Murder in Nice

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan

“No, not at all. I was surprised I could convince Ben to come with me, but I think he ended up enjoying himself. Didn’t you, Ben?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Ben said and reached across the table to take one of the wineglasses that Laurent had filled.

  “Was Lanie there?” Maggie asked turning back to the conversation. Laurent got up from the table and returned to the kitchen.

  Haley frowned. “I didn’t see her. Did you, Ben?”

  “How would I know? I barely remember what the woman looked like, for crap’s sake,” he snarled.

  “Well, you know Lanie,” Haley said to Maggie. “If she were there, we would’ve known.” She turned to Grace. “Lanie wasn’t the shy type even back in high school.”

  “Those are usually the most fun types,” Grace said.

  “I’m afraid Lanie didn’t have a very fun high school experience,” Haley said sadly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Maggie?”

  Maggie squirmed. The embarrassing fact was that right after she and Lanie parted ways, Maggie had become obsessed with a new student named Jeremy (or was it Joshua?) who had absorbed the whole of her concentration until he graduated—the year before her—and left her briefly heartbroken. She simply hadn’t thought much about Lanie that year.

  “I guess so,” she said. “I know Annie said the two of them were going through a lot because of Annie’s divorce.” She decided not to mention Annie’s drinking.

  “Oh, Laurent,” Haley said. “What is it that smells so heavenly?”

  Laurent emerged from the kitchen and set down a large, heavy casserole on a platter stacked high with thick-sliced homemade toast.

  “Oh, it’s brandade,” Grace said. “And Laurent’s is killer. Did you double-dose it with garlic?”

  Laurent rolled his eyes as if to imply, what else? The table laughed.

  “Yeah, I hope you’re not sensitive to garlic,” Maggie said, picking up one of the pieces of toast. “Laurent brought on early labor for a friend of ours after she ate his bourride.” Maggie used a spoon to dip into the steaming casserole and settled a large dollop on top of her toast, which she held carefully over her plate.

  “What in the world is it?” Haley asked, reaching for a piece of toast. “It smells like…like the best thing I’ve ever smelled in my life.”

  “Wait until you taste it,” Grace said. “It’s salt cod, right, Laurent?”

  Haley’s hand froze over the dish. “Fish? This is fish?”

  “Well,” Maggie said, “it’s fish pulverized with olive oil and potatoes and artichokes and about a ton of garlic. We normally only have it in winter and, believe me, you can weed half a hectare after lunching on this.”

  Haley nibbled on her toast and eyed the casserole unhappily.

  “What’s the matter, dear?” Grace said.

  “She doesn’t eat fish,” Ben said, scooping up a large serving onto his plate. “I don’t suppose you have any chicken tenders for her?”

  “Ben, stop it,” Haley said under her breath, her gaze dropping to her lap.

  Maggie knew Laurent’s policy on picky eaters and she knew he would be pretty seriously disgusted by Haley’s inability to behave as he felt a guest ought to. Even so, she also knew he had strong views on how a host should behave, which is why she wasn’t surprised to see him remove Haley’s plate and retreat to the kitchen.

  “There is leftover pizza from lunch,” he said over his shoulder.

  “You are an embarrassment to me,” Ben said between his teeth.

  “Oh, settle down, Ben,” Maggie said, smiling encouragingly to Haley. “It’s no big deal.”

  Grace helped herself to the brandade and passed the breadbasket to Haley. “Fresh from the boulangerie two villages over,” she said brightly.

  “Thanks,” Haley said softly, taking the basket.

  Ben ate his brandade, ignoring Haley’s discomfort.

  This was going to be a long visit.

  “So, Maggie,” Grace said, “how was Annie? Is she going to be okay, do you think?”

  Maggie waited until Laurent placed a plate with two pieces of pissaladière in front of Haley. She noted that Haley didn’t look much happier with the pizza than she had the fish.

  “Well, she’s pretty devastated, obviously. I don’t know what kind of support system she has back home, but she does have a parish and I think she mentioned she’s active in it.”

