Chocolat Chaud Murder

by Harper Lin

  “Thanks.” Celine smiled.

  “Are you dating anyone now?”

  “I went out for a drink with someone last week. He’s doing his PhD in philosophy.”

  “Sounds impressive.”

  “I tried to give him a chance, but philosophy is so boring. Plus his breath stank.”

  Clémence laughed. “Okay, that’s a deal breaker. At least you’re getting out there. You’re doing everything you can. You’ll meet him one day.”

  “I hope so.”

  At street level, Clémence led the way to La Belle. Once they passed the busy shopping streets and stepped into the intimate cobblestone alleys, they reached La Belle’s beautiful window display of elegant white dresses.

  “Oh, they’re all so pretty,” Celine said. “I love everything I see already.”

  “Brace yourself,” Clémence warned. She pushed the door open. “Hello?”

  A slim woman with long black hair walked toward them from the back of the store. “Hi, you must be Clémence.”

  “Laurie?”

  “Yes, I spoke to you on the phone today.”

  Clémence nodded and smiled. “I made an appointment to see Eva. Is she here?”

  “Unfortunately, she’s not. I’m sorry. However, I’m available to help you.”

  “Oh.” Clémence was clearly disappointed. “What happened to Eva?”

  “She’s not feeling well today. She asked me to take over and help you. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course. This is my friend Celine. She’s going to help me with my decision today.”

  “Nice to meet you, Celine.”

  “I hope Eva’s okay,” Clémence said.

  “I think yesterday took a toll on her,” Laurie replied. “The murder of our boss, and then all that police interrogation. I was out of town, so I didn’t know about it until the evening when Eva called me.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe something like that could happen here.”

  “It’s sad,” Celine agreed.

  “Eva’s been here for years, so it must be so hard on her,” Laurie said.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “About seven months. I used to live and work in a department store in the south of France, so this is my first job in Paris. I moved here to be with my boyfriend. With recent events, though, I’ve been trying to convince him to move down south with me. Not only is it less dangerous, but the weather is less depressing, and the people are more relaxed.” She shook her head, coming out of her reverie. “Anyway, let’s get started. I pulled out the dress you wanted to see again, according to Eva’s instructions.”

  “So, it’s only you and Eva working here?” Clémence asked.

  Laurie nodded. “Sometimes our shifts overlap. There’s not really room for more than two salespeople anyway. Plus, we usually take one appointment at a time. Two, if we know that the bride-to-be won’t be bringing a lot of people. Sometimes, they bring a whole entourage. Once, this woman brought twelve people. They all barely fit inside the shop!” She shook her head, tut-tutting. “I do hope this store won’t close down because of the awful murder. It’s such a lovely shop, with dresses more beautiful than the big brands, but who knows? With the designer gone, I don’t know what they’re going to do. I didn’t see anything in the papers today about Adine, but I’m sure clients will start hearing about it soon.”

  “Where’s Jennifer?”

  “I haven’t seen or heard from her.”

  “That’s a bit strange, don’t you think?” Celine said.

  “Jennifer? She’s often away in London.”

  “Yes, but shouldn’t she be easy to get in contact with? Shouldn’t she know that Adine is dead?”

  “Oh, she’ll find out eventually. I mean, sometimes Jennifer just gets busy. La Belle is not her priority anymore.” Laurie gave them a strange look. “Do you mean to suggest she could be the murderer? The police already arrested Noel.”

  “Well…” Clémence said slowly. “What if it wasn’t Noel? And what exactly do you mean that La Belle is not her priority anymore?”

  “I hear Jennifer used to be more invested in La Belle. She wanted to expand the boutiques. I used to hear them arguing about it in the atelier. Adine didn’t want to expand, and after a while, Jennifer just gave up. She started spending more time outside of the store. I assumed since Adine wasn’t agreeing to her plans, she was working on other projects. I heard she did some business consulting on the side, but I don’t know for sure. I never asked her about it, because it’s none of my business.”

