Praise for The Curse of La Fontaine
“Beguiling . . . Longworth evokes the pleasures of France in delicious detail—great wine, delicious meals, and fine company.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Longworth confirms her long-standing lovebirds as Aix’s Nick and Nora; their pursuit of miscreants never interferes with their enjoyment of the good life.”
—Kirkus Reviews
Praise for The Mystery of the Lost Cézanne
“Art theft is a hot topic on the mystery scene, and no one’s heist is livelier than Longworth’s.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“A sure thing for fans of art-themed mysteries.”
—Booklist
“Enchanting . . . the charming local citizens of Aix-en-Provence provide the true delights in this colorful story.”
—Library Journal
Praise for Murder on the Île Sordou
“Charming.”
—Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review
“[T]horoughly delightful . . . Longworth deftly handles what is in effect a locked-room mystery, but the book’s real strength lies in the backstories she creates for each of the distinctive characters. The puzzle’s answer, buried in the past, is well prepared by what has come before.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Longworth once again immerses readers in French culture with this whodunit, which will delight Francophiles and fans of Donna Leon and Andrea Camilleri. The setting will also appeal to readers who enjoy trapped-on-the-island mysteries in the tradition of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None.”
—Library Journal
“Longworth’s novels, set in the south of France, are mysteries for foodies, with the plot providing a table upon which the enchanting meals and accompanying wines are served.”
—Booklist
“[A] charming read with a well-crafted mystery and characters as rich and full-bodied as a Bordeaux.”
—Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
“A splendid read.”
—Mystery Scene
“The best thing about each novel in this series is that they are as much about lifestyle in the south of France as they are about a legal tangle, a disappearance or a murder. . . . By this third [novel] in the series, Longworth shows the reader why those who love Donna Leon’s Brunetti and Martin Walker’s Bruno take up her novels with enthusiasm.”
—Kings River Life Magazine
“Longworth’s maritime version of a country-house cozy offers genuine pleasures.”
—Kirkus Reviews
Praise for Death in the Vines
“Judge Antoine Verlaque, the sleuth in this civilized series, discharges his professional duties with discretion. But we’re here to taste the wines, which are discussed by experts like Hippolyte Thebaud, a former wine thief, and served in beautiful settings like a 300-year-old stone farmhouse. So many bottles, so many lovely views. A reader might be forgiven for feeling woozy.”
—Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review
“Though the plot is hair-raising, what keeps you glued to this mystery is its vivid portrait of everyday life in Aix, which deftly juxtaposes the elegance of the city . . . with quotidian woes and pleasures.”
—Oprah.com
“As much as the mystery intrigues—in this case some intertwined crimes involving a local winery, a missing elderly woman, and a rich man’s suspicious construction project—what really makes Longworth’s books enjoyable are the atmosphere and details that she includes of the south of France.”
—Seattle Post-Intelligencer
“What follows is a lovely, almost cozy police procedural that deserves to be read with a glass of wine in hand. Longworth paints such a loving picture of Provence that it’s likely you’ll start planning a vacation trip to France the moment you set the book down.”
—The Denver Post
“This is an intelligently written police procedural with the warm comfort of a baguette with banon cheese.”
—Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine
“Enjoyable . . . the book’s real strength is its evocation of place.”
—Publishers Weekly
Praise for Murder in the Rue Dumas
“Fans of European sleuths with a taste for good food . . . will have fun.”
—Publishers Weekly
“What really makes Longworth’s writing special is her deep knowledge of French history, landscape, cuisine, and even contemporary cafés and restaurants. This is that rare atmospheric mystery that is street-wise and café-canny.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Longworth’s gentle procedural succeeds on several levels, whether it’s for academic and literary allusions, police work, or armchair travel. With deftly shifting points of view, Longworth creates a beguiling read that will appeal to Louise Penny and Donna Leon fans.”
—Library Journal
“French-set mysteries have never been more popular [and] among the very best is a series set in Provence featuring Monsieur Verlaque, an examining magistrate, and his sometime girlfriend, law professor Marine Bonnet.”
—The Denver Post
Praise for Death at the Château Bremont
“This first novel in a projected series has charm, wit, and Aix-en-Provence all going for it. Longworth’s voice is like a rich vintage of sparkling Dorothy Sayers and grounded Donna Leon . . . Longworth has lived in Aix since 1997, and her knowledge of the region is apparent on every page. Bon appétit.”