  “That’s good,” Grace said.

  “She asked me to look into the evidence the police have on Olivier Tatois—”

  The fork Laurent dropped was not an accident and Maggie knew it.

  “Why in the world do you think Olivier is innocent?” Ben asked her, spooning himself up more brandade. “You don’t even know him.”

  “I don’t necessarily think he is innocent,” Maggie responded. “I’m just trying to confirm that the police have the right guy.”

  “Why don’t you think they do?” Ben asked.

  “I don’t have an opinion one way or the other. As you said, I don’t know him. But Lanie’s mom asked me to make sure.”

  “So, as usual, this is Maggie thinking she knows more than the professionals.”

  “Wow. That’s a little more direct than we’re used to from you, Ben,” Maggie said. “Refreshing.”

  “I’ve heard the stories of your so-called sleuthing escapades. I am in contact with Mom and Dad, as it happens.”

  “Good to know. Just not at Christmas or Thanksgiving.”

  “I have my own family, Maggie,” Ben said pointedly.

  “Which most people don’t use as an excuse not to see their parents,” Maggie retorted. “Besides, no offense, but a couple is not a family.”

  Haley sucked in a gasp of breath, her face a mask of hurt.

  “Chérie, may I see you in the kitchen, please?”

  “In a second, Laurent. Think about it, Ben. If you and Haley were to break up right now, it would be no big deal in the larger scheme of things. But that’s not the case if there was a kid in the mix.”

  “Maggie, now,” Laurent said.

  “How dare you, Maggie!” Haley was on her feet, her chair knocked to the floor behind her.

  Maggie felt Laurent wrap his hand around her arm and tug her out of her chair.

  “We have recently learned the benefits of time-outs,” Laurent said over his shoulder as he guided Maggie toward the kitchen, his hand firmly on her back. “And we will return momentarily when we are using our inside voices.”

  Maggie stomped into the kitchen and then whirled on Laurent. “I need that jerk to realize he’s the worst son in the universe.”

  “As he is not your son, perhaps you are not the best judge of that, chérie. Besides, your brother wasn’t listening to you but you were upsetting your brother’s wife very much.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Maggie said, clenching and unclenching her fists. “He is a pompous, uncaring jackass.”

  “Bien sûr,” Laurent said pulling her into his arms and stroking her hair with his large hand down her back. “Breathe, yes? Big breath.”

  “Don’t treat me like Jem,” Maggie said crossly.

  “Of course not. Jem would be spanked by now,” Laurent said, shaking a finger in her face and grinning. “I am treating you like a naughty grown-up girl.”

  Maggie laughed and eased into his arms. “That guy makes me so mad.”

  “On this I believe we are all clear,” Laurent said, kissing her and rubbing her back. “Can you behave when you return to table? Even knowing there must be an apology first to your brother’s wife?”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Maggie said, sighing. “I got carried away. I shouldn’t have said all that.”

  “Especially not to one trying so hard to have the bèbè.”

  “Really? You think so?”

  Laurent shrugged and Maggie didn’t probe further. The things he picked up on with people and their subtle reactions would rival Sherlock Holmes. She’d long ago learned to take his observations as fact and move on. Sa
ved a whole lot of time.

  “Now I really feel bad.”

  “Tcht,” Laurent said, making that dismissive sound he did with his tongue. Maggie had heard him use it many times with the dogs. It didn’t thrill her that he was using it on her now. “Just apologize and go forward,” he said.

  “Easier said,” Maggie said, straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath.

  When they returned to the table, it became clear that Maggie’s apology would have to wait.

  “Where did Haley go?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Something about needing to cry herself to sleep,” Ben said sarcastically. “I’m sure she’ll have recovered by tomorrow.”

  “I’ll go up and see her,” Maggie said, but Laurent already had a hand on her arm. She glanced at him and he shook his head.

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “Please let her get over tonight before you launch into her again.”

  “Piss off, Ben,” Maggie said.

  “Always with the delicate repartee.” Ben stood and tossed his napkin down onto the table. “I was thinking of a smoke on the terrace. Care to join me, Laurent?”

