Murder in Nice (9 page)

“
Non
,” Laurent said, watching Ben, “he uses the co-op, as we all
do, but his is an amalgamated product.”

“
Oh, that’s interesting
that you have a wine co-op here. I’ve read about them back home.
Napa and all that. Winemaking is becoming quite the thing now. More
and more co-ops are cropping up to enable backyard vineyards to
come to table.”

His Internet research on the flight over
hadn’t been in vain. He’d practically written the script out—just
waiting for an opportunity.

He had Laurent’s attention now.

Just as he’d planned.

“
It is true that America
leads the way in the new virtual co-ops,” Laurent said, watching
Ben closely.

I’ve got him.

“
It’s really ingenious,”
Ben said, edging up his enthusiasm level just a tad. He wanted to
appear knowledgeable to keep Dernier engaged, but not so informed
as to not be believable. “It’s been a boon I understand for those
winemakers who don’t have the big bucks to produce their product
without a co-op.”

Jean-Luc finished his drink, said a few
words to Laurent and left the table.

Laurent stared at Ben. “You know a little
about winemaking,” he said.

Shit. Had he said too
much?
He forced a confused look on his
face.

“
I just know what I read in
an article I found in the pocket of the seat on the plane coming
over,” Ben said shrugging.

Laurent nodded slowly, then finished his
drink and stood.

“
On y va
,” he said abruptly. “Maggie will be home.”

Ben didn’t even care that he was following
the man around like a fawning Yorkie. He’d gotten his
attention—without revealing his hand. He felt a flutter of
excitement dance in his gut as he followed Dernier out the café
toward the parked car.

What happens next…well, the big French
bastard won’t even know what hit him.

Six

Maggie had to admit it was good to be home.
Even just a few days away had her relaxed and humming as she drove
up the long driveway toward the house.

An old farmhouse, Domaine
St-Buvard was built with materials from the rough landscape. Stones
of varying sizes were cemented into sloping knee walls, corralling
thick hedges of lavender with stalks of whimsical pink penstemon
peeking out from the other side. Cherry-colored roof tiles spanned
the entire roof and bright blue shutters, handmade in the village
and latched with ironware forged in the seventeen hundreds,
punctuated the otherwise bleak façade of the
mas
with a gesture of wit and
insouciance.

She parked next to Laurent’s Renault and
wondered what her brother had thought when he’d first seen Domaine
St-Buvard.

The front door to
the
mas
swung open
and Grace stood framed in the doorway.

“
Need help with bags?” she
called.

Maggie climbed out of the car, pulling her
carry-on behind her. “Nope. Where is everyone?”

Grace stepped aside as Maggie entered the
front door.

“
Laurent is in the kitchen,
Haley’s playing with the babies in the living room, and here’s you
and me hugging hello.”

Maggie laughed and wrapped a free arm around
Grace. “I’m so glad to be home,” she said. “I’ve got to see my
little man before I go into withdrawal.”

She set her bag down on the pale, yellowing
stone tiles of the large foyer just as Zouzou burst into the room
and threw her arms around Maggie’s knees. Behind Zouzou, Maggie saw
Haley, dressed in skintight jeans and a linen tunic with little Jem
balanced on her hip.

Maggie kissed Zouzou and picked her up. She
was surprised to see how thin Haley was.

“
Welcome home, stranger,”
Haley said as Maggie set Zouzou on her feet. She held Jem out to
her.

“
Oh, I’ve missed this!”
Maggie said, hugging Jemmy as he squealed with giggles. “What a
happy boy you are. Did you miss me at all?”

“
He missed you as only a
boy can miss his
maman
,” Laurent said, coming into the foyer, a smile on his
lips.

“
Hello, you,” Maggie said,
going to him as he pulled both her and Jem into his arms. “Got
everyone settled in I see.”

Laurent kissed her and patted her bottom.
“Dinner in an hour,” he said before turning back to the
kitchen.