  “How’s the store doing financially?” Clémence asked.

  “Between you and me? More than well. This is the best-paying job I’ve had. Adine could have been a big designer, but she refused to expand for some reason. She was so talented.” Laurie took the dress off the rack. “Here. Are you ready to try it on?”

  Clémence had more questions to ask, but she figured she could use a break. When she came out in the lace dress, Celine swooned. “I see what you mean now. It’s very you, but not you at the same time. It’s bold yet classy.”

  “So, do you think I should wear this on my wedding day?”

  “I haven’t seen any others, but this is nice.” Celine turned to Laurie. “Can we see her jacked up with the veil and everything?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

  “It really hugs your curves,” Celine said to Clémence. Tears formed in her eyes.

  “You’re crying?” Clémence asked.

  “It’s just so beautiful, and I can picture you walking down the aisle already. I’m so proud to be one of your bridesmaids.”

  “And you’ll look lovely in your dress too.”

  “You are the best bride, letting us wear whatever dress we want. Aren’t you afraid they’re all going to clash?”

  “No. It’ll be great to have some eccentricity. I’m sure whatever you wear will be lovely.”

  Laurie came back with two options for veils.

  “I think these two would work quite nicely.” She held up one in each hand.

  The two veils were almost identical in Clémence’s eyes, so she chose one at random. She turned around, and Laurie helped put it on her. When Clémence turned back to the mirror, she thought she looked like a real bride. All she needed was a bouquet of flowers.

  “You look like a movie star from the ’30s,” Celine said. “A movie star getting married. I can’t imagine you finding a dress more beautiful.”

  “I’m afraid you might be right,” Clémence said, sighing.

  “You don’t sound happy about that,” Laurie noted.

  “The thing is,” Clémence started, “Adine was murdered. Would it be bad luck to wear this?”

  “I know it’s a difficult time,” Celine said. “But there have been designers who were murdered. Like Gianni Versace. Do we stop wearing his clothes? It’s not his fault someone killed him.”

  “Look at it this way,” Laurie said. “I’m sure wherever Adine is, she would be flattered that you chose her design.”

  Clémence looked at herself in the mirror, turning around in a circle. “Let me think about it. The wedding is still seven months away. I have some time to decide.” The truth was, she didn’t feel comfortable buying the dress until the murder case was resolved. “Is Perrie around?”

  “Perrie’s not working today. Actually, I don’t even know if she still works here since she worked for Adine.”

  “I’d like to talk to her,” Clémence said. “I didn’t get a chance to get her number. Do you mind if we contact her?”

  “What did you want to talk to her about?” Laurie asked.

  “What else?” Celine said. “The murder.”

  Chapter Ten

  After Clémence insinuated she worked for the police, she easily convinced Laurie to give them Perrie’s number. Clémence called her as soon as she and Celine left the boutique.

  As Laurie had feared, Perrie wasn’t sure if she had a job anymore. “I tried to get in t
ouch with Jennifer,” Perrie said on the phone, “but she’s not answering my calls or emails, and she hasn’t been on Facebook or Skype. I have no idea where she is.”

  “Have you tried calling anyone she knows?”

  “Yes. I have her parents’ home number. They live in a suburb of London. I thought Jennifer might be there, but they said she was in London two weeks ago. She’s supposed to be in Paris, as far as they know.”

  “This is weird,” Clémence said. “Have you tried going to her home?”

  “No. Should we?” Perrie paused. “What if she is the killer? This is getting too weird. She’s supposed to be in town, but she hides from everyone?”

  “Okay, we’ll get to the bottom of this. Do you have her address?”

  “Yes.”

  “Text it to me,” Clémence said.

  “I can do that. I don’t actually live far from Jennifer’s apartment, so I’m nearby. I’m in the café a block away. They have Internet here. I’ve actually been looking for a new job all day.”