  “You go,” Laurent said. “I’ll come, bientôt.”

  Ben shrugged and gave Maggie a half-smile before exiting the room.

  Grace let out a long exaggerated breath. “Well, that was tense,” she said. “But fascinating. Whatever possessed you, Maggie to light into Haley?”

  “I wasn’t!” Maggie said. “I mean, I didn’t intend to. I thought I was going after Ben.”

  “Well, she got good and caught in the crossfire, that’s for sure. You do know she’s trying desperately to get pregnant, right?”

  Maggie glanced at Laurent but he was already clearing the table. “I didn’t,” she said. “But I do now. Did she tell you?”

  “Mmm-mm,” Grace said, standing with a dish in her hand. “She’s all but given up. So your little you’re not a family unless you have a kid tirade was pretty ill-timed.”

  “I feel terrible.”

  “You let him push your buttons.”

  “I can’t seem to help it.”

  “That’s siblings for you.”

  Maggie stared through the French doors, where she saw her brother standing on the terrace smoking. “What I want to know,” she said thoughtfully, “is what is he doing trying to chum up to Laurent?”

  “Now isn’t that the million-dollar question?”

  Maggie joined Grace in the kitchen, where Laurent was running hot water over a sink full of dishes.

  “Go,” Maggie said to him. “You cooked it. Let us clean it up.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I know you don’t, but only you can find out what my jerk brother is up to.”

  “He is up to something,” Laurent said grimly as he dried his hands.

  Maggie pulled the towel from him. “Go smoke with him and see what he wants. Do your sneaky, I’m looking at you but you don’t know I am, thing.”

  He ran a hand down her back and kissed her mouth before exiting the kitchen without a word. Even in this absent-minded gesture, Maggie could sense his mind was elsewhere.

  “He already knew your brother was up to something.”

  “No one will ever surprise Laurent,” Maggie said, grinning. “Trust me, I’ve tried. Wash or dry? Oops. Hold that thought.” She pulled her vibrating phone out of her pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Annie,” she said.

  “Go on,” Grace said as she turned the hot water back on in the sink.

  “I won’t be long.” Maggie walked toward the living room, grabbing her wine glass from the table as she went.

  “Hey, Annie,” she said as she sat down on the couch. “You get home safe and sound?”

  “Yes, thank you, Maggie,” Annie said, her voice cracked and heavy with exhaustion. “I wanted to thank you again for everything you did for me. I don’t know how I would have navigated through the necessary channels without you.”

  “Well, no need to thank me,” Maggie said. “My French may not be good enough to argue philosophy but it’s just barely good enough for most everything else.”

  “I also want to thank you for agreeing to look into Lanie’s death more. Olivier has a lawyer, who told me she would be open to sharing information with you. I gave her your contact information and wanted to make sure you had hers, too.”

  “Okay. Sure. Can I ask you, Annie, why you think Olivier might not be guilty? I mean, I know you met him and liked him and all but…”

  Maggie heard Annie take in a long ragged breath before answering.

  “Well, to be honest,” Annie said, “at first I didn’t believe it because I felt that I had special information that seemed to…prohibit the possibility of him being guilty. I didn’t want to say anything to you before. It just seemed like an invasion of Lanie’s life and I have done such a bad job of protecting her when she was alive.”

  “Special information?” What the heck was she talking about?

  “The French coroner told me after the autopsy…” Annie broke down in tears and Maggie sat up straight in anticipation. “He…he told me when he gave me Lanie’s…remains something utterly heartbreaking.”

  Maggie remembered that Annie was weepier than usual when she waved her off on the airplane, but she assumed it was because everything was coming to an end. Now her mind raced: What could be so heartbreaking after losing your only child?

  “Lanie was pregnant.”

  There you go.

  “Wow, Annie. I am so sorry.”

