Harper Lin - Patisserie 07 - Madeleine Murder

by Harper Lin

“And?”

  “He’s innocent.”

  “Phew. That’s a relief, since I’m about to work with him. How’d you know?”

  “It’s a long story,” Clémence said. Zach’s secret wasn’t hers to tell. “But I think it might actually be Sarah Briar. Or her boyfriend.”

  “Why?”

  “Did you know that she was dating Elon Marchese?”

  “No. I knew she was seeing someone, but she never said who.”

  “I think Nicole was dating Elon too. Nicole was also pregnant, possibly with his child.”

  “What?” Sophie exclaimed.

  “It’s a theory. Either Sarah or Elon might’ve had something to do with Nicole’s death.”

  “I don’t know,” Sophie said. “Sarah’s so sweet. I don’t know if she’s the type that’s capable of murder.”

  “After my experiences, a murderer can be any age, sex, and be from any social class. It really has to do with motive. Sarah has a motive. She had a lot to gain. Jealousy and passion could’ve been at play. If she’s in love with Elon, she might have wanted to kill whoever stood in the way. And if Nicole took everything she wanted from her—acting jobs, the man, and now the baby—she might’ve wanted to do everything she could to keep what she could.”

  Sophie thought about it. “I guess I can see how her life has improved since Nicole has…gone. Sarah’s getting a lot more attention in the press, but you can say the same about me. Wouldn’t I be a suspect as well?”

  Clémence smiled. “You’re too cute to be a murderer.”

  “I know.”

  “Try to keep your eyes peeled, but I do want to talk to Sarah this afternoon.”

  Jane, the grunge girl Clémence met earlier, knocked on Sophie’s door.

  “Sophie? They want you on set.”

  “Thanks,” Sophie replied. She looked back at her script and heaved a sigh. “I’ve never acted in English before, either. In the other scenes, I barely had any lines. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Clémence insisted.

  “What are you going to do? It’s a closed set right now, so I can’t even get you in. If you offend her with all the murder questions, she might complain and get you thrown off set. She’s nice, but she does have boundaries.”

  “The police probably questioned her already. I don’t think telling her that I work for the police would help matters. Maybe you can just tell her I’m one of your friends and that I’m just visiting you on set. I already told Jane that I’m here to check out the film set because I’m thinking of a change in careers. Maybe that’ll get her talking about the set. Plus, actors love talking about themselves, right? She might reveal more if I make her feel comfortable.”

  “Okay,” Sophie said. “I really hope you’re wrong, though. I like her.”

  Clémence thought that Sophie was too trusting. She wore her heart on her sleeve. This had resulted in her getting kidnapped after falling for a con artist in a whirlwind romance. If Sophie wanted to work in Hollywood, she would have to be more discerning.

  “You can’t come into the house we’re shooting in right now,” Sophie said, “but we’re shooting in a café nearby this afternoon. Why don’t you come back then? There’s bound to be a lot of sitting around and waiting between setups, and I’m sure Sarah will be bored and will want to talk to you. She’s usually quite chatty and friendly with the hair and makeup people, so I don’t see why she wouldn’t want to talk to you.”

  With nothing much else to do, Clémence took the Métro back to the 16th. After feeding Miffy, she took her iPad with her to the Damour kitchen. She wasn’t there to work. She just liked spending time there because it was a place where she felt safe, especially when there was a murderer on the loose.

  “You’re still not ready to make the éclairs, are you?” Sebastien asked when she came in.

  Berenice was on her break, and Sebastien was taking up the whole table with all the macarons he was making. The colorful shells were drying on trays before being put in the oven. He was making the ganache filling as he waited.

  Clémence remembered that Marcus Savin wanted them to make cakes for his fashion show, and she told Sebastien.

  “Really?” Sebastien broke out into a toothy smile. It was rare that he smiled—he was so serious—but when he did, it was like sunshine breaking through gray clouds.

  “He wants me to go to his studio to see his designs and plan the cakes to complement them. Wanna come with me?”

