Crêpe Murder: Book 4 (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) (3 page)

“You did? Oh. Well I suppose we can just use my fingers, although my hands are kind of dirty…”
 

“Totally kidding.” Arthur grinned. “I brought cutlery from home.” He took out some fancy silverware from another bag, along with plastic cups shaped like wine glasses. “I found them in our cupboard. I didn’t even know they made plastic cups like these.”
 

“That’s because you don’t do your own shopping,” Clémence teased. “I’m impressed. And if I ever see you doing your own laundry, I’ll have a heart attack.”
 

“Hey, I can be competent when I want to be. But I’m a busy man. I’ll only work when there’s a reward.”
 

Clémence raised an eyebrow at him. “And I’m the reward?”
 

“The reward is to see you happy.” He pulled her in closer on the blanket and kissed her on the cheek.

It was hard to believe that she and Arthur used to hate each other. She once thought that he was a complete snob and he used to find her annoying, but since they started running into each other more when Clémence moved in to house-sit, they were always somehow thrown together to solve murder cases. Gradually, they grew on each other.
 

They had plenty of sexual chemistry, but Clémence was still getting to know him. She wasn’t sure if they were completely compatible, since Arthur was the logical, book-smart type, and Clémence was creative and spontaneous.
 

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” said Clémence. “I want to learn one new fact about you every day.”
 

Arthur thought about it. “I used to play the piano.”
 

“Really? No way!”
 

“Yup. My mother forced me. From age four to fifteen. I had to go to piano lessons twice a week and practice all the time, even though I drove my siblings crazy.”
 

“So you must be good then.”
 

“I was, and I was seriously considering doing it as a profession before I realized how much I hated it.”
 

“Hated it? But why?”
 

“Because I didn’t choose it. Practice was torture and after a while I just stopped hearing the music.”
 

“So you lost your passion.”
 

“Completely. But now I don’t hate it as much since I’m not under so much pressure anymore. Sometimes I’ll play a song for the family here and there.”
 

Clémence shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re a pianist. That’s so surprising. I guess I never thought of you as the musical type.”
 

“Well, piano, or music in general, is all about mathematics. And I have a musical ear, so I was a quick learner.”
 

“I’d love to hear you play one day. In a proper tux and everything.”
 

“I’ll play
Clare de Lune
and you’ll swoon.” Arthur grinned.

“Like all the other girls you’ve serenaded?” Clémence teased.

“Hardly. Except once, when I was fifteen. In high school, I brought this girl I was trying to impress home one day and played the song I was learning at the time.”
 

“Was she impressed?”

“Of course. I got a kiss out of that.”

“Maybe if I ever get to come over to your house, you can play for me. You know, if our families ever find out we’re dating, and we’re still together by then.”
 

Clémence regretted what came out of her mouth as soon as she said it. Arthur frowned. “Of course we’ll be together. Actually, I wouldn’t mind telling my mother if that’s what you want.”
 

“No. I mean, it’s fine. I like the way it is now. It’s only been two weeks. Why rush things?”
 

He relaxed a bit and hugged her closer. “Okay then. It’s going well, and I don’t want anything to ruin this either. So how did your day go? You went to the art class?”
 

“Yes. I signed up for the semester. I’m looking forward to painting again. I’ve been so busy with work, and all the recent drama has been so stressful. Rose is living in Germany now, and I’m just getting back into the swing of things.”
 

“I’m glad you’re doing something you like again. It would be a nice change if weird things stopped happening in Paris.”
 

Clémence was reminded of Carlos earlier that morning. “Do you know that socialite Sophie Seydoux?”
 

“As a matter of fact I do. She’s a couple of years younger than me, but Theo knows her. They went to the same school together and they’re pretty good friends. I’ve also met Sophie and her sister at various social gatherings, like Theo’s birthday parties. Why do you ask?”
 

