Crêpe Murder: Book 4 (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) (7 page)

“This was last year?” Madeleine asked.
 

Clémence nodded. “On May 28. Looks like our Juan, or whatever his name is, wants to make this an annual project. The inspector has a decent photograph of him now for his investigation.”
 

She explained how the photo came from a freeze frame of his face from store surveillance.

“It makes sense now why he’s so camera-shy,” said Madeleine. “When I asked Sophie to send me pictures of Juan, she couldn’t because she said Juan didn’t like having his picture taken. He claimed he had an aversion to the paparazzi ever since he was a child and wanted utter privacy, so Sophie respected it.”
 

“I’m hoping Inspector St. Clair knows what he’s doing this time,” Arthur said.
 

“He’s working with the police from Austria and Switzerland to find out Juan’s real identity,” Clémence added.

“But will it be too late?” Madeleine moaned. “Why haven’t they called us yet?

“I bet Juan’s a real nobody,” said Theo. “No wonder he’s so under the radar.”
 

Clémence nodded. “Like he told me once, he’s just an average guy. Just a guy using his good looks and charm to make a buck off his rich victims. He’s pretty good. He really studied the behaviors of the rich. Not that I’m an expert on upper class society, but he had me fooled.”
 

“He had us all fooled,” said Madeleine. “I wonder what’s taking so long for him to contact us. Sophie has been gone since the weekend. At first, I didn’t think much of it when she didn’t return my texts because she was so wrapped up with Juan. He was all she talked about. When she missed family dinner, we all speculated whether she went off on an impromptu weekend trip away with him. Then I got the text and had to call the police.”
 

“Yes, Cyril told me about that. I wish she was able to write more to tell us where she was.”
 

Tears welled in Madeleine’s eyes. “The inspector said she probably couldn’t finish her text because her kidnappers took the phone away—Juan’s phone. Do you think he punished her for that? I just want her back. We’ll pay the ransom. Why don’t they just call?”
 

Clémence put a hand over hers. “Let’s figure out what we can. I do think it’s a bit odd that they haven’t called your family for ransom yet, since the article said they had called the Egle family on the same night, but maybe they will later today. In the meantime, we need to find out more about Juan and the whole kidnapping procedure. I want to get in touch with Livia Egle. She’s the only one who lived through this whole ordeal. She must be able to provide us with some valuable information.”
 

“Okay.” Madeleine stood up and went to look outside the window. She gripped her cell phone in her hand as she stared out onto the street below. “I must know somebody in my social circle who can put me in touch with her. I’m going to make a few calls.”
 

CHAPTER 9

Clémence left Madeleine to make the calls to her friends. She went back to her apartment alone, where Miffy greeted her excitedly since she’d been out of the house longer than usual. Clémence usually went home for lunch to take care of her little white Highland Terrier. Miffy was her parents’ dog. Since she was house-sitting for them, she was also the dog-sitter. Miffy was the most cheerful dog Clémence ever had the pleasure of knowing, and the sight of her boosted her spirits immediately.
 

She forwarded Emily’s contacts to Cyril on her phone. On the way home, she’d talked to Emily herself, but she didn’t tell her anything new that Clémence didn’t know already.

Disappointed by the lack of clues, she made herself a shot of espresso in the kitchen. She sat down at the breakfast table with a notebook and pen, and wrote down everything she knew about Juan and the kidnapping case so far. It didn’t help her gain any new insights as to who Juan was and where he might’ve taken Sophie, but she felt better to write it all down. It made her feel as if she was doing something when there was nothing much she could do at the moment. All the different names and lies that Juan used were confusing, and it might come in handy to keep them straight.
 

She wondered what kind of story he had told Livia Egle. Was it really that easy for a man to make a girl fall in love? Was love real if it only one person felt it and the other was faking it?
 

Poor Sophie. Not only must she be scared out of her mind in her hostage situation, she was probably also sad and heartbroken. Clémence couldn’t imagine what she must be going through.
 