  “Sure. When?”

  “As soon as I crack this murder case. Oh, it’s not Zach Brant, by the way.”

  “Celine will be relieved.”

  Not when she finds out that he’s gay, Clémence thought, but she kept quiet. Instead she brought up Elon Marchese. She looked him up on the internet to find out more about him.

  “Get this, his company rivals LMVH. He’s a pretty big deal. Not that handsome, but I can see the appeal. I wonder if Marcus knows whether he’s in town right now.”

  “Call him,” Sebastien said.

  Clémence did just that, but she got his voicemail. She left a message asking him to call her back.

  Chapter 15

  At three p.m., Clémence left Damour to take a taxi back to Montmartre. When she passed the window display of the Damour patisserie, she saw a couple of kids pressing their noses against the glass at the colorful treats inside. The sight of their cute, delighted faces made her smile to herself. She remembered when she was a little girl spending time with her parents as they baked, watching in wonder at all the work that went into a delicious dessert. Now at the age of twenty-nine, she still wasn’t sick of sweets and French pastries. Within the hour, she’d eaten a pistachio éclair, two pumpkin spice macarons, a pain au chocolat, and a viennoise to go with her coffee.

  With a full stomach, she hailed a cab at Place du Trocadero to take her north of the city. Sophie had texted her the address of the café, which was away from the touristic part of Montmartre. On winding cobblestone roads, she passed the charming houses and buildings that were quainter than those in the rest of Paris. The production crew had blocked off the street to shoot in the café. Sophie was doing a scene where Sarah’s character breaks it to Sophie that her boyfriend was two-timing Sophie with Nicole’s character.

  A small crowd had formed to watch the film shoot on the other side of the gated bar. Clémence waved to Jane, who recognized her and let her in.

  Chris, the happy-go-lucky director, was standing next to his director’s chair, talking to an assistant. He looked up and noticed Clémence.

  “Clémence, right? What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Chris.” She smiled. “Sophie said I could come by and observe the set. Hope that’s all right.”

  “Sure, that’s no problem.” He leaned in and whispered, “Watch out for any serial killers among my crew.” Then he laughed as if he’d made the funniest joke in the world.

  Clémence politely smiled back.

  “One of our extras called in sick,” Chris continued. “I know you don’t want to act, but how about filling in as an extra in this café scene?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Cynthia Collins standing around. In a black wool dress, she blended in with the shadows of the trees on the street. She was scowling in Clémence’s direction.

  Clémence was about to decline, but something about the way Cynthia was staring at her made her change her mind.

  “Sure,” she told Chris while holding Cynthia’s gaze. “What do I have to do?”

  “See the other extras in the café?”

  Clémence turned around. There was a bartender, two businessmen at a table, and a middle-aged couple. It was silly, but Clémence had assumed the bartender was real, and the others were actual customers.

  “All you have to do is drink a cup of coffee and read a newspaper,” Chris said.

  “I can do that,” Clémence said.

  “Good. What you’re wearing is fine. Your hair looks good. Diane here
will just put a bit of makeup on you, then off you go.”

  The makeup girl came up and started applying all sorts of powders and pencils on her. Clémence never felt comfortable in front of the cameras, but since extras were basically background scenery, it was fine. Besides, she’d be able to pick herself out on the big screen later on.

  Sophie and Sarah were not on set yet when Clémence sat down at her designated table in the café. They arrived a few minutes later in a minivan, having already changed into their wardrobe, and had their hair and makeup done back in the white house that served as a green room. Chris greeted them and talked to them about their motivation for the scene. The makeup girl and a hairstylist did some touch-ups on the girls, then they were ready.

  “Bonjour.” Sophie waved to Clémence and then turned back to Sarah. “This is my friend Clémence. Clémence, Sarah.”

  Clémence shook her hand. “I was just visiting Sophie on set, but ended up with a plum role as a coffee-drinking extra,” she joked.

