Harper Lin - Patisserie 07 - Madeleine Murder (8 page)

Carolyn, Damour’s head manager, had gone home sick. Celine called Clémence to come in because they needed help at the
salon de thé
. They were dealing well with the heavy traffic at the restaurant until a customer became upset about a lost reservation and demanded to see a manager. Since Damour was less than a five-minute walk from her apartment, Clémence agreed to come in and sort it out.  

After talking to the irate man, she could tell that he was lying and never made a reservation in the first place. Bad liars usually had a tell, and he blinked too much when he was insistent on his story that he’d made the reservation five days ago. Clémence didn’t want to reward liars, but luckily for him, a table opened up by the time he’d finished ranting, and Clémence showed him and his wife to their seats. She would keep a closer eye on this couple in the future.

Since she was already at Damour, she decided to check in the kitchen. When she entered, the sweet aromas hit her. She never got tired of the smell of a kitchen, especially one that was as big and busy as the one at Damour. The energy and rhythm of her bakers and chefs never failed to liven her up. She went to her usual spot at Berenice and Sebastien’s table. A tray of lavender madeleines had just come out of the oven. Sebastien was mixing the lemon glaze to dip them in, but Clémence couldn’t help trying one. It was a new flavor that she hadn’t tried after all. 

“Delish,” Clémence said. 

The madeleines recalled what Rachel said about how much Nicole Blake loved Damour madeleines. She would’ve loved the lavender ones.

“What happened to Carolyn anyway?” Clémence asked. 

“I don’t know,” Berenice answered. “She’d been nauseous all morning. It might be food poisoning, since she dined out with her husband at some new restaurant last night.” 

“I hope she’s alright.” 

Clémence shot Carolyn a text, asking how she was.

“Clémence, are we still on to work on the new éclair flavors for our winter collection? I have some ideas.” 

“Oh, sorry, Sebastien. I know I said I would, but I have to do something tomorrow.” 

“Clémence is in the middle of a murder case, remember?” Berenice said. “You know how she gets when she’s investigating.” 

“Oh yeah. I forgot,” Sebastien said sheepishly. “How’s that going?” 

Before she could answer, Clémence got a call on her cell phone. It was her friend, fashion designer Marcus Savin.

“Clémence,
ma belle
,” the top designer greeted her in his jovial voice when she answered.

“
Ça va
, Marcus? Are you all ready for fashion week?” 

“I live for fashion week in Paris,” Marcus said. “You’ll be getting an invite to my show soon, like I promised. Say you’ll be there?” 

“Of course I will.” As long as she solved this murder case by then, that was.

“Great. I have you seated in the front row. Sophie and Madeleine Seydoux are both walking in my show. Are you sure you don’t want to walk too?” 

“
Non
, Marcus. I really wouldn’t be good on the runway. I’d probably fall, and people will probably put that up on YouTube. Plus, I’m too short to be a model.” 

“Come on, Clémence. Sophie is only five-foot-seven.” 

“Kate Moss is also five-seven. I’m only five-four. Trust me, I’m better behind the camera.” 

Marcus sighed. “I figured you’d say that, but you can’t blame a poor designer for trying. So here’s the thing. You know how my ready-to-wear collection is inspired by Damour’s desserts?” 

“Yes.” Marcus had consulted her about his collection. She’d given him a lot of free macarons and other colorful treats to inspire him. As a result, many of his pieces were in the vibrant shades of Damour macarons. The fabrics used were as light as the cream of their pastries and cakes. 

“I just had the fabulous idea of incorporating real desserts in the show. They need to be eye-catching, so I’m thinking cakes. Big, extravagant cakes to match the outfits.” 

“How extravagant?” Clémence asked.

“Enough to make a statement, but not too much to take the attention away from the clothes. The cake and the clothes should complement each other. I’m thinking one cake could be dotted with macarons. Another can be a multi-tiered opéra cake. And then a Charlotte Royale cake. All with a Damour twist.” 

“Okay. I can visualize it. If I make an opera cake, that would match one of the coats in your collection. And the swirl pattern in your tops and skirts would go with the Charlotte Royale.”

“
Exactement.
I knew you’d get it. You think that your bakers can do it for me in time?” 

“Sure. The only problem is, the cakes can get pretty heavy. Are you sure these models can carry so much weight as they’re walking down the runway?” 

“That’s true,” Marcus said. “Well, they don’t have to be real cakes. They just have to look like it.” 