—Booklist
“A promising debut for Longworth, who shows there’s more to France than Paris and more to mystery than Maigret.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Mystery and romance served up with a hearty dose of French cuisine. I relished every word. Longworth does for Aix-en-Provence what Frances Mayes does for Tuscany: You want to be there—NOW!”
—Barbara Fairchild, former editor in chief, Bon Appétit
“Death at the Château Bremont is replete with romance, mystery, and a rich atmosphere that makes the south of France spring off the page in a manner reminiscent of Donna Leon’s Venice. A wonderful start to a series sure to gain a legion of fans.”
—Tasha Alexander, author of the Lady Emily mysteries
“Longworth has a good eye and a sharp wit, and this introduction to Verlaque and Bonnet holds promise for a terrific series.”
—The Globe and Mail
“Death at the Château Bremont offers charming French locales, vivid characters, and an intriguing who-done-it.”
—Kevin R. Kosar, author of Whiskey: A Global History
“Here’s hoping the series lasts for years.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Your readers will eat this one up.”
—Library Journal
M. L. Longworth’s Provençal Mysteries
Death at the Château Bremont
Murder in the Rue Dumas
Death in the Vines
Murder on the Île Sordou
The Mystery of the Lost Cézanne
The Curse of La Fontaine
The Secrets of the Bastide Blanche
A PENGUIN MYSTERY
The Secrets of the Bastide Blanche
M. L. LONGWORTH has lived in Aix-en-Provence since 1997. She has written about the region for The Washington Post, The Times (UK), The Independent (UK), and Bon Appétit magazine. She is the author of a bilingual collection of essays, Une américaine en Provence, published by La
Martinière in 2004. She divides her time between Aix and Paris, where she teaches writing at NYU’s Paris campus.
PENGUIN BOOKS
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street
New York, New York 10014
penguin.com
Copyright © 2018 by Mary Lou Longworth
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Names: Longworth, M. L. (Mary Lou), 1963– author.
Title: The secrets of the Bastide Blanche / M. L. Longworth.
Description: First edition. | New York, New York : Penguin Books, 2018. | Series: A Provenðcal mystery ; 7
Identifiers: LCCN 2017042241| ISBN 9780143131427 (softcover) | ISBN 9781524705152 (e-isbn)
Subjects: LCSH: Judges—France—Fiction. | Women law teachers—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Crime. | FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Traditional British. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PR9199.4.L596 S43 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017042241
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design: Roseanne Serra
Cover illustration: Tatsuro Kiuchi
Version_1
For Kathy, Bev, and Sue
Contents
Praise for the Provençal Mysteries
M. L. Longworth’s Provençal Mysteries
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Je te tiens, tu me tiens, par la barbichette;
le premier de nous deux qui rira aura une tapette!
(I have you, you have me, by the little beard;
the first one of us who laughs will get a smack!)
—French children’s game sung by two children who stand face-to-face, holding each other by the chin
When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness.
—Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Alastor; or, The Spirit of Solitude”
Chapter One
New York City,
September 22, 2010
Justin Wong grew up in New York City, but he had never walked its streets as quickly, nor with such intent, as he did that afternoon. He felt like he could fly. It had only been seven years since he graduated from the Liberal Studies department of NYU, and here he was, working at a major publishing house—even if he was a lowly associate editor—and about to meet one of the most famous authors in the world. Prix Goncourt 1982. Voted into France’s Légion d’honneur in 1986. Short-listed for a Nobel in 1987. Millions of sales and translated into forty-two languages. Justin stopped to catch his breath, with his hands on his hips and bending over slightly. Don’t blow it, he told himself. You have to get this deal tonight. Maybe then Mom and Dad will forgive you for not studying medicine.
He straightened up and looked at his reflection in a design shop’s window. Average height, slim, jet-black hair freshly cut, and new clothes purchased specially for that evening (chinos, a pressed white cotton shirt, and for added flair a blue-and-green-checkered waistcoat and blue brogues that were too expensive even on sale). Ready.