Clémence felt as helpless as Madeleine, not knowing which step to take next in finding Sophie. Only Cyril would have the resources to uncover Juan’s identity, but would that even help? Even if they found out who he was, how would they know where Juan had taken her? It could be in Paris, it could be in another city or town in France, or it could be in another country all together. Her main hope at this point was to talk to the Swiss heiress. Maybe there were some patterns from Juan’s behavior and tactics in that hostage situation that could point her in the right direction.

On a separate page, she prepared a list of questions she wanted to ask Livia. The heiress had not given any interviews to the media about what had happened. Instead she had avoided the spotlight for months. It must’ve been a painful topic for her. Clémence didn’t want to cause Livia further pain with her questions, but they needed to be asked.

She did some more research on Livia on the internet. She read through all the kidnapping articles, as well as old interviews that revealed more about Livia’s personal life.

Livia Egle was the heiress of her father’s real estate company. She had been a popular socialite and It girl, often traveling to New York and Paris to keep up with the fashion scene, until the kidnapping incident. After she was released, she became averse to the camera.

She still had her high-end jewelry line that was well received on both sides of the pond. Now 30, she lived a more grounded life, designing jewelry behind the scenes and traveling around the world with her tech entrepreneur boyfriend. There were still some recent paparazzi shots of the heiress, but she was always wearing sunglasses and never smiled anymore.

This was in contrast to the old Livia, pre-kidnapping, when she used to happily step out to red carpet events and pose for the cameras with the eagerness of a girl on the verge of becoming the next big thing.

As Clémence looked through photos of the icy blonde, who bore a resemblance to Grace Kelly, she noticed the gorgeous dresses she used to wear. No wonder Livia was considered to be a fashion icon. Several of the gowns and party dresses were made in the same flowy style in muted colors, and designed by someone she’d never heard of: Marcus Savin.
 

Clémence read one of her old interviews from an online fashion magazine where Livia talked about how her favorite designer was this Marcus Savin. He was a designer friend whose work she was obsessed with.
 

The designer’s last name was French, and after Googling him, Clémence found out that not only was he from Paris, he had a store not far from where she lived, on Avenue Montaigne. She wondered if the designer knew Livia, and whether he could help her get in touch with her.
 

As she began dialing the number for the Marcus Savin store, Madeleine called her. She told her that she did manage to contact a friend who knew Livia.

“Where is Livia right now?” Clémence asked. “Did you find out?”
 

“She’s on a plane back to Switzerland from Russia. But get this, she’s planning on coming to Paris tomorrow evening for a private party. Apparently her family sponsored the Royal Jewels exhibit at the Grand Palais, She rarely makes appearances at big events, so we’ll be able to talk to her in person. That is, if I can score invitations to this party.”

“Wait, the party is at the Grand Palais?”

“Yes. For one evening only. It’s by invitation only, for special guests. I wonder why I wasn’t on the list. But no matter. I’ll make some more calls, and I’m sure I can get us in.”
 

“But can’t we talk to her before then? Tomorrow’s a bit late. Can we get in touch with her by phone or Skype today?”

“I’ll try, Clémence, but my friend Laura says Livia’s busy traveling. Laura can’t even get hold of her at the moment. All she knows is that Livia’s going to be at this party.”

“Okay.” Clémence was disappointed.
 

“But I’ll try harder,” Madeleine insisted. “I’m calling more friends to see if anyone else knows her and can reach her.”
 

“Thanks, Madeleine.”
 

By the time Clémence started on dinner, Madeleine called back with good news and bad news. The good news was that she’d scored invitations for the four of them. The bad news was that Livia was still hard to reach. Since she was on a long flight back from Russia, her phone didn’t have a good connection.
 

Their best bet to talk to her was to go to the party. Livia might not have a spare moment tomorrow either because she might be jet lagged and taking another flight from Switzerland to Paris.
 