“
I love your home, Maggie,”
Haley said as the three women went into the living room.

A tray of iced drinks sat on the coffee
table. “Oh, my God, that man is a mind reader,” Grace said, seating
herself and reaching for one of the glasses.

Maggie settled next to her with Jem on her
lap. He clapped his hands together and pulled at her silk scarf,
stuffing one end of it into his mouth. Her little poodle mix, Petit
Four, jumped up on the couch and settled against her thigh. Maggie
touched the dog’s topknot curls absently.

Haley patted the couch next
to her and Zouzou clambered up. “I see your uncle Laurent hasn’t
forgotten you,” Haley said, handing the child a section of
socca
from a plate of
still-warm chickpea cakes.

“
J’aime
ça
!” Zouzou said, stuffing the cracker into
her mouth and looking in the direction of the coffee table for
more.

“
How much work have you
done on the place?” Haley asked Maggie.

Maggie sighed and reached for her drink.
“Well, I did get Laurent to agree to get the bathrooms updated,
thank God. And we repaired the terrace because I kept tripping over
the broken pavers, but that’s it. I wish we could do more.”

“
Well, it’s simply
gorgeous,” Haley said.

Maggie knew Haley was being generous. She
and Ben lived in one of the wealthiest zip codes in Atlanta. Maggie
was sure Haley’s idea of French Provincial was nothing like the
living room in which she was currently sitting, which was anchored
on one wall by a massive floor-to-ceiling fireplace of stacked
stone and had a double set of French doors on the opposite wall
which led to the terrace.

You’re never truly
dissatisfied until you look at a thing through someone else’s
eyes
, Maggie thought.

Domaine St-Buvard was comfortable. It was
big and rambling, but it was nobody’s idea of a French country
estate by any means. The kitchen had its original stonewalls,
two-foot thick and exposed. The terra-cotta tiles on the kitchen
floor dated back to the nineteenth century and the ceiling arced to
an apex that held a large, circular skylight. The cabinets were
glass-fronted to show colorful local earthenware bowls and plates
within.

Off the kitchen a steep staircase led to the
wine cellar—and because it was used for wine storage, it was the
only room in the house with air-conditioning. Old, stained oaken
barrels lined the cellar’s limestone walls. A rack holding at least
one hundred bottles of wine faced the staircase, minimizing the
steps necessary to replenish party supplies.

Maggie flinched when she thought of their
basement. Something terrible had happened down there one
Thanksgiving five years ago. To this day, if she didn’t have to go
down there, she didn’t.

“
I would kill to live your
life,” Haley said, sipping her cocktail.

“
I didn’t know you were
interested in France,” Maggie said, tipping her head to the side to
see Haley better. “You should have visited before now.”

“
I know we should have,”
Haley said solemnly.

“
I wasn’t fussing at you. I
didn’t mean it like that.”

Grace stood. “Glad you’re back, sweetie,”
she said to Maggie. “I think I’ll help Laurent in the kitchen.”

“
He lets you do that?”
Maggie asked. She kissed Jem’s cheek. “Daddy doesn’t like us
anywhere
near
where
the magic happens, does he?”

Grace laughed and left, her drink in
hand.

“
He doesn’t really keep you
out of your own kitchen, does he?” Haley said.

“
Are you serious?” Maggie
grinned. “Trust me, it’s
his
kitchen.”

“
Well, I guess everything
is different over here.”

*****

An hour later, showered and dressed in a
simple linen sheath with sandals, Maggie slipped into the kitchen,
where Laurent faced a full panoply of pots and pans on the
stove.

“
Tiens,
chérie
,” he said, gruffly. “Go to the
terrace. It is too hot in here for you.”

He turned and wiped a sleeve across his
cheek, his eyes taking her in, fresh from her shower. He wore his
dark brown hair almost to his shoulders and shaggy. His eyes were
dark, nearly pupiless. Maggie always found them sexy, but a little
disconcerting too.