  Sarah laughed graciously. Like Nicole Blake, she was also a stunning blonde, but there was something more homely about her, less bombshell. Her eyes were smaller, her lips thinner, but there was something charming about her all the same. She had a great smile, and her skin was luminous, the kind that lit up the silver screen. Could the beautiful actress really be a killer?

  Clémence reminded herself not to get sucked in by appearances. The movie industry was all smoke and mirrors, and so was reality.

  “Are you an actress?” Sarah asked Clémence in a perky voice, the friendly smile still on her face.

  “Oh, I’m a horrible actress. No aspirations there.”

  “Sarah,” Chris called. “I want you sitting here.” As she sat where he wanted, he turned back to a crew member. “Can you bounce the light from this side of her face? Let’s do a light test.”

  “How long do you think you’ll be shooting for?” Clémence asked Sophie.

  She shrugged. “Depends. He’s pretty meticulous, so we could be doing take after take. Unless it’s one of those rare days when he loves everything that we do and we can all just call it a day after two takes. I doubt it though. This is a bit of an emotional scene too. Fingers crossed that I nail it.”

  “Break a leg.”

  The actors took their places. They ran through the scene once before the director began rolling.

  “Light? Camera. Action!”

  Clémence read the most recent story about the French president’s love life in the newspaper. He’d left his long-term girlfriend for a French movie star. The ex had just released a tell-all memoir about her time with the president, and it had caused a national scandal. Clémence didn’t understand what it was about him that made these beautiful, intelligent women fight over him. She supposed power was a strong aphrodisiac. In any case, the president’s love life was dramatic enough to deserve a movie of its own.

  After seven takes, Clémence was starting to get bored. She was reading the same newspaper articles over and over again. How did these actresses maintain their energy levels to do a great job in every take? Clémence realized she had it easy, reading Le Monde and fake-drinking espresso.

  On the fifteenth take, the director was finally happy. He wanted to shoot close-ups of the same scene immediately, which meant the actresses had to say the same lines again.

  Clémence had always imagined movie making to be glamorous and exciting. It was, to a certain extent, but sitting there listening to the actresses on repeat and reading about the president’s ex lamenting over her heartbreak was taking a toll on Clémence. Sophie did tell her it would be grueling, but she didn’t realize that meant boring. She was starting to respect actors a little more, for their patience and their skill.

  When that scene was finally done, they were able to take a short break as the crew set up for another shot in the café.

  More fans had gathered on the street. Many were leaning over on the gate to take pictures, and security did their best to contain them. Sarah convinced Sophie to go greet the fans and take some pictures. Sophie was surprisingly shy, but she agreed. If she was going to be a movie star, she might as well get used to the attention and the fans.

  After they signed some autographs and took pictures with their fans, they ducked back into the café. Sophie led Sarah into the very back. Clémence followed, knowing that this was Sophie’s way of getting Sarah to talk to her alone.

  “Amazing job,” Clémence said to the two of them. “You guys did a bazillion takes.”

  “I could say the same for you,” Sarah said.

  “Yes. Pretending to drink coffee does require a certain skill,” Clémence joked.

  “Excuse me, girls. Drinking all that fake wine comes with consequences.” Sophie went downstairs to use the restroom.

  Clémence was left alone with Sarah. They chitchatted about the movie industry, and Clémence acted extra interested, since her cover was that she wanted to learn about it for her career change. She told Sarah that she hoped to get into producing films someday. Clémence could, if she wanted to, so it wasn’t a complete lie. Since she had the Damour fortune, she did have enough money to invest in a film should she ever want to.

  “But right now, you’re a baker?” Sarah asked. “How cute.”

  Clémence couldn’t help but find Sarah cute too. She was one of those perky blondes whose smile was infectious.

  “It’s fun,” Clémence said. “But I’m one of those people who have a lot of different interests. It’s hard to stay still and stick with one. What about you? Did you always want to be an actress?”

  “Always, always.” Sarah laughed. “I was one of those little girls who would pretend to give Oscar acceptance speeches into my hairbrush.”

  Clémence thought about Nicole, about how close she’d been to winning an Oscar. Sarah had never even been nominated. How jealous had Sarah been?

