she must be feeling to have tried something like this. I need to go to her.” She stood up without knowing she was doing it, and Grace reached across the table and pulled her back down into her chair.

  “Maggie, no. She’ll be in the hospital under heavy guard. You’re not family. You won’t be allowed anywhere near her.”

  “She is right,” Danielle said softly.

  Maggie looked at them with misery and acceptance. “Annette said it was because Julia was moved into general population—something Annette is taking credit for. How can one person be so full of hate?”

  The three were silent for a moment and Grace noticed that Danielle had caught the eye of the waiter. He nodded as if he understood perfectly her visual shorthand and disappeared into the café.

  “I’ve totally let her down,” Maggie said.

  “Nonsense,” Grace said. “You’re working on it. These things take time.”

  “Julia almost ran out of time last night.”

  The waiter approached and set out three wineglasses. He decanted a bottle and poured the glasses, then silently retreated.

  “I guess it’s that time of day,” Maggie said sadly as she lifted the glass to her lips.

  “I thought we could use something a little stronger than coffee,” Danielle said. “Did Madame Tatois threaten you?”

  “No. She was just gloating. Horrible woman.” She turned to Grace and then to Danielle. “It occurs to me that Annette knew that Jacques was trying to get back together with Julia. Remember how I said that was something only a few people and the murderer knew?”

  “So now you think Annette is the murderer?” Grace asked, lifting her wineglass. It was a white wine, unusual for Provence, and she wondered how in the world Danielle had ordered it without ever mouthing a single word.

  “I don’t know,” Maggie said, biting her lip. “But I’m telling you she knows stuff only the forensic police lab or the killer knows. And here I sit with nothing. Roger won’t even take my calls.”

  “Have you been calling him?”

  “Well, not lately,” Maggie said. Grace noticed she squirmed uncomfortably, but that could just be the late stage pregnancy. “But he’s my only contact on the case. Can you believe I heard about Julia’s suicide attempt from her alleged victim’s ex-wife? Why couldn’t Roger have let me know?”

  “Maybe because he’s too busy having your husband arrested and fining you for jaywalking?” Grace relaxed into her chair and wondered where the fear had come from a few moments ago when she thought it was her family in danger. So much for believing she couldn’t feel anything any more.

  “I know! Can you believe that? If the head cop in France has a personal beef with someone he can just ignore her rights?” She looked indictingly at Danielle. “And everyone just accepts that?”

  Danielle sighed heavily. “If you are asking is it only France where people abuse their power, I would venture to guess no.”

  “Okay, fine. Whatever. But I can’t just sit here. The last time I talked to Julia she hung up on me. She must be feeling so alone.”

  “Have you talked to her attorney?”

  “I tried. He won’t take my calls. Poor Julia. I still can’t believe this nightmare is happening to her.”

  “Your purse is ringing, Maggie,” Danielle pointed out to her.

  “It’s probably Laurent,” Maggie said picking it up. “No, it’s another number I don’t recognize. If it’s Annette again, I swear…Hello?”

  Gra
ce watched Maggie frown in annoyance, so obviously it wasn’t Annette.

  “What did you say your name was?” Maggie listened for a moment and then made a face. “And how did you get this number? I see. Have you been in touch with Julia? Did you hear about her…accident?”’

  Grace could see the impatience bristling off Maggie. Her fingers drummed the table and Danielle surreptitiously pushed her wineglass toward her.

  “It’s a pre-trial detention center, not a prison,” Maggie said. “Have you talked to her?” Maggie’s fingers stopped drumming. She looked at Grace and her mouth fell open. She spoke into the phone: “Are you shitting me?”

  Grace exchanged a puzzled look with Danielle.

  “Do you know that because she said you could have them, or because you figure she’ll be in a French jail for the next fifty years so you might as well have them?”

  Danielle covered her mouth as she listened.

  “That’s right,” Maggie said to her caller. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, but you might want to try explaining the coat hanger you have stuck up your ass. I think you totally suck, Miss Patrick, and I can see why Julia never mentioned you. But don’t worry, I’ll see to it that the antiques you’re talking about are carefully taken care of until Julia is released. And in the unlikely event that she isn’t, I’ll make sure they take center stage in the huge goddamn bonfire I intend to build in my back yard! Hello? Hello?”

  Maggie held the phone away to confirm that her caller had, indeed, hung up. She looked at Danielle and Grace, but before she could say a word Grace laughed and said, “Do not even begin to tell us what that was about, darling. I feel sure we got the picture.”

  At which point Danielle joined her in the first good belly laugh she had had in over a year.

  Chapter Fifteen

  That afternoon, after dropping Danielle off at her home, Grace and Maggie came back to Domaine St-Buvard for a quiet evening. Maggie could tell that Grace’s spirits were vastly improved. As she reheated the quiche that Laurent had made earlier in the day and compiled salads, she watched Grace play a simple game with Zou-zou in the living room. Children help, Maggie thought as she watched Grace’s face. When you’re forced to act happy for their sake, you end up feeling happy.