French Weddings Can Kill You

by Rebecca Dunsmuir

  The animals were walking toward a door when they heard two loud gongs. D’Artagnan jumped. Could this place get any scarier? He looked forward to getting out of here.

  “What the heck was that?” asked Bronx.

  “Human time signal. Although time means nothing to us anymore, we still need to know what time it is for the living, so we don’t stay outside too long. Usually, by the fifth gong, we must all get back to this room.”

  “All of you?” asked Bronx. “Wow. It must be a heck of a crowded room by then! How do you do that?”

  Before Wilbert could answer the cat’s question, their attention was diverted by loud weeping a few feet away behind them. The animals turned around.

  “Oh, my!” said Wilbert with interest. “A newcomer!”

  D’Artagnan squinted. “This person looks familiar…”

  A distraught woman floated around fast in the room, going desperately from one ghost to another, questioning them frantically. “Where am I?” What is this place? What is going on?”

  “Well, it looks like you guys got a new corpse in here!” said Bronx, amused.

  Chapter 23

  A nita woke up at 6 a.m. in the guest room she occupied in the castle. Amanda had kindly offered to let her stay there until she found a place to rent in the village.

  She showered quickly, put on her uniform, and took her wig from the Styrofoam head on the bathroom counter. She brushed it and slid it along her scalp. Once the wig in place, she applied a light layer makeup on her face, checked her watch, pulled down on her white apron and flattened it with her hand. She looked at herself in the mirror. Satisfied, she left the room and went downstairs. The castle was quiet, there was no activity yet in the corridors.

  Isabelle was removing piles of linen from a dryer when Anita arrived in the laundry room. She pulled open the door of the other dryer and did the same to help her colleague.

  “Good morning. How was your first night in the castle?” asked Isabelle. “Did any ghost visit your room?” Isabelle made a funny face, wiggling her eyebrows.

  Anita chuckled. “If one did visit, it must’ve been disappointed because I didn’t notice anything. I was sound asleep. Yesterday was so exhausting my eyes closed as soon as my head hit the pillow. Today won’t be better. With the wedding, it’s going to be crazy.”

  “You’re right. Have you seen the crowd of reporters outside?”

  “Reporters? No. What are you talking about?”

  “They’re planted on the grass. There are cars and trucks, some even have set up tents as headquarters! They’re blocking the way to the castle. Just driving here was something. It’s a good thing Amanda asked André to put fences out there to create boundaries, if not we would have a media invasion.”

  “They’re allowed to report on the wedding?”

  “My understanding is some of them are accredited, but I suspect the crowd out there has a bunch of undesirable guests who invited themselves without permission. Journalists, you know… I’d hate being famous. Having people after me all the time like this… I don’t understand how she does it.”

  “Who?”

  “Élodie Faber. I wonder how she can live like this.”

  “She seems to like it,” answered Anita.

  Isabelle shrugged. “Maybe,” she said, walking with a bunch of napkins toward a steam press. She lifted its top, placed three napkins flat on the board, then pulled down the press top. She disappeared behind sizzling steam clouds for a few seconds. Then she lifted the press top and handed Anita the napkins freshly pressed.

  Anita folded them with care and started a pile. Isabelle was pressing a second round of napkins when shouts came from upstairs.

  “Did you hear that?” asked Anita.

  They stopped their work to listen. They heard someone yelling. It didn’t sound like a child playing or a loud laugh. It was a shout of horror.

  Isabelle turned the steam press off and the housekeepers ran out of the laundry room to see what was going on.

  Chapter 24

  É lodie’s father stood frozen in his blue pajamas, staring at the floor. He kept shaking his head, repeating “No, no, no.”

  Élodie’s mother, in a white nightgown, was shouting “Who did this to my baby?” while Flora held her by the shoulders to comfort her.

  Paul, in blue boxers and an open bathrobe exposing his torso, looked at the scene, paralyzed, unable to do one sensible thing. He stood there, speechless.

