Murder in Nice (27 page)

Haley settled herself on the bed next to the
bag and lifted out a pale pink silk and lace babydoll camisole.
“Pretty.”

Grace sat down on the other side of the bag
and sighed. “Am I doing the right thing, Haley?” Haley dropped the
negligee and reached over the bag to take Grace’s hand. “One thing
I know is that happiness doesn’t go in a straight line. And it’s
the jagged parts that hurt.”

“
I feel like I’m slamming
the door on my life before today and nailing it shut. There’s no
going back.”

“
There’s always a way back.
If that’s what you truly want.”

“
And if I don’t know what I
want?”

“
Well, I always think
trying things on for size, or taking a few steps down a new road,
helps to shine a light on what you really want.”

“
You are a seriously wise
woman, Haley.”

They both laughed. “Now if I could just use
some of that wisdom in my own life,” Haley said, the smile dropping
slowly away from her face.

“
Anything happening lately
between you and Ben?”

Haley shook her head. “Nothing bad. Nothing
good. Just…nothing.”

Grace squeezed Haley’s hand and stood up and
walked to her dresser. She pulled open a drawer and lifted out a
matching bra and panty in black lace. “I guess if I’m going to go
down a new road I should start by being honest with myself.” She
returned to the bed and carefully placed the lingerie in the
bag.

“
It’ll all work out, Grace.
Did you ever get back to Windsor about letting your oldest daughter
visit you here?”

Grace shrugged. “He said he didn’t want to
interrupt her school year.”

“
What about the Christmas
holidays?”

“
He said it made more sense
for me to come back to the States with Zouzou than sending Taylor
over here. He’s right. It does make more sense. I hate separating
the girls.”

“
Are they
close?”

“
No. Taylor is hard to
love, frankly. She doesn’t care at all that Zouzou and I are
gone.”

“
I’m sure that’s not
true.”

Grace smiled at Haley. “All family stories
aren’t warm and fuzzy.”

“
I guess I know that better
than anyone.” Haley stood and walked to the door to leave. She
turned and smiled sadly at Grace. “You know I’ll take good care of
Zouzou while you’re gone.”

“
That means a lot to me,
Haley. Thank you.”

“
And
that
sounds like you’ve finally made a
decision.”

“
I guess I
have.”

Sixteen

Holy crap.
Desiree is a convicted murderer? And Randall knows this? And the
Nice police know this?
How is that not one
hundred percent relevant to Lanie’s murder?

Maggie sat on top of her carry-on luggage as
she waited for Randall to sort out the hotel bill and finish
loading the car. Janet stumbled over toward her. With anyone else,
Maggie would be tempted to think it was the uneven stones in the
sidewalk.

“
Did you see her?” Janet
asked Maggie without preamble. “Was she just going into
surgery?”

Maggie frowned and looked past Janet, where
she saw Bob putting his wallet away and walking toward the car. He
looked like he’d aged since breakfast.

“
She didn’t need surgery,”
Maggie said, standing.

“
Is it true Bob had someone
lying in wait for her?” Janet dropped her voice to a loud whisper
that caused her husband and Desiree—both of whom were standing by
the front bumper of the car smoking—to turn toward her. “That he
was trying to
assassinate
her?”

“
Don’t be ridiculous,”
Maggie said, her eyes on Desiree. When the Frenchwoman saw Bob
walking toward them, she tossed her cigarette down and hurried
toward him. He put his hand up to forestall any attempts on her
part at communication. Nonetheless, Desiree began speaking French
to him in a low voice.

Randall put his hand in front of her face,
as if to push her away. “I can’t frigging understand you so just
stop,” he said with irritation, moving past her. “Everybody’s bags
in?” he called out. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Janet looked at Maggie. “We’re leaving
Dee-Dee in Arles?” The smell of wine poured off the older woman’s
clothes, her hair, her breath.

“
I have no idea,” Maggie
said, picking up her bag and rolling it to the car.

She handed her bag to Randall, who placed it
in the trunk without looking at her. Desiree was at his elbow, a
pleading look on her face, but she didn’t speak.

“
May I have a word, Bob?”
Maggie asked, her eyes on Desiree.

Without answering, Randall turned and walked
away from the group. Maggie followed.

“
What happened with the
police?” she asked as he lit a cigarette.

“
Dee-Dee dropped the
charges,” he said, sucking in sharply on his cigarette.

“
What made her do
that?”

Randall narrowed his eyes at her, but Maggie
knew he would answer. Whether he was still afraid she might bring
up the little matter of his unannounced visit to her room the other
night or whether he was just worn down from the day’s events, she
saw he didn’t have it in him this afternoon to play games.

“
My producer faxed a
contract to the hospital giving her the co-host position or
twenty-five g’s, my choice. She signed it.”

“
I’ll bet she did. You
gonna give her the money?”

“
I don’t know.
Probably.”

“
Because you still think
Desiree’s the right one for the job?”

Randall laughed, but it wasn’t a nice sound.
“Dee-Dee’s going to have a seven-inch scar on her calf. She might
even walk with a limp."

“
So she no longer fits the
part.”

“
Seriously? Gimping around
Europe with a big-ass scar up her leg? Wardrobe would never be able
to put her in shorts when we do the Italian Riviera. She actually
had a decent body before she met El Toro.”

Maggie forced her face not to show her
revulsion at his insensitivity.

“
You’re not worried about
Desiree’s criminal past coming back to bite you on the
ass?”

He started and nearly dropped his cigarette.
“How the hell did you find out about that? My producer got those
files expunged.”

“
Wow. Your producer really
earns his money.”

“
Besides, there were major
extenuating circumstances. It’s not like she’s a
murderer.”