Arthur dropped by after dinner. He was obliged to dine with his family because one of his brothers had done well on his exams. Clémence invited him to the party at the Grand Palais as her date and he accepted.

They discussed the case a bit, but it wasn’t long before they were talking in circles. Ultimately there was nothing much they could do until they spoke to the heiress.

“Maybe by tomorrow, something will have happened,” Arthur said. “The Seydoux might finally get the ransom call, or the police might find Juan’s identity or even a location. There’s nothing we can do, so let’s relax for the evening.”
 

“You’re so sensible.” Clémence kissed him on the forehead.
 

Arthur and Clémence had shared a bed the previous night, and he seemed keen on spending another evening there as well. Was he planning to make it a habit?
 

She didn’t mind. More than didn’t mind. She used to think that dating a neighbor was a bad idea, but now she realized how convenient it was.
 

Together in bed, he held her close and she drifted off to sleep smelling his warm scent, with the lingering thought that she wouldn’t mind if Arthur just moved in all together…

***

In the middle of the night, a noise woke Clémence up. The walls of her building—in most French buildings for that matter—were as thin as Bandaids. She was used to hearing creaks, thuds and voices at all hours of the day, but something about this noise alerted her to consciousness. Had it been a door closing? Her own bedroom door?

“Arthur,” she murmured. “Did you hear that?”

“Hmm?” Arthur’s eyes remained closed.

Once her vision adjusted to the darkness, she noticed nothing unusual.

Until Miffy suddenly started barking. Loudly, with a kind of ferocity that she’d never heard from her dog before.

Clémence shook Arthur awake.

“Arthur, get up. Even Miffy’s scared. I think there’s someone here.”
 

That got Arthur’s attention. He got out of bed and tried to shake himself awake while his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“I’ll check,” he whispered.

Arthur unplugged a lamp from one of the bedside tables and took the shade off. It was one of her mother’s antiques, made out of brass. It was sturdy and long enough for Arthur to defend himself should he need to.

Sometimes Clémence was creeped about about living alone in such a big apartment. There were three bedrooms and two bathrooms, plus an extra toilet in a small, closet-sized room with a tiny sink. While her parents’ bedroom was next to the living room, she took one of the guest rooms, accessible through a long hallway.

They turned on the lights in the hallway, which revealed nothing unusual. The end of the hallway led them to the front door.
 

Miffy had calmed down at this point, and at the sight of them, she ran to her. Clémence wanted to hug her, but she had to keep her arms free in case she needed to defend herself.

Ready for action, Arthur checked the main bedroom, including its bathroom and the connected walk-in closet. He checked the living room, the office and the kitchen. At Clémence’s insistence, he also went back to the hallway to check the other guest bedroom.
 

Nothing.
 

“Everything seems normal,” Arthur announced. “Do you see anything missing?”
 

“No,” Clémence said. All of her mother’s jewelry were in her box. The valuable artwork and antiques were all in their place. “But do you smell that?”
 

It was faint, but there was a hint of something in the air. An oak moss smell.
 

“I think it’s men’s cologne.”
 

“Maybe.” Arthur sniffed. “It’s not very strong, but I smell it too.”
 

“Someone was definitely here.”
 

Clémence turned the knob of their front door. It opened easily. At night, Clémence locked the front door from the inside. The apartment had an alarm, but she only put it on when nobody was home. It wasn’t convenient to put on the alarm at night. She would set it off as soon as she passed one of the alarms and she wouldn’t be able to walk freely around the apartment.
 

“So someone broke in,” said Arthur. He looked at the lock from the front of the door. “These are pros. The lock doesn’t look too tampered with. Are you sure you locked it tonight?”

“Positive.”
 

Clémence called the police, then she called her security company, letting them know of a break-in.
 

“Do you think this has anything to do with Juan?” Clémence said, her eyes wide. “He’s still out there, and he’s kidnapped one heiress.”
 

Arthur went silent for a moment. His eyes darkened. “I’d say there’s a pretty good chance.”