  Élodie was lying on the bridal suite floor, wearing her wedding gown. Her white veil was wrapped tightly around her neck. Her eyes were wide open, but her body was lifeless. Oddly enough, her face was heavily made up. Big traces of red lipstick went way past the contour of her lips, two patches of pink blush powder had been generously applied to her cheeks, and black eye shadow was spread all around her eyes. Whoever had killed Élodie also had wanted to make the young woman look utterly ugly and ridiculous in death.

  Mrs. Faber’s little white dog was greedily licking the makeup off Élodie’s face.

  Anita ran into the suite and picked up the dog. “Isabelle, get Amanda, now! Someone, call an ambulance or the police instead of watching!”

  Isabelle immediately ran out of the suite. She had to push through the crowd of guests in sleepwear and robes that stood by the doorframe. They stared at the dramatic scene, shoving each other to better see Élodie, commenting with exclamations of horror as if it were a show.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please, go back to your rooms!” yelled Isabelle. “Show some respect. There’s nothing for you to see!”

  The guests barely moved.

  Amanda arrived a few seconds later to discover Élodie’s dead body on the floor.

  “Oh, my God! What happened?” she asked.

  “I heard someone shouting,” answered Flora, “so I ran out of my room and figured out it came from Élodie’s suite. When I arrived, her parents were here, standing, looking at her, on the floor. Unfortunately, I believe she… She was already… dead.”

  Élodie’s mother started to cry. Flora helped her into an armchair.

  Mr. Faber’s face was pale. He raised empty eyes on Amanda. “What’s going on?” he said.

  “Sir, would you like to sit?” asked Amanda.

  “What?” answered the man. Then he collapsed.

  *

  A few minutes later, police officers and paramedics arrived in the suite. Guests were told to return to their rooms and to stay put until further notice. Nobody was allowed to leave the castle. It was an order.

  A short plump man with a thin crown of gray hair around his otherwise bald scalp walked toward Amanda.

  “I’ve been told you’re the castle owner,” he asked. “Ms. McBride?” The man was about to present his hand when a sudden sneeze stopped him. He took out a large rumpled handkerchief from the pocket of his brown jacket and rubbed his nose with it vigorously.

  “Yes,” answered Amanda. She didn’t dare to present her hand in return. Although, she thought, her fear of catching germs was probably not the biggest concern at the moment.

  The man sneezed again and buried his red nose in the handkerchief. His eyes and eyelids were red too. He talked through the handkerchief with a duck voice. “Raymond Duclos, Judicial Police Officer. What do you know about what happened here, Ms. McBride?”

  “Not much,” said Amanda. “I only arrived in the suite a few minutes ago and discovered the scene you’re witnessing now. Élodie Faber’s parents, Flora Guardian and Paul Dumont were already here. They might be more helpful.”

  “Ah,” said the man. Keeping the handkerchief over his nose. Duclos walked toward Mr. and Mrs. Faber. A paramedic was giving them water and sedatives.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Faber, my sincere condolences,” said Duclos. “I cannot imagine how terrible it must have been for you to discover your daughter like this. I’m sorry.”

  Mrs. Faber kept crying. Her dog, sitting on her lap, mimicked her with irritating high-pitched lamentations. Helpless, the g
rieving mother watched as crime scene investigators in white jumpsuits took pictures of her deceased daughter. They collected and sealed various items into plastic bags they put into boxes.

  Mr. Faber sat on a chair beside his wife and kept looking at the floor, absent. Flora and Paul stood in a corner.

  “Now, madam, I’m afraid I have an unpleasant question,” said Duclos. “Could you please tell me exactly what you saw when you arrived in the suite earlier?” Duclos raised his head as if he were about to sneeze again, which intrigued the little dog who stopped whining and stared at him. The man prepared his handkerchief, but this time nothing happened. Just the frustrating feeling of a failed sneeze.

  As Mrs. Faber recounted the sad events of the morning to Mr. Duclos, Bronx and d’Artagnan walked into the suite. Amanda ran toward them.