  Annie sniffled loudly. “So, of course, I knew it couldn’t be Olivier. Only a monster would knowingly…” Maggie listened as Annie made an effort to get a grip of her emotions. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger. “Olivier agreed to a DNA test. Understandably, his lawyer believed it would be helpful in establishing that he could not have killed Lanie. That he had no motive. His lawyer told me Olivier was eager to take the test, the results of which we got today.”

  Oh, don’t tell me…

  “The baby wasn’t his.”

  Seven

  The next morning, Maggie was up early, but still not before Laurent, of course. She found him in the kitchen talking to Jem, who was in his high chair scrutinizing a mashed-up peach.

  “I need two coffees,” Maggie said, kissing the baby and then moving to the counter where Laurent had just made a full pot.

  “You are expecting a stressful morning, chérie?” Laurent said, smiling as she drew two mugs from the cabinet.

  “They’re not both for me. Did you see Haley come through here?”

  “She’s in the northeast quadrant of the vineyard.”

  “Wow, really? Why, I wonder?” Maggie poured the coffees. “I don’t know how she takes hers.”

  “The point is the effort, chérie.”

  “Yeah, good. In that case…” Maggie reached for the antique china ewer of cream on the counter and added it to both mugs, along with two spoonfuls of sugar. “Can you get the door?”

  Laurent walked her to the French doors and gave her shoulder a light squeeze as she passed through. “Bonne chance,” he said, closing the door behind her.

  Maggie stood on the terrace for a moment and squinted into the horizon. The northwest quadrant got the sun first and there was a bench out there, so she figured that was probably why Haley went that way. It was also the furthest point from the house.

  Maggie steadied the two coffees and walked gingerly over the uneven ground until she reached the first of several long rows of well-tended aisles of grape vines. To her immediate right on the perimeter was a stand of gnarled olive trees providing nothing useful but a thought to their historical role. They’d probably been fruitful during Laurent’s uncle’s time, but now they weren’t even good for shade.

  There was an apple orchard on the far side of the vineyard but it too was not harvested. Maggie had stepped on a snake there the summer before and decided on the spot there was no real need to ever go back.

  Laurent’s
vineyard was sectioned into fourths, with the main intersection a wide dirt tractor road. Although she rarely came into the vineyard—Laurent’s kingdom and domain—Maggie knew she was nearly to the northwest quadrant when she came to the road. Her foot caught a small root and she spilled coffee onto her hand.

  “Ouch! Dammit!” She stopped and put both coffees down on the ground to wipe off her hand.

  “Maggie? Is that you?”

  Maggie looked up to see Haley, hidden until this moment, rise from the bench on the other side of the tractor road. Laurent must have moved the bench. She didn’t remember it being so close.

  “Yes, it’s me,” Maggie said. “How did you know? The early-morning cussing?”

  Haley laughed and walked across the road to meet her. “Pretty much,” she said. Haley was wearing a pair of loose linen slacks and a short-sleeve cotton top. Appearing fresh and unaffected by the hot morning, she looked like she absolutely belonged in the middle of a two-hundred-year-old Provençal vineyard.

  Maggie handed her one of the coffees and in the bright morning sun immediately saw the bruise under Haley’s eye. Was that new? Or had it been covered with makeup before?

  Why is it you always think the worst when you see a woman with a black eye?

  “I am so, so, so sorry about last night, Haley,” Maggie said. “Laurent tells me all the time that I don’t know what I’m saying half the time but last night I really put my foot in it. Please forgive me.”

  Haley held the coffee and nodded, her smile firmly in place. “It’s okay, Maggie. I knew you when, remember? You always spoke your mind. I overreacted.”

  “No, you didn’t at all,” Maggie said. “It was all me. I let Ben get me riled up but that’s no excuse.”

  Haley looked away and Maggie saw the bruise was more yellow than purple. So it had happened a few days ago.

  Should she say something about it?

  “He’s going through some changes at work,” Haley said. “And Ben doesn’t like change.”

  “He really seems…edgy. More than usual,” Maggie said, grateful to change the subject from her to her brother.

  “He’ll get through it,” Haley said, her eyes going to the span of orderly vineyards all around them.