Crêpe Murder: Book 4 (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) (8 page)

“What if their plan was to kidnap me tonight? They might’ve even opened my bedroom door and saw me because I heard a door close. Maybe they expected me to be alone, but saw you, so they decided to abandon the attempt. Then Miffy started barking at them in the hallway and that scared them off. Oh my gosh. Good thing you were here with me.”
 

Arthur pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t worry, you’re safe now. Whoever it was, they’re gone. Maybe it was just a failed robbery attempt. It happens a lot in the 16
^th
.”
 

“Sure, but it seems like too much of a coincidence. What if he wants to get me too? Maybe that’s why he hasn’t contacted the Seydoux family for ransom money yet. He planned on kidnapping me too.”
 

CHAPTER 10

The police showed up. With no evidence and no witnesses other than Miffy, all they did was file a report. Their gardien, the caretaker of the building whose own apartment was situated near the front door of the building, didn’t see or hear anything unusual either.
 

Clémence didn’t give up so easily. She called Inspector Cyril St. Clair in the middle of the night and told him her theory that she’d been the target of a kidnapping attempt.

In the past Cyril might have written her off, but due to her string of successes in solving murder cases, he begrudgingly gave her the benefit of the doubt.
 

The next morning, Cyril came over with four members of his forensics team.
 

“Your damn dog probably ruined a lot of the DNA evidence on the floor,” Cyril complained. “Keep her contained.”
 

Miffy was already in her arms. Clémence sighed. She hadn’t had a lot of sleep, and she didn’t want to start another argument with Cyril so early in the morning. She had been planning on asking Madame Dubois to keep Miffy until Cyril’s team was finished anyway.

Most of her neighbors, including the Dubois family on the third floor, heard about the break-in. Unfortunately, this also prompted Arthur to reveal to his family than he had been with Clémence during the night because they were dating.

Madam Dubois was thrilled. She’d wanted her eldest son to go out with Clémence for some time, and she felt proud, as if she was responsible for making it happen.
 

When she answered the door, looking chic as usual in a powder blue Chanel jacket and skirt set, she began gushing over how thrilled she was about Arthur and Clémence being an item.
 

Clémence blushed and thanked her. It was funny how Madame Dubois was more interested in their budding romance rather than the break-in.

Arthur came to his mother’s side. “
Maman
, you’re embarrassing Clémence.”
 

Miffy ran into the living room to play with Youki, a Jack Russell terrier belonging to the Dubois family.

“I’m just happy that my son’s actually dating someone wonderful for a change. Oh, and it’s a pity about the robbery attempt. I know how horrible that feels.” Madame Dubois had been robbed before. The family also owned an estate in Honfleur, which wasn’t in use for most of the year. Four years ago, the thieves had taken off with their precious paintings that had been in the family for years.
 

“It wasn’t a robbery,” said Arthur. “It was a kidnapping attempt.”

“Oh, a kidnapping. Right. The point is to be careful. I’d get a bodyguard if I were you, Clémence.”
 

“I think I’m all right for now,” said Clémence. “The police are going to keep an eye on the building for the next little while.”
 

“And I’ll be by her side,” Arthur said.
 

Dubois beamed proudly at her son. Arthur used to date all sorts of girls that his mother didn’t approve of, and Clémence must’ve seemed like a saint in comparison. Clémence was glad to have her approval, and it wasn’t going to be long before her own parents learned about their relationship. That cemented it. Clémence and Arthur were officially a couple.
 

Clémence excused herself to go back up to her apartment. Arthur walked her up.

“The kidnappers probably won’t attempt anything in the daytime anyway,” said Arthur. “Too many people are coming and going on the streets and in this building. But as soon as it gets dark, you’re sticking with me, Clémence. Why don’t you come sleep in my room on the roof tonight?”
 

Since the rooms on the top floor were so small, there must’ve been at least seven other tenants living up there, including Ben. Kidnappers wouldn’t be able to walk down the hall without their footsteps alerting attention. Even if they were successful, their escape would be difficult, as they would have to run down seven flights of stairs.
 