  “Where were you?” said Amanda. “I looked for you everywhere!”

  The person lying on the floor intrigued d’Artagnan. The dog was about to sniff Élodie’s body, but Amanda stopped him in time. Ah! I knew I had seen her somewhere, he thought.

  Bronx quickly walked along the body, waving his tail. Ah. Yeah. We’ve seen her. But she’s definitely not at her best right now.

  Then a huge, loud sneeze exploded and startled everybody in the room. All eyes turned to Raymond Duclos. The officer nervously searched his jacket for something but didn’t seem to be able to find it. Then he breathed heavily, trying to draw in as much air as he could. Unsuccessfully. His chest was moving up and down fast and his lungs whistled. His face turned red, then purple and then… he collapsed. Dead.

  *

  “Excuse-me, could you repeat that, please?” asked Amanda, in shock.

  “Fatal asthma attack,” answered the paramedic. “Sometimes, it is that fast, and there’s nothing we can do. It’s probably the pets in the room that triggered it,” he added, leaving the room.

  Horrified, Amanda slowly turned toward Bronx and d’Artagnan, looking at them as if they were guilty. The dog frowned, looking insulted, and the cat meowed something in protest, whipping his tail in denial. Hey, blame the ridiculous, white fluffy marshmallow over there instead. He was here before us.

  And it was not one, but two corpses that left the bridal suite that morning.

  “I believe we have collected everything we needed,” said another crime scene investigator to Amanda, while locking down the room. The woman put a yellow stripe across the door with the words POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. She left Amanda with two police officers.

  “Miss, I’m afraid we can’t question the guests now,” said an officer. “We must wait for the headquarters in Paris to assign a new Judicial Police Officer to lead the investigation. But it’s Sunday. They might send someone tomorrow or on Tuesday. In the meantime, all of your guests must stay in the castle until the new investigator arrives. Including your staff. Officers will stay posted outside, day and night to make sure nobody leaves.”

  “Are you kidding me?” said Amanda. “I have a business to run! Some guests are supposed to check out today and new ones are supposed to check in. What will I tell them? The castle is full, I don’t have additional rooms for my employees either. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Sorry, miss, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that,” answered the officer. “May I suggest you offer the incoming guests a rebate and find them another place to stay in the village?”

  Chapter 25

  W hen the paramedics put two stretchers with body bags in the ambulance, the journalists posted in front of the castle ignored the fences they weren’t supposed to cross. They jumped over them.

  They raised their arms, holding above their heads microphone poles, barking questions, and flashing their cameras. It created an instant chaos that only the reporters seemed to fathom. The police officers could barely keep them away. Finally, the paramedics were able to close the ambulance doors. They turned the siren on. The loud noise chased the reporters away, clearing the path to let them exit the property.

  A few seconds later, a cacophony of cell phone notifications spread in the crowd. The journalists checked their phones’ screens. A massive wave of shocked exclamations rose into the air.

  A short video was playing on a loop, showing Élodie Faber’s corpse on the floor of the bridal suite.

  Like famished dogs who had found meaty bones, the journalists naturally rushed to their respective teams to start working on their next assignment: reporting the scoop.

  Chapter 26

  B ertrand and Camille had the difficult task of explaining the delicate situation to newly arriving guests in the lobby once they had braved the barrier of harassing reporters outside.

  Fred, the tour guide, had been appointed ‘chauffeur’ for the day and would drive the new guests to The Little Norman, the only other hotel in Orvilly-sur-Mer. Régine and Paul were Amanda’s friends, always ready to help, and happy to welcome more business.

  Amanda and the staff gathered in the restaurant. Pierre was there too for the delivery of the wedding cake. He had just learned the terrible news. They all sat around a table, silent, staring at the cake placed at the center. It had three round, tiered cakes, layered with Crème Chantilly, fresh strawberries on top, and little dark chocolate hearts strategically placed here and there. A gorgeous ‘pièce montée,’ as French people call it.