“
But
you’re
in here,” Maggie said, stung at
being ordered out—especially after Haley’s comments.

“
And I will be in our
bedroom later,” he said, a smile edging his full lips, “where you
may have my undivided attention.”

“
It’s not all about sex,
you know,” Maggie said as she swiveled on one foot to make a
dramatic exit.

“
Yes, it is,” he called
after her.

She strode to the double set of French
doors, opened wide to the terrace. It was after nine but still
light out. She saw Grace had lit candles and placed them in nearly
every room visible from the outside where the table was set for
dinner. The heat of the day had given away to a definite chill and
while not uncomfortable, the stack of sweaters and light shawls by
the door would be welcome later.

Haley stood at the outdoor table, her jeans
replaced by a long tunic dress. She’d put her hair up too, Maggie
noticed. She turned when Maggie stepped out onto the terrace.

“
Grace said you had a
babysitter come over to take care of the kids tonight,” she said by
way of greeting.

“
I did. Danielle Pernon’s
grandniece is visiting. The kids love her and she loves
babysitting.”

“
I would have been happy to
give them their baths tonight.”

“
Well, you can do it
tomorrow night,” Grace said as she joined them. “Isn’t it heavenly
out here? Maggie’s got a small plantation of lavender planted just
over there. Can you smell it?”

Haley frowned and looked in the direction
where Grace pointed.

“
The candles are perfect,
Grace,” Maggie said. “And the table is beautiful. I’m such a
slouch.”

“
You were tired after your
long drive from the coast,” Grace said. “Setting the table is fun.
It’s the washing up afterward when you’ll be hard pressed to find
me.”

Maggie laughed. “Laurent does that, too,
although he may leave it ‘til morning tonight.”

“
Oh? Reward redemption
night, is it?”

“
You are so amusing,
Grace.”

Haley turned away and rubbed her arms as if
cold.

“
There are wraps by the
door,” Maggie said to her. “Shall I get you one?”

“
I’m fine.
Thanks.”

“
Where’s Ben? I haven’t
even seen him yet.”

“
Is that a criticism,
because I warn you I’m not as desperate to please as some
people.”

Maggie turned to her brother as he stepped
onto the patio. He wore jeans and a polo shirt with loafers.
Although she didn’t expect a hug, a smile would’ve been nice.

“
Everything okay?” she
asked.

“
What is
that
supposed to mean?” he
said as he found a seat and slumped into it. Laurent came out onto
the patio carrying five wine glasses and a bottle of
wine.

Grace turned to Haley. “So, Maggie says the
two of you were in school together. Is that how you met her
brother?”

“
That’s right. Ben was
three years ahead of us.”

“
So you knew Lanie,
too.”

“
Not really,” Ben said.
“She was just one of my little sister’s amorphous-faced silly
little friends. Made no impression.”

“
Unlike, one would presume,
another of her little friends?” Grace smiled at Ben and nodded in
the direction of Haley, clearly indicating that now would be a good
time to compliment one’s wife.

Ben didn’t respond.

Haley said, “Did I mention, Maggie, that Ben
and I went to my fifteenth reunion at Pace?”

Maggie smiled. “No, you didn’t. Was it
gruesome?”

“
No, not at all. I was
surprised I could convince Ben to come with me, but I think he
ended up enjoying himself. Didn’t you, Ben?”

“
Oh, for Christ’s sake,”
Ben said and reached across the table to take one of the
wineglasses that Laurent had filled.

“
Was Lanie there?” Maggie
asked turning back to the conversation. Laurent got up from the
table and returned to the kitchen.

Haley frowned. “I didn’t see her. Did you,
Ben?”

“
How would I know? I barely
remember what the woman looked like, for crap’s sake,” he
snarled.

“
Well,
you
know Lanie,” Haley said to Maggie.
“If she
were
there,
we would’ve known.” She turned to Grace. “Lanie wasn’t the shy type
even back in high school.”