He turned at the Flatiron, and then slowed down as he got closer to East Twentieth Street. He knew this neighborhood well; he and a few buddies used to go to a cheap jazz club nearby. Not only his boss but also the publisher had met with Justin to decide on the evening’s venue. They chose a restaurant famous for its food and extensive French wine cellar. The writer was known for his love of wines and cigars. Justin liked both, but that wasn’t why he had been chosen for this meeting. The editor in chief or publisher could have easily gone instead. Justin had been singled out by the great writer himself, whose lawyer had written a letter to New York on very old-fashioned embossed letterhead. Justin walked slowly now—he was early—with a huge smile plastered on his face as he recalled part of the letter for the millionth time: “My client, Valère Barbier, would like to meet with Mr. Justin Wong, an employee of your esteemed publishing house. M Barbier will be in New York for three days in September. Merci beaucoup. Maître Guillaume Matton, 15 avenue Hoche, 75008, Paris.”
The letter surprised Justin as much as it did the publisher, who immediately called Justin into her office (They had never met; it was a big company). “Did you call Barbier’s lawyer, this Maître Matton person?” she hollered, pacing the room. “How did he get your name? You can’t just contact world-renowned authors without your boss’s consent!” She was red in the face, almost as red as the Chanel jacket she wore. Justin looked at the floor, hiding his grin. He always laughed when he was terrified. He sat down in a leather chair, resting his sweating palms on his thighs. There had to be an explanation. Think. What connected him to this French writer? He had spent a year at NYU’s Paris campus, but he never even read Valère Barbier’s works while he was there. He had been too busy chasing French girls. Besides, Barbier had switched genres by then, infuriating his critics but gaining even more readers.
Clothilde had thought it a wild joke. “It looks so good on us!” she laughed over beers in the Latin Quarter. “We French are such snobs! And Valère Barbier has shoved it back in our Gallic faces!” She reached over and rubbed Justin’s cheek—that part he remembered vividly. “You are such a cute little New Yorker!” she said. “So cute I am going to take you back to my flat tonight!”
“Clothilde,” he said aloud.
“What?” the publisher asked. “Who is Clothilde?”
“Clothilde is a French girl I met while studying in Paris,” Justin began to explain. It was the only connection he could think of. “She was writing a thesis on Barbier.”
“So what?” the published lashed out. “A lot of people have—at least until Barbier went off the rails.”
“Clothilde actually met him and did some secretarial work for him. And she sent me a weird e-mail a few days ago. I didn’t understand—”
“Read it to me.”
Justin pulled out his cell phone and scrolled down until he found the e-mail. He bega
n reading, omitting the sexual banter at the beginning. “‘Justin, chéri, you will soon need to brush up on your knowledge of French wine. Your career may depend upon it. Bisous!’”
The publisher stopped pacing. “That’s Barbier all right. He once quizzed three separate publishers about wine before deciding which one to go with.” She looked at her young editor. “Do you know French wines? I don’t drink.”
Justin nodded.
She looked at her watch. “It’s evening now in Paris. Text or e-mail this Clothilde person. Ask her what’s going on.” Justin ran through his contact list, amazed that he still had Clothilde’s cell number. He sent her a text, and while they waited, he cruised his Facebook page and saw that he and Clothilde were friends. She could have easily seen his employment status. She rarely posted photos or news, nor did he, but he read her latest status. She now worked for Canal Plus, one of the big French television and film companies. That didn’t surprise him.
In minutes his cell phone beeped. The publisher, who had been looking out at the Hudson River from her eleventh-floor window, swung around. Justin read Clothilde’s text, again omitting the sexual innuendo: “‘I’m still in contact with Valère Barbier, cher Justin. Ran into him the other day at work, and we had some mojitos together. Imagine! Mojitos avec Barbier! Sounds like a film title, n’est-ce pas? He told me he is unhappy with his publisher—a big competitor of yours—and I gave him your name. He wants to write another book, an autobiography! Voilà! I told him you love France.’” Justin paused and said, “True . . . and I love his new books,” then looked at the publisher and shook his head, grimacing. He silently finished reading the text: “La vie est belle. Ciao, darling! Trop cuuute!” The publisher meanwhile sat down and folded her hands on her desk. “Well, that’s that,” she said. “Who’s to argue with the Great Man?” To Justin’s delight, she gave him permission to proceed. He got up and shook her hand, thanking her.
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