  D’Artagnan stood close beside Amanda, not leaving the marvelous tiered cake out of his sight. He’d die for a piece of this gigantic treat.

  “What are we going to do with it?” asked Pascal, one of the kitchen staff members.

  The Great Dane grumbled something. What a question! We’re going to eat it, of course!

  “I don’t know,” answered Amanda. “We can’t touch it. It would be disrespectful.”

  The Great Dane laid on the floor, whining with disapproval. Damn! This is torture.

  Liliane poured coffee into mugs and the employees passed them around.

  Amanda rested her elbows on the table and cupped her face with her hands. “This is horrible. It’s the second murder within six months, and two more deaths,” she said. “I swear this castle is cursed! It will get an awful reputation and ruin my business in no time. All this is such a horrific disaster. What’s wrong with this place?”

  Pierre’s arms circled Amanda’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head tenderly. For a few seconds, all the women around the table forgot about the murder and wished the handsome baker would kiss and hug them like this. Dark hair, blue eyes, muscles showing under his white shirt. There was nothing to dislike about him.

  Liliane gave a cup of coffee to Amanda. “Don’t worry about this, Amanda. We’re here to help you. Right?” The woman gave a long look to the employees. They all nodded. “See! And who knows, maybe it will bring more business to the castle? A famous young actress dead before she even gets married, what do you think all the reporters out there are doing right now? They are preparing the next headlines that will spread in the media like wildfire. I know it’s sordid to see it this way, but it’s free publicity coming our way.”

  “Liliane is right,” said Anita. “Although all this is horrible, this is exactly what will happen. When will the new Judicial Police Officer arrive?”

  “I have no clue,” answered Amanda, sighing. “A police officer said tomorrow maybe or Tuesday. They don’t seem to care about what happens here because it’s a small village. It’s why I had to investigate myself a few months ago when Martin Plouque was killed.”

  “Oh, no. I bet they will care this time,” said Isabelle. “With a famous actress involved, I think they will want to solve this as soon as possible so they don’t look like a bunch of idiots in the media.”

  “Yes. But our main problem now is what to do with the guests,” said Amanda. “We can’t keep all of them here until the investigation is resolved, who knows when? So, I only see one solution.” She took a sip of coffee. The employees stared at her boss, awaiting her next words.

  “I have to resolve this case myself.” />
  Chapter 27

  A n hour later, thirty-two registered guests were called to the ballroom, except for Mr. and Mrs. Faber, Paul Dumont and Flora Guardian who could stay in their suites due to the special circumstances that affected them personally.

  People sat on the chairs the employees had placed in rows. They were talking loudly, grabbing sandwiches and drinks that the kitchen staff had put on tables along a wall.

  “When will we be able to leave?” asked a man. “I have to go back to work tomorrow! And I’m sure I’m not the only one here, right?”

  Some agreed while others said they were quite happy to prolong their stay in the castle.

  “I know,” said Amanda who stood before them. “I’m so sorry about all this, but as you can understand, this situation is unfortunate, and there’s nothing I can do about it until the new Judicial Police Officer arrives.”

  “When?” asked a woman.

  “Well, this too, I’m afraid I can’t say for sure,” answered Amanda. Protests rose in the room. “But there’s something we can do together,” she continued.

  “And what is that?” asked a guest.

  “Well, as some of you might know, last April I solved a crime because I was in a similar situation.”

  “Yeah, we heard,” said someone. “That’s becoming a suspicious pattern, all of these murders occurring here.”

  A few guests chuckled.

  “Believe me, I dislike it as much as you do, if not more,” continued Amanda. “But we could shorten the time you’re stuck here if you agreed to answer a few questions. All we need to know is who was where and doing what when the crime happened.”

  “You have absolutely no authority to do this!” complained a man.

  “Yes, that’s true,” said another one.

  “You’re right,” replied Amanda, “but this is our only practical solution for now if we want to go back to our lives as soon as possible.”

  Guests started to talk to one another, debating the proposal. The hubbub spread in the room and the volume rose quickly.