  “I’m sure you’ll get there,” Clémence said.

  “There’s no rush. Meryl Streep was twenty-eight when she appeared in her first film, and look at her now. She’s my role model. I see acting as a lifelong craft to be mastered.”

  Clémence saw that Sophie had come back from the restroom. Sophie saw them still deep in conversation and started chatting with the makeup girl to give them space.

  Clémence pretended to get a text. “It’s from my boyfriend,” she said. “Aw, he’s so sweet. He’s just texting to tell me he misses me.”

  Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

  “His name is Arthur. Here—” She showed her some photos of him on her phone.

  “Ohh, he’s cute,” Sarah said.

  Arthur was handsome. With his warm brown eyes, strong cheekbones, and kissable lips, he was quite the catch.

  By bonding with Sarah over girly matters, Clémence created the perfect opening to ask about her relationship with Elon.

  “What about you? Are you dating anyone?”

  Sarah giggled demurely. “Well, there is this guy. He’s not in the industry, thank goodness.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s a businessman. He’s a bit older than I am, but he’s cute.”

  “Do you have any pictures?”

  Sarah looked hesitant. “We’re not public or anything.”

  “Oh, I won’t go to the press. I promise.”

  “Oh, what the heck. You look like someone I would trust. Here.”

  She took out her own phone and showed Clémence photos of her and Elon. Elon was a distinguished man in his forties. He had a serious face that looked on the verge of a scowl, but here, with Sarah, he looked at ease. They posed in front of the Louvre, underneath the Eiffel Tower, and at the Pont des Art, putting a love lock on the bridge. Clémence forgot that Sarah was a tourist in Paris and would be as excited as any American to visit the city’s most popular tourist attractions.

  “Hey,” Clémence said slowly. “I know him. Is that Elon Marchese?”

  “You know him?” Sarah turned, eyes
wide with excitement.

  “Well, not personally, but I’ve seen him at parties.”

  “Oh, of course. You’re friends with Sophie, so you must be part of the fashion set. Of course you would be in the same crowd.”

  “I’m not that fashionable,” Clémence said modestly. “How long have you been dating?”

  “About a year.” Sarah sighed dreamily. A year into the relationship and she was still in the honeymoon stage; Sarah must really love Elon.

  “It’s funny. I’ve read about him in Hello magazine once. I thought he was dating Nicole Blake.”

  Sarah’s face darkened a bit. “Oh. Well, it’s a long story. They used to date.”

  “Really?”

  She sighed. “I suppose now that Nicole has passed away, I can say it.”

  “It’s a tragedy, isn’t it?” Clémence looked at Sarah’s face carefully to observe her reaction.

  Sarah did look sad. “It is. It’s unfortunate that we never got along, although I tried.”

  “Why didn’t you get along?”

  “It was the whole thing with Elon. They went out for about eight months before Elon and I started going out. It was all hush-hush. Sarah was so secretive that no one even knew she and Elon were an item. There were speculations, sure, but no real proof. Then he dumped her and started going out with me. We’d met at the MET Gala. The thing was, Elon never cheated on her, but I do admit that maybe we jumped into the relationship too soon after their breakup.

  “I personally didn’t know they had gone out until I realized how Nicole was being towards me whenever I ran into her at events and parties. All these backhanded compliments at first, then the blatant rudeness. She even threatened me once at the Vanity Fair party, told me she wished I’d die after what I’d done. I told Elon because he was my date, and that’s when he told me they used to date. He’d dumped her because she was too demanding, too manipulative.”

  “So this was why you and Nicole were always rivals?” Clémence asked.

  “Yes. From then on, Nicole wanted everything I wanted. She was like a child. She was never able to get over the fact that Elon didn’t want her anymore. If she heard I wanted a role, no matter how insignificant, she’d fight tooth and nail to get it. She took my perfume campaign, my magazine covers, everything she could get her hands on. The girl was mean and vengeful, but in the media, she was still a darling. Fake was what she was.