“It’s not a bad idea,” said Clémence, “but isn’t it a bit small for the two of us?”
 

“It’s not small, it’s cozy.”
 

Clémence laughed. “Fine. We’ll pretend we’re camping in a tent.”
 

Arthur needed to finish some work at the library, and he kissed her goodbye. “Stay away from dark alleys.”
 

“I will.”
 

“Seriously. I’ll be home before it gets dark.”
 

Back in her apartment, Cyril’s forensics team were still busy gathering evidence. Clémence didn’t know whether it was fortunate or unfortunate that she wasn’t able to get a glimpse of her midnight intruders. Maybe they had guns on them or brought rope to tie her with. She shuddered at the thought.
 

She wanted to do something useful, like work at
Damour
, but she knew she would be too distracted to do a good job. Instead she hung around at home, anxious to see if the team would find anything.

“So Cyril, anything new on the kidnapper?” she asked.

Cyril crossed his arms. His nostrils flared and his eyes rolled. His bad humor was even more evident in the early morning.
 

“Not yet, Damour.”
 

“Really? I thought you said you were confident you would be able to find out Juan’s real identity.”
 

That did it. Cyril lost his temper.

“Damour, we’re trying to do our job. Will you just leave us alone? I can’t do anything with you breathing down my neck.”
 

Clémence didn’t like to be yelled at, naturally, but she knew Cyril had a point. She wasn’t helping much sticking around and asking questions. She decided to take a walk outside for some fresh air.
 

As she made her way to Place du Trocadéro, Madeleine called her.
 

“Clémence! Are you okay? Theo told me someone broke into your apartment last night. It must’ve been so frightening!”
 

“I’m okay, Madeleine. Nobody’s hurt.”
 

“I’ve been paranoid myself, but now it looks like it’s for good reason.”
 

“I really didn’t expect it,” Clémence said. “They already have one girl. I think they’re getting pretty greedy with two.”
 

“A double-kidnapping,” Madeleine remarked. “We should all be careful. I’m staying with my boyfriend Henri tonight. I doubt they’d want to kidnap me too, but you never know.”
 

“Right. It has to be Juan. It wouldn’t be hard for him or anyone on his team to have figured out where I live. It’s so creepy to think that someone followed me home, and devised a plan to try to take me in the night. I guess that’s why they haven’t made the ransom call to your family yet. They wanted to wait to get me.”
 

“I feel so helpless,” said Madeleine. “What can we do?”
 

“We’re going to this party to meet Livia tonight. It’s the only thing we can do for now. What time should we meet?”
 

“Let’s go early in case Livia gets there early. The invite says 8pm, but we can try 7:45pm.”

“Sure.”
 

“It’s going to be a big event with lots of important people. Anyone who’s anyone is going to be there. It turns out that some of my friends are going too. I can’t believe I didn’t get an invite without having to ask! Sophie would kill to come—” Madeleine stopped, realizing why they were going to the party in the first place. “I miss Sophie. I hope she’s okay.”
 

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this tonight,” Clémence reassured her, even though she wasn’t 100% confident.
 

“My parents are extremely stressed. Did the inspector tell you what he was able to find so far? He wouldn’t tell us anything.”
 

Clémence bit her lip. She was tempted to complain about Cyril’s incompetence and how they didn’t find out much so far, but she didn’t because Madeleine was in enough pain already.
 

“He’s doing his best,” Clémence replied. “Who knows, maybe he will find some DNA or clues or something from my house. Let’s try to stay optimistic.”
 

“Okay, well, I’ll see you at the party tonight. It’s not very fashionable to be early, but who cares about keeping up appearances at this point. Oh, and it’s a black tie event. Do you have something to wear?”
 

“Good question,” said Clémence.
 