“I just saw her at
Damour
earlier, dining with this guy Carlos.” She told Arthur the whole story about how she knew Carlos. “I can’t believe I traveled with him for almost two weeks without finding out more about him. I don’t even know his last name.”
 

“That’s odd. Maybe he’s married or had a girlfriend or something. Hey, you didn’t do anything crazy on your travels, did you?”
 

Arthur meant the question to sound casual, but Clémence could tell he really wanted to know.

“No,” Clémence said honestly. “Not at all. You know my relationship history. And I sure know yours.”
 

Clémence and Arthur had spent one of their long evenings together talking and the conversation had turned to past lovers. While Clémence had three boyfriends before him, Arthur only had one relationship, but a series of flings, the number which did not make Clémence happy. However, it wasn’t as if Arthur’s old playboy ways came as a shock. She was well aware of his past, which had made her hesitant about being with him to begin with. Now, he was devoted to her and only wanted to be with her, and that was what she chose to focus on.
 

“Forget about this Carlos guy,” said Arthur.
 

“I’m just curious who he is. He insinuated that he was royalty or something, so my friends and I thought he was so mysterious.”
 

“He’s probably just some spoiled rich kid who likes to throw money around and feel important.”
 

Clémence laughed and shoved a piece of baguette with cream cheese and caviar in his mouth. “Takes one to know one, right?”
 

Arthur began tickling her and she squealed, catching looks from other picnickers nearby.
 

“Stop.” She giggled and tried to swat him away.

“Carlos is probably not even this guy’s real name,” he continued. “He’s dating Sophie now. Big deal. He’s probably in the same scene.”
 

“It was just really awkward to see him. I wonder if he’s living in Paris and if I’ll have to run into him more often. Maybe I’ll finally find out why he just disappeared on us.”
 

“So you love a good mystery when it comes to men too, huh? I should start being more mysterious. Maybe you’ll like me more.”
 

“I already like you plenty. And no, I’ve so over mystery. I’ll take an honest, open guy any day.” She looked deep into his eyes. “Seriously.”
 

He kiss her. They slowly leaned back on the trunk of the tree, still kissing, as the sun began to set.
 

CHAPTER 4

“I’ve got info,” Celine said to Clémence as soon as she came in to work.

“Really? What’s the scoop?”
 

“Well, first of all, we didn’t get his name because he paid in cash—a hundred euro bill, no less.”
 

“Ah, too bad.”
 

“But when Sophie went to the restroom, he asked about you.”
 

“Me? He asked you about me?”
 

“No, he asked Christine.” Celine referred to one of the waitresses. “He asked her who was the girl with the dark bob and the striking blue eyes. Christine, thinking that he was interested in you, bragged a little and told him that you were the owner of the
Damour
chain.”
 

Clémence’s face fell. “She did that?”
 

“Was she not supposed to do that?”
 

Clémence shrugged. “I guess in a way it’s common knowledge who I am, but now he knows more about me than I know about him.”
 

“Christine asked him who he was, but he looked around before saying his name was Carlos. He seemed a bit nervous when Sophie came back from the restroom. Christine thought it might’ve been because he didn’t want his date to know that he was inquiring about some other girl. What is going on? Do you guys have history?”
 

“Sort of.” Clémence told her the story about Carlos.
 

“Another mystery to solve,” she joked. “That’s weird that he left. Some men are just callous. But I have to admit, he is really cute. No wonder Sophie’s going out with him, especially if he’s a secret prince or something.”
 

“I don’t know about that,” said Clémence. “I’ll just ask Arthur’s brother Theo to ask Sophie who he is. Theo went to school with her. I guess Carlos did remember me. It was such an awkward encounter. There’s something odd about this whole thing.”
 

“Well, you’ll get to the bottom of this soon. You always do.”
 

