by Harper Lin
As she looked at la tour, she said a little prayer asking to help her get over this little crush on Arthur. For good measure, she also prayed for this murder case to be solved, if not by her, then by the police.
Near Place d'Iéna, she turned back home. She enjoyed the rest of the walk along the Seine. People jogged, biked, or rollerbladed past her, and she felt as if everybody was happy to be in the sunshine. The sun had made a grand appearance after a cloudy morning. It put her in a good mood as she walked back up to the Palais de Chaillot.
As she made her way to the round-a-bout at Place du Trocadéro, a sight of a boy on a scooter caught her eye. He wore a blue helmet with a familiar frog on it. He was turning down Avenue Raymond Poincaré.
He could have been the same boy who had bought the two pistachio éclairs from her store. Even though he was only about eleven years old, there was no harm in asking him about it, so she did.
“Bonjour, excusez-moi!” She chased after the little boy.
He didn’t hear her and continued on his merry way. Clémence was wearing flats, so she was able to run and catch up to him.
The boy stopped when she blocked his path, looking wide-eyed at her. Clémence smiled to put him at ease. She explained that she worked at the Damour patisserie and she’d seen him in buying their products. She then lied and said that she was doing a survey on customer satisfaction and if he’d been willing to participate.
The boy nodded and asked if that meant he got a free treat from the store. Clémence laughed, surprised by his boldness.
“Sure, how about an éclair?” Clémence said.
“I don’t like éclairs as much as pain aux chocolats,” he said.
“You don’t? But didn’t I see you buying two pistachio éclairs this week?”
“Oh, that wasn’t for me,” the boy said. “That was for someone else.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. A lady asked me buy them for her and said that she’d give me five euros if I did.”
“Why?”
The boy shrugged. “I guess she didn’t want to wait in line. She said to meet her around the corner when I was done.”
“What did she look like?”
He thought about it. “She was wearing sunglasses, and had blond hair.”
“So you don’t know who she is?” she pressed.
“No.”
“How long was her hair?”
“Maybe here.” He put his hands to his collarbone to show the length.
“So this is not a lady that your mother would know?”
“No. She’s a stranger.”
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” Clémence said, even though she was a stranger herself.
“She’s a lady,” said the boy. “Ladies aren’t dangerous.”
Or were they? Clémence thought.
“What was she wearing?” she asked.
“I think a black coat,” he said. “But I don’t remember. Can I get my pain aux chocolat now?”
“Sure,” Clémence said. “Let’s go to the patisserie.”
Whoever this woman was must’ve wanted to be in disguise. Although it had been sunny that morning. Maybe the weather did warrant sunglasses.
The woman must’ve planned the poisoning. She hadn’t wanted to be seen buying the pistachio éclairs herself so she hired a boy off the street to do it.
Whoever it was must’ve known that Dupont liked his pistachio éclairs. And by the sound of it, he had told whoever he ran into how much he liked them. This blond lady was the key. She might just be the murderer!
CHAPTER 17
“Who could this woman be?” Clémence asked Berence in the employee lounge.
“What about the wife?” asked Berenice.
“I thought about her, but I saw a picture of Dupont and his wife on the internet where they were at some fancy event, and the wife has short brunette hair. In any case, I should weasel a meeting with her.”
Berenice nodded. “For sure, but what are you going to say?”
“It’s awkward isn’t it? Maybe she wouldn’t want to talk to just any girl off the street. I’m not a real inspector, and I can’t impersonate one. Otherwise Cyril will have a reason to lock me up.”
“Okay, what about John? You can get him to introduce you.”
Clémence groaned. “Haven’t I been through enough? He didn’t even text me.”
She checked her phone to prove it. To her surprise, there was a text from John.
Coucou beautiful, it was fun last night. Do you want to have drinks tomorrow?
“Tomorrow,” Berenice said. “He wants to see you again so soon. He must like you.”
“I can’t continue on with this charade however. I have to tell him who I really am.”