“Okay, we’ll use styrofoam on the inside. How’s that?” 

“Genius.” 

“Too bad you won’t be able to eat them after.” 

“That’s true.” 

“I’d be happy to make you an edible cake too, to celebrate the show.” 

“That’d be great, Clémence. Why don’t you come in my studio on Friday, and we can discuss everything in person.” 

“Friday?” Clémence wasn’t so sure that she could make it. What if she had to follow up on a lead? “Can I get back to you on that, Marcus?” 

“Sure. But don’t wait too long. Fashion week is three weeks away.” 

“We’ll get it done, I promise.” 

“I’m so excited. It’s a win-win for the both of us. Damour will surely get more publicity after the show.” 

“It sounds great, Marcus. Thanks for the opportunity. Hey, now that I have you on the phone, I want to ask, do you know anything about Nicole Blake?”

“Nicole? No. It’s so sad, her death. I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her, but I’d always wanted to. Now it’s too late.” 

“Have you met Sarah Briar?” 

“She’s cute too. But no, haven’t met her either.” 

“What about Zach Brant?” 

“Zach?” His voice dropped. “Yes. We’ve dressed him once for the Venice Film Festival.” 

“What did you think of him?” 

“Oh, you know, handsome as a goon.” Marcus sounded resentful.

“Is that a bad thing?” Clémence asked.

“It is if the guy’s trying to hit on your boyfriend.” 

“Wait, Zach was trying to hit on Brice?” 

“Yes. You’ve met him. You know how gorg my Brice is. Zach Brant noticed it too. This was three years ago, when Zach wasn’t as famous. When we were doing the fitting one day, Brice came in, and Zach spent the whole time buttering him up.” 

“What are you saying? Zach is gay?” 

“Yes. Of course he’s gay. I’m surprised no one has caught on.” 

“Fully gay?” 

“Well, who knows, but you’ve seen the girls he’s dated. Total snoozers. You’d be surprised how many seemingly straight guys are gay in the film business.” 

“Wow.” 

“I’m surprised there haven’t been more gay rumors about Zach,” Marcus said. 

“Are you sure?” Clémence asked.

“I didn’t ask him outright, but I know when someone’s trying to hit on my boyfriend. It was very disrespectful, and now I’m never going to dress the guy again.” 

“Oh boy,” Clémence said. “My friend Celine is going to be disappointed to find out about this.”

The film crew was shooting in a house in Montmartre. When Clémence reached the small winding streets north of Paris, she spotted the house Sophie had texted her the address of.

Sophie was shooting that morning. She had a scene with Zach Brant, who was playing her boyfriend. Since films were shot out of sequence, this was a scene from the beginning of the film, before Zach’s character dumped Sophie for Nicole.

Sarah Briar was also supposed to be on set later that morning. The schedule gave Clémence an opportunity to talk to Zach first.

In a white house with vines crawling up one side, sectioned off from the street by a gated brick wall, crew members were coming and going out of the front door. The house across the street, which was similar but pink, was where the actors were shooting. Clémence could see the lights set up inside through the windows. There were also wires coming out the front door that were connected to power generators.

She arrived early in the morning at eight a.m. as Sophie had suggested. The call time for the actors had been earlier, at six thirty a.m., and they should’ve been finished with their makeup and wardrobe by now. As she walked through the front gate, a young woman holding a clipboard and wearing a headset stopped her. She looked straight out of a ’90s American grunge music video in her red flannel shirt and ripped jeans. Clémence told her that she’d been invited by Sophie Seydoux.

“Right.” The girl inspected her with her coal-rimmed eyes. Her nose ring glistened in the sunlight. “Sophie did tell me she was expecting you. But you’re not a reporter, are you?”

Clémence was dressed in a more subdued outfit—a black V-neck sweater, gray tweed pants, and black ballerina Chanel flats. She wondered what part of her outfit screamed reporter, but perhaps the girl had gotten used to reporters coming on set to interview the actors.

“Ah, no. I’m just a friend.”

“Are you here for a reason?”

“Well, I’m looking for a change in career. I’m considering working on film sets, so Sophie invited me to come and check it out.”

“Oh? What fields are you interested in?”

“I don’t know. Maybe costume design?”

“Sophie might be able to introduce you to Breanne Dune. She’s our costume designer.”

“Okay, sure. Thanks.”

“Sophie’s on the second floor, second room to the left, in the room marked with her name.”

“Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Jane.”

“Thanks, Jane.”

Clémence went upstairs, passing a couple of sleepy-looking crew members on the way. Sophie’s door was closed, and she was about to knock when she noticed Zach’s name on the door next to hers. His door was ajar, and Clémence peeked in.

Oddly enough, Zach was snacking on some madeleines. Clémence wondered if they were from Damour. It was; she spotted Damour’s signature lavender bag embossed with their gold logo on a coffee table. She supposed the crew was still getting their desserts and snacks from Damour even now that they’d moved to Montmartre.

“Clémence?” Zach opened the door wider.

She jumped back. How could he have seen her? Then she saw the full-length mirror against the back wall. He’d probably seen her reflection.

“
Bonjour
,” Clémence said awkwardly.

Zach’s beautiful features were already twisted into a look of annoyance. “What are you doing? Are you even allowed to be here?”

“I was visiting Sophie.”

“Sure you are. Are you here to accuse me of murder again, or were you hoping to catch me without a shirt on?”

Clémence rolled her eyes. She entered his room without being asked in and shut the door behind her. “Zach, remember when I said I was going to figure out what you were hiding? I know what your secret is.”

“What? How I was sneaking off on trysts with Nicole, that I couldn’t possibly resist her?”

He was trying to sound full of bravado, but his smile had faltered, and Clémence could detect a hint of worry in his eyes.

“I know you’re gay.”

His blue eyes flashed with surprise, but he quickly recovered, twisting his lips into an even meaner smirk. “What? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Come on, you’re gay. I know you are.” Clémence crossed her arms and tilted her head at him expectantly.

“Please. Every actor’s the subject of gay rumors.”

“You’re from a small town in Texas. Growing up, you had to prove your masculinity, didn’t you? Is that why you’ve never gotten along with your father? I read your interviews. He used to be a star quarterback in high school, and all you wanted to do was go to theatre class.”

“That’s not true,” Zach insisted. Blood rose to his cheeks. For an actor, he wasn’t good at hiding his feelings.

“Did he use to beat you?” Clémence asked softly.

Zach got more and more red.

“What’s the shame in being gay?” Clémence tried again. “What did your father do to you?”

“He was a bastard,” Zach growled. “He did beat me, but it was because he was a bastard. Not because I was gay.”

“And your mother,” Clémence continued, “she’s a devout Catholic. She must’ve cried herself to sleep knowing you are who you are. That’s why you moved so far away. That’s why you’re not speaking to them anymore, even though you’ve made millions at the box office.”

“You don’t know anything about my mother. For the last time, I’m not gay!”

“And I heard you turned down the starring role in the Harvey Milk biopic. Why was that?”

“The script was awful. I didn’t get along with the director.”

“The film won two Academy Awards,” Clémence said.

He looked as if he either wanted to punch something or break down and cry.

“Give it up, Zach,” Clémence said softly. “Keeping this secret is eating you up inside, isn’t it? Always having to act macho, taking on the role of the handsome love interest, or the asshole frat boy, or the infallible action hero. I know you’re an actor, but you can’t pretend to be someone else in real life too.”

Zach sat down on his sofa. His eyes fluttered, and he looked as if he wanted to disappear. “Yes,” he whispered. “Okay. Fine. You got it. I’m…I’m attracted to men.”

“Nicole knew, didn’t she?”

“Yes. She found out. But I wasn’t lying when I said that Nicole tried to seduce me. First day on set here in Paris, she called me into her hotel room to practice my lines with her. When I came in, she was on her bed, completely naked.”

“So she knew then, when you rejected her?”

“Maybe. She watched me closely after that. I guess her ego was bruised. And I was also in a relationship with someone, a stunt devil, and I guess she found out that I was always contacting him to see if he was alright when he was in the hospital after a stunt gone wrong. And there are some attractive grips on set. She must’ve caught me admiring them on occasion. It was my own fault for not being more careful. She knew. And she tortured me about it, always threatening that she’d go to the press about it one day, or she’d just let something slip by accident. I really hated her. She just loved seeing me squirm.”

Zach was gripping a water bottle that he’d picked up from the coffee table. The veins of his bicep muscles popped. He threw the bottle against the wall.

Clémence flinched, but Zach only buried his head in his hands. “My career would’ve been ruined. God, did she enjoy seeing me suffer. Every day, she’d taunt me. She’d put pages from gay magazines under my door, or prompt the guys to make gay jokes whenever we were standing around on set, knowing that this would all hurt me.”