Clémence worked in the kitchen for the whole morning, helping Sebastien and Berenice with their new macaron flavors. At noon, she took a shopping cart to head to Marché de l’Alma, an open air market which lasted only a few hours. She could’ve asked one of her employees or interns to pick up the apples, but she loved going to the market. Everything was fresh and colorful, and she wouldn’t mind eating some paella from one of the stalls there for lunch.
 

All the trees on Avenue de Président Wilson were lush and green after the flowers had fallen off. There were still a few petals in the gutters. Tourists with maps were everywhere. Clémence chuckled. Some of them were probably looking for Place du Trocadéro to see the Eiffel Tower, which was only around the corner. Sure enough, a German couple stopped her to ask for directions.

The market was bustling as usual with locals and tourists alike. Fruit vendors were calling out prices at the entrance. Clémence stopped to admire the roses and sunflowers at a flower stall, then proceeded past the seafood to stop at her favorite fruit seller to buy apples.

“Bonjour Sarah,” she said to the seller, who was a woman in her fifties. “I’m looking for some apples for baking.”
 

Sarah recommended a few from her selection. The Pink Lady apples ended up costing a fortune. Clémence also bought Honey Crisp and Mutsu apples. All the apples took up half the shopping cart and weighed a ton. She dragged the cart to the paella stand, where she bought a container to take away. After she poked around the rest of the stalls, which sold everything from old postcards to homemade honey, yogurts and cheeses, her cart was full of fresh fruit, vegetables and homemade goods.
 

At Place d'Iena, she sat on a bench to eat her paella as people lined up for the Musee de Guimet behind her.
 

After she finished her meal and was about to stand to throw away her empty container, a man walked up to her.
 

“Clémence?”
 

She was in shock as she looked into the dark eyes of Carlos.
 

“Carlos? What are you doing here?”
 

“I thought it was you.” He greeted her, kissing her on the cheeks. “May I?” He gestured the empty spot on the bench next to her.
 

Clémence didn’t know where to begin. She had so many questions. Luckily Carlos started talking without any prompting.

“I saw you yesterday at the restaurant, and I didn’t know if it was you, so I asked the waitress. They said you owned the
Damour
chain. Why didn’t you tell me you owned the patisserie that makes my favorite macarons?”
 

“Well, my parents really own the place. I saw you yesterday too, and I didn’t know whether I should’ve said hello, since you were with a date and we hadn’t been in touch for so long. Plus, I didn’t know what had happened to you when you left a couple of years ago.”
 

“About that—I’m glad I ran into you because I want to apologize. I really had a lot of fun with you girls and I would’ve loved to stay, but there was a family emergency and I had to go. My mother had fallen ill. She’s okay now, but she had a brain tumor that had to be removed, so I flew back to Spain the next morning as soon as she called me. I left a message with the concierge to tell you that I left but it sounds like they didn’t give it to you. I was going to send you a text message, but someone stole my phone when I got to the airport, so I didn’t even have contacts for any of you girls. I’m so sorry.”
 

“Oh.” Clémence took a moment to take it all in. “I’m sorry about your mother. We were wondering what had happened. I take it everything’s okay with your mother now?”
 

“Yes, she’s fine. Made a full recovery.”

“That night, you kissed Emily, right? And then me. On the same night.”
 

She didn’t mean to sound accusatory, so she pressed a smile. She just wanted to find out what he had been thinking.

“I was a little drunk that night,” said Carlos. “You are all beautiful girls, and I went a little overboard. I’m sorry. But I’ve matured since then. Now I’m in love.”
 

“With the girl you were with yesterday? Sophie?”
 

“Yes.” He beamed. “Do you know her?”
 

“Not directly. But I know of her. Does that mean you’re staying in Paris now?”
 

“Yes. I’m living with her. She has really changed me. Oh, by the way, Carlos is my middle name. I go by Juan. Juan Carlos Camondo.”
 

“Oh. Okay. I should start calling you Juan then?”
 

“Yes, because Juan is my real first name. I wanted to change it to Carlos, but I realize that it didn’t suit me.”