“If you don’t, I’d be happy to lend you something. Although I’ve been photographed in most of my dresses. We’ll probably be photographed tonight as well.”
 

“Thanks, that’s very sweet. Maybe it’s best to buy something.” She thought about the Marcus Savin store. “I think I’ll head down to Avenue Montaigne and do some shopping to unwind. If I don’t find something, I’ll take you up on your offer.”
 

“Yes, shopping’s a great stress reliever. Oh, what about makeup and hair? Who’s doing it for you?”

“I am.”
 

“Darling, it’s best to get a pro and I have a couple people coming by my house to do my hair and makeup tonight. Why don’t you come to my house before 6pm tonight so we can get our hair and makeup done together?”
 

“Sure,” said Clémence.
 

CHAPTER 11

Clémence didn’t have to go home and look inside her closet to know that she didn’t have anything for a black tie event. She hadn’t updated her wardrobe in the two years that she’d been gone, and the gowns she did own she had been photographed in as well. She understood Madeleine’s caution. If she wore one of them again, the tabloids would surely criticize her for recycling old dresses.

As funny as it sounded, she needed to buy a new dress to avoid media attention. If she wore a decent dress, they’d feature her in a fashion or gossip blog or two, instead of ripping her apart for bad taste or wearing an out-of-style dress. To blend in meant having to look as good as the other guests. Like Madeleine, there were going to be well-known and well-respected people at this party, everyone from media moguls, to celebrities, to designers and socialites, such as herself. She didn’t know what else she could be categorized under other than a socialite, as much as she detested the term. In the scheme of things, she was a nobody.

It was silly to be worrying about what she would be wearing to a party given the circumstances, but she couldn’t help but feel nervous about going to one of these events again, especially after she’d avoided them for so long.
 

She wondered if her ex-boyfriend Mathieu would be there. He used to love going to events with her. He was a bit of a social climber and being part of the scene made him feel important and glamorous. Now that he was a little more well-known for his art and a regular fixture on the Paris social scene, maybe he was starting to receive these invitations on his own. She had long gotten over him, but she still hoped she never had to see his face again.
 

Sometimes she did have fun and met all kinds of interesting people as these types of events, and this party sounded like one of the better ones. It was at the Grand Palais of all places. But this time she wasn’t there to party and be photographed like some wannabe It girl. Keeping up appearances used to cause her much more anxiety, but avoiding criticisms from the media (i.e., catty blog posts and tweets) were only of minor importance now. She had bigger things to worry about, like finding out who the kidnappers were, where they had taken Sophie, and how to avoid being kidnapped herself.
 

She went downstairs and walked to Avenue Montaigne where all the high fashion stores were, including Marcus Savin’s. With all the chaos happening around her—and
to
her—recently, she thought it would be a refreshing break to look at some designer gowns. She hadn’t gone clothes shopping in ages.
 

As she passed 5-star hotels, fancy restaurants and wealthy locals and visitors on the street carrying bags from Chanel, Prada and Louis Vuitton, she checked her phone and saw a missed call from Sebastien. They were supposed to be working on a couple of new recipes together and she hadn’t been in all morning. Clémence had to call back and explain again what had been going on lately. She simply wasn’t in the right frame of mind to focus on inventing new dessert and pastry flavors when the kidnapping case was occupying 100% of her thoughts.
 

While she was on her phone, she checked the address of the Marcus Savin shop. She would’ve passed the small store if she hadn’t checked. It was right beside the Valentino store. Unlike the other high end designer shops, the Marcus Savin storefront was not very flashy. There was a small sign, one window display and that was it.

A beautiful lavender dress in the window caught her eye. It was made out of silk, in the same flowy Grecian goddess style that looked so flattering on Livia Egle. Savin’s dresses looked even better in person and Clémence had the primal urge to go in to take a closer look.
 

The dress probably cost an average person’s annual salary, however. Her middle class upbringing always made her hesitant about making extravagant purchases, even though she had the money. She pushed the door open. She could at least look at the gown, right?