“Do you actually think she would’ve revealed your secret?”

“Yes, if I’d pissed her off enough. But she would’ve wanted to hold on to the secret for as long as possible. She loved having control over others.” Zach rubbed his face, hard. “So what, now that you know, are you going to out me? Tell the police that I killed Nicole because she had something against me?”

Clémence took a deep breath. “No.”

Zach jerked his head back up at her in surprise.

“Because I don’t believe you killed Nicole,” Clémence said.

“You don’t?”

“No. I think that as difficult as this was, you wouldn’t kill over it. If your secret was revealed, isn’t there a part of you that would’ve actually been relieved?”

Zach shook his head, but his body went limp. A softness came over his face. He let out a long sigh.

“Probably.”

He looked up at Clémence, those famous blue eyes wounded. She could see the scared puppy behind that masculine facade.

“What would happen if you were to come out?” she asked.

“My life would change. Fans might abandon me. I wouldn’t be getting the same job offers.”

“Are those roles what you really want?”

His face scrunched up. Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel burnt out. My life is more truthful on film. I feel more real when I’m acting.”

“Look, I’m not here to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your career or your life,” Clémence said. “It’s not really my place. But if you’re willing to risk being suspected of murder just to keep your secret, you’re killing yourself on the inside.”

“You’re right. I hate to say it, but you are right. Enough people know my secret. They’ve been respectful not to reveal it, but I’m tired of the charade and the media games.”

“Right now, you have bigger things to worry about. Someone on this set is a murderer.”

“Are you sure?” Zach asked. “I always assumed she killed herself, and that you guys would come to that realization sooner or later. Take it from me. Some of us are really messed up. Who’s to say that Nicole wasn’t messed up enough to kill herself? She did all sorts of things for attention. Manipulating people, using her looks. The whole reason for her drive for fame was to be seen as someone superior, beautiful, talented, powerful. It wasn’t enough, obviously. Maybe she realized that in the end.”

“It does sound logical, but her assistant was definitely murdered.”

Zach frowned. “Really?”

“Yes. The police confirmed it. Rachel was strangled by someone before being strung up to the chandelier with a belt. She knew too much. She was convinced that Nicole was murdered, and the day before her death, she was determined that I help her find out the truth.”

“There were no fingerprints or DNA or anything?” Zach asked.

She shook her head. “They’re working on it right now. And I’m here on this set doing my part. I need your help. You see, we also confirmed that Nicole had been pregnant when she died. The police just confirmed it this morning. Do you have any idea who could’ve gotten her pregnant?”

“What? No. I have no idea.”

“You don’t know if she had a boyfriend, or was seeing someone on set?”

“No. Nicole would never let anyone in on her private life. If Rachel didn’t know, I would know even less. She’d do everything to uncover your secrets, but she would never reveal her own hand on purpose.”

Clémence also told him about the agenda and the code name she had uncovered, Honcho.

“Honcho?” Zach repeated. “No, I’ve never heard that name.”

“I’ve read in the papers that she might’ve been seeing someone named Elon Marchese. Do you know who he is?”

“Who’s Elon? Elon…Elon…His name does sound familiar.”

“He’s a French businessman, and he has property in Paris, Miami, and L.A. He owns a few fashion houses—”

“Oh! I do know him. I’ve met him at parties and talked to him once. He’s quite intimidating.” Zach got quiet for a second. “You know, I do remember seeing him at the Athena Hotel a couple of weeks ago.”

“Really? So he was dating Nicole?”

“No,” Zach said. “I didn’t see him coming out of Nicole’s room. Sarah’s room is right next to mine. We’re both at one end of the hall. Once, I was coming out of my room and saw him walking past me. He’d been coming from the direction of Sarah’s room.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“Yes, I saw his profile. He didn’t see me though. He just got onto the elevator as I was coming up behind him.”

“So Elon wasn’t dating Nicole, but Sarah?”

“Maybe. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Sarah’s love life is none of my business. But yeah, maybe she is dating Elon.”

“That explains it,” Clémence said.

“Explains what?”

“Why Nicole and Sarah never got along. They were fighting over this guy.”

What if Sarah killed Nicole because she found out that Elon had been cheating on her with Nicole? Clémence wouldn’t put it past Nicole to taunt Sarah with her pregnancy.