“You will?”
“Yes,” said Clémence. “He has a good sense of humor. I hope he’ll understand that I had to do what I had to do.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I don’t know, but he’s bound to find out sooner or later. He works at the bank in this neighbourhood so there’s a high chance of running into him. I can’t pretend to be Anabelle forever.”
“True,” said Berenice. “And sometimes your pictures are in the gossip column for being the heiress of Damour. Why did you stop going to events anyway?”
“I used to do that with Mathieu,” said Clémence. “He liked going to those fancy parties and making important connections. I was never into the whole socialite scene.”
“Too bad,” said Berenice. “I think it would be cool to have a famous friend.”
“I’d want to be famous for my accomplishments, not what my parents have achieved,” said Clémence.
Which reminded her that as soon as this murder case was solved, she could go back to her art. This prompted her to contact John right away. She wanted the case to be closed as soon as possible.
Can we meet? She texted him.
***
At the cafe across the street from the bank, Clémence explained everything.
John was shocked at first, but then his expression slowly melted into understanding.
“So you used me,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” said Clémence. “I had to be careful because I thought you were a killer.”
“Wow.” He laughed incredulously.
“I didn’t know you then.”
“So were you ever interested in me at all?”
Clémence hesitated. “Well, sure. I thought we had a good time. We had some good conversations and you’re an attractive guy.”
“Just attractive?”
“Beau,” she said, smiling. “Comme un dieu.”
He smiled back. “Okay, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Do you think that you can help me in any way?”
He rubbed his chin. “I was shocked after you told me that Dupont died. I can understand what you’re trying to do. You’re right. The police is useless here. When I got pick-pocketed on the Métro the first week I was here, the police basically laughed at me and told me it was useless to get my wallet back.”
Clémence nodded knowingly. “Like I said, they’ve arrested my employee and he’s innocent. I guess I can tell the police about what I found out so far, but I want to speak to the wife first. She would be privy to the secrets of her husband.”
“Unless this blonde is his mistress. Or what if the wife is the killer? Imagine, my own neighbour, a killer.”
“That’s why I want to find out in a non-interrogative way, but I can’t seem to find out anything about this wife online.”
“Well I can pay Madame Dupont a casual visit. She’s quite elusive, and I don’t see much of her, but Dupont’s husband should be soon and I can try to get an invite”
“That would be great,” she said. “So you haven’t talked to her in the past?”
“I only run into her when she’s out doing the shopping, and we exchange friendly hellos.” John frowned, thinking of something. �
�I do remember that once I was meditating in the living room and I heard them arguing.”
“Arguing?”
“Well, it was just Dupont doing the yelling. Maybe he’d been arguing with someone on the phone.”
“Did he do that any other times?”
John nodded. “A few occasions, yes, but then again, I only moved in there three weeks ago, and I’m usually at work or out exploring the city, so I’m not home all the time to know what’s going on. It does sound like Dupont has a temper.”
“I wonder who he was arguing with,” said Clémence.
“I guess we’ll find out, hopefully. After work, I’ll pay Madame Dupont a visit, and I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Great,” said Clémence.
“And hopefully you can be my date to this funeral.”
“It’s a date then.”
“And if you do solve this case with my help, you owe me dinner this time.”
Clémence looked at John, who was grinning in a teasing way.
“Fine,” she said. “I guess it’s only fair.”
CHAPTER 18
The lawyers were helping Raoul build up his defense, but even Clémence’s parents were worried that it had gotten to this point. Michel and the other lawyers had shown the police the security footage obtained from the store, arguing that there was no proof that Raoul tampered with the éclairs in any way. However, it also proved that Dupont didn’t even buy the éclairs. They could argue that Raoul had given Dupont the éclairs outside of the store.
Clémence was concerned for Raoul as well. She hoped that John would come through with something. He had a charm that she was sure most women wouldn’t be able to resist. Sure enough, while she was eating dinner, he called to say that there was a funeral tomorrow.