“
Of course not.”

“
It was an ex-lover. I told
you, she’s very passionate.”

“
Are you still going to
hold up her alibi for Lanie’s murder?”

Randall tossed the cigarette down and ground
it out with his shoe, his patience clearly finally drained. “I
believe your chariot awaits, Madame. I promised your husband I’d
have you home before you turn into a pumpkin.” Without another
word, he strode to the car, got into the driver’s seat and laid an
arm on the horn. Maggie walked to the SUV and climbed into the
backseat. Jim and Janet were already there. Desiree sat in the
front with Randall.

“
Where’s Olivier?” Maggie
asked, but no one answered her.

It’s going to be a
seriously tense forty minutes to St-Buvard
.
Maggie pulled out her phone to see if Laurent had called her back.
He hadn’t.

“
Chérie
,” Desiree said to Randall, her hand snaking along the top of
the back of the front seat to rest on his shoulder. “Do not let us
end this way. Please let us finish our adventure in glory, not
recriminations and unspoken—”

“
What the hell are you
talking about?” Randall said in frustration as he fired up the car
and began backing out of the parking lot of the hotel.

“
Please give me the chance
to make it up to you. It’s just ten minutes away by
car—”

“
You cost me twenty-five
grand!”

“
Je suis
désolée!”

“
Désolée
my ass! You’re crazy is what you are.” He lowered
his voice and muttered, “You’re all crazy.”

“
Think of it,
chérie
. If you give the
co-anchor slot to me everyone will know there can’t be a breath of
guilt attached to you over the incident with Lanie.”

“
How do you figure
that?”

“
Is it believable that two
people so in the public eye could get away with murder and then go
on to anchor a major popular television show? It’s
incroyable
. No one would
ever believe it. Better yet, they’ll feel
sympathique
toward you, toward us…and
the show.”

“
I don’t need the sympathy
vote, Desiree. I’m innocent. Remember?”

Maggie was astounded that the two of them
would have this conversation in front of her and the Andersons. It
was a testimony to Desiree’s desperation, and Randall’s
callousness.

Desiree responded, her voice wheedling. “But
in our business, it’s all about perception, no? Let us show the
world together that we have nothing to apologize for. Make me your
co-anchor.”

He hesitated but Maggie could see he was
relenting. “You’re crazy,” he said.

“
Peut-être,”
she said, tentatively touching his arm and trying
to catch his gaze
,
“but I think we can make that work.”

Maggie felt the tension in the car build as
the silence grew. Wedged in-between Janet and Jim, she almost felt
like she was watching a movie. An irrational part of her was
tempted to reach out to try to raise the volume just a tad.

“
We need one last
presentation,” he said quietly, lowering his voice for the first
time as though finally aware they had an audience, “so Dee-Dee’s
isn’t the final one.”

Desiree put her hand on his
neck and leaned toward him. “
Le Abbaye des
Martyrs
,” she said. “It is ten minutes
away. Let me remind you of your faith in me.” She dropped her
voice. “Just ten minutes away.”

*****

Laurent worked the kinks out of his neck as
he drove the last curve of the long drive to Domaine St-Buvard. It
had been a long day. Even in the growing dark, he could make out
the rough outline on the horizon of his vineyard. For the first
time in months, he felt his heart lift to see it. His meeting with
Adele ensured the continuation of his life here with Maggie and
Jem. It wouldn’t be the same, true. He and Maggie would have to
have a painful heart-to-heart about the foreseeable future of their
finances.

But in the end, it would work out.

As he pulled up to the
gravel parking lot in front of the house, he saw the shadowy form
of Ben Newberry leaning against the front pillar, smoking. Laurent
grimaced, but thought in light of the new, positive change of
circumstances perhaps the man could be endured for a few days more,
at least for Maggie’s sake. It would take more energy and drama to
throw the
putain
out than to finish the visit. He turned off the car and
watched Ben approach him.

Laurent had spent too many years studying
people not to have figured out some basic assumptions about
unspoken human behavior. After having been caught red-handed last
night ransacking Laurent’s study, Maggie’s brother was apologetic
and pleading.

But this evening, Ben’s posture as he
sauntered to the car told Laurent the man had rebounded. To affect
this kind of confidence in the wake of last night’s humiliation
told Laurent that the snake had replenished his venom. Laurent
waited for him to come.

“
Care to take a little
ride, Laurent?” Ben said smoothly when he reached the
car.

Laurent hesitated only a moment and then
nodded. “Get in.”

They drove in silence back down the long
driveway toward the village. Laurent knew it was likely that
whatever gambit Ben had up his sleeve was not as potent as the man
thought it was. Even so, long years in the trenches had taught
Laurent not to assume too much. Better to be prepared for whatever
was coming than taken unawares. He drove to the gravel turnaround
at the entrance to St-Buvard and pulled onto the verge. He didn’t
bother turning the car off. And he didn’t speak.

“
I’ll need the light for
this little magic trick,” Ben said, reaching up to turn on the
car’s interior light.

Laurent watched him, his eyes missing
nothing. There was a stain on the man’s shirt from lunch. He reeked
of tobacco, so had evidently been attempting his nonchalant welcome
home for Laurent for hours. And Ben’s fingers trembled as he
reached into his jacket pocket, belying his outward presentation of
calm and control.

Ben unfolded a copy of the Ordeur contract
and placed it on the dashboard. Next, he took a pen out of his
pocket and put it on the pages.

He’s
confident
, Laurent thought.
I’ll give him that
.

Ben pulled an envelope out of his breast
jacket pocket and extricated a photograph. The image was grainy,
the background broken up and indistinct. The figure in it,
unmistakable.