“How did Madame Dupont act when you talked to her?” Clémence asked.
“She looked pretty tired,” said John. “I guess she’s still distraught. Wouldn’t blame her really. Her eyes were red, so she had probably been crying. She seemed really embarrassed to see me in her state so I kept the conversation short. She told me about the funeral and that was it.”
After noting down the details, Clémence made plans to meet with John.
“If you wear a black version of the dress you wore on our last date, I’ll be happy,” he said.
“There’s zero chance of that happening,” said Clémence. “But I will wear black, if that pleases you.”
“That pleases the dead. I’m sure you’ll look hot in anything.”
“Thank you.”
Clémence hung up, a small smile still on her lips. John was wrong for her. She knew it, but she still enjoyed flirting with him.
As she turned off the lights in the kitchen to go into her bedroom to retire for the evening, her doorbell rang. Who could it be at this hour? She looked into the peephole.
Arthur.
“Yes?” She opened the door a crack.
He was in a grey v-neck t-shirt and jeans. He was dressed casually and he looked quite good.
“The new gardien mixed up some of our mail,” he said.
Ever since la gardienne, the caretaker of their building, was murdered last month, they got a new caretaker, an older man in his late fifties. The mixed mail wasn’t a surprise, but what did surprise her was that Arthur came himself.
She raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t one of your many maids be doing these kinds of errands?”
Arthur shrugged, stone-faced. “I might as well, since I know you. Plus I wanted an update as to how you were doing with this murder case.”
“Everything’s going well,” Clémence said.
She took the letters from Arthur’s hand. It was just a couple of bills for her parents.
“You need any help with it?”
“The case? No, I got it. You almost messed up my investigation by the way.”
“Right, I realized that after. So that was the banker guy you had been stalking?”
“My lead, yes.”
“And your investigation required you to date?”
Clémence could feel her defensiveness coming on. Arthur had that irritating habit of getting under her skin.
“Yes, Arthur,” she said sarcastically. “If you’re going to call me a whore, go ahead.”
His eyes widened. “I wasn’t going to call you a whore. I was just surprised to see you dressed that way, that’s all.”
“Why? The girls you go out with dress like that. How is Lea by the way?”
“We’re not going out,” Arthur said quickly. “She’s just a friend.”
“Sure. Anyway, thanks for stopping by.”
“Attends.” Arthur put a hand on the door. “This banker guy—”
“John,” said Clémence.
“John, whatever. Are you sure you’re safe around him?”
“Yes, he’s helping me. I only see him in public places anyway.”
“You’re not going out with him again, are you?”
“If a funeral counts,” Clémence said, and then immediately regretted it. She didn’t want Arthur to get into her business again. “Look, he’s not the murderer and I’ve already revealed my identity to him. He’s Dupont’s neighbour and he’s going to help me get to know the wife.”
She quickly explained what she’d found out about John.
“So you think the wife did it?” Arthur asked.
“I don’t know. I’m trying to find out.”
“Well, it’s clear that you don’t know much at this point. This banker guy can still be a suspect. Remember when you almost got killed last time when you were left alone with someone you thought you could trust?”
It was true that Clémence had placed herself in a dangerous situation last month, but she had learned from it and she was smarter this time.
“It’s going to be fine,” she said. Although doubts were forming. Arthur did find her unconscious last time and even went to the hospital with her.
“Like I said, I’m willing to be your bodyguard. Just tell me where you’re going to be and I’ll show up discretely and watch your back.”
Clémence thought about it. She guessed it would be practical to have help in case anything went wrong.
“Fine,” she said.
“I’ll give you my number,” said Arthur, then pulled out his phone to take hers.
After they exchanged numbers, he left.
Clémence closed the doors and sighed. Spending more time with Arthur wasn’t going to help her get over him. Even though he claimed that Lea was just a friend, nobody wanted to be just friends with a blond bombshell. She was sure he was sleeping around and she wasn’t going to be another notch on his belt.