  “Text me the address of the café too. We’ll meet you there, then we’ll go together.”

  “It’s about three blocks from La Belle. I’ll text you right now.”

  Clémence and Celine only needed to walk five minutes until they reached Le Café Vert, a modern café located in the 6th arrondissement and bordering the 5th.

  “I really don’t think Perrie is a suspect,” Clémence said. “I’ll keep my ears open if she lets anything slip, but right now, my money’s on Jennifer.”

  “The whole thing is really odd,” Celine agreed. “It gives me the creeps. Should we call the police?”

  “I’m tempted to, but it wouldn’t hurt to knock on the door at least and see what she says before we jump to any conclusions.”

  “What if she’s dangerous?”

  “There’s three of us,” Clémence said. “Plus, I learned some basic self-defense moves.”

  “I guess you’ve been in enough dangerous situations to know what you’re talking about,” Celine said.

  Perrie was deep inside the bright cafe, tapping away on a MacBook. An empty cappuccino cup and a newspaper were on her table. When Clémence and Celine walked up, Perrie stood up and practically hugged Clémence, even though that was not the French custom. “I’m so relieved to see you. To tell you the truth, I don’t have a lot of friends in Paris, and the events in the last couple of days have really freaked me out.”

  “This is my friend Celine,” Clémence said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Celine said.

  “Hi. Sit down, please.” Perrie gestured to the seats around her table.

  “How did you start working for Adine, anyway?” Clémence asked.

  “I actually went to Italy to study fashion,” Perrie explained. “My mother is Italian. My parents are divorced, and my father lives in Strasbourg. Anyway, I was just applying for jobs everywhere. I went on a bunch of interviews in Paris, and I got the job. It wasn’t very well paying, but it was something. I couldn’t get anything in Italy.” She sighed. “A month in, and I find my boss’s head bashed in. It’s shocking that something like this could happen. I’m still numbed by it.”

  “What was it like to work for her?” Celine asked.

  “This was my first real job working for a fashion designer. Friends warned me that it would be grueling. Since it was a small boutique, I didn’t expect it to be that bad, but it turned out to be challenging, that’s for sure.”

  “Because of Adine, or because of the work involved?”

  “Both. I was always running around or working long hours. I did everything from fetching coffee to booking venues for runway shows. Well, at least that was what I would be doing if I’d kept working long enough. Since I’d only been working at La Belle for a month, I only did the grunt work. No complaints there. A job in fashion is a job. It would go on my résumé, and I’m grateful.”

  “Did you know about the other assistants that have left before you?”

  “Not really,” Perrie said.

  “Nobody told you? Not even Eva?”

  “No. Why? What did she say about the other assistants?”

  “Just that they never lasted long,” Clémence said. “That they quit and harbored hard feelings toward Adine for being so demanding.”

  “Honestly, Adine could be demanding, but she wasn’t so vicious to me. I understood she could be moody or frustrated when she was designing, but she never personally berated me. When she was in a mood, she went up to her room, or she just muttered to herself. I kept out of her way.”

  “So you didn’t find her tough to work for?”

  “The thing with Adine was that she was really hard on herself. She strived for excellence. Sometimes, she would complain if I got her a latte that wasn’t hot enough, or frivolous things like that, but I didn’t take those things that personally. Those insults weren’t directed at me. She just needed to blow off a little steam. I have a thick skin. I mean, my fashion program was very competitive. Girls were way meaner.”

  “Did you know that Jennifer wanted to open up more boutiques?” Clémence asked.

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “I wonder if that was why Adine didn’t want to expand. She didn’t feel like her designs were good enough because she was such a perfectionist.”

  “That could be it,” Perrie said. “If she was deep in designing, I tried to make as little noise as possible. I don’t know why she would worry, though. They usually came out beautifully in the end.”

  “Yes. Jennifer was adamant about expanding, but she gave up. Do you know if she’s working somewhere else on the side?”

  “Yeah,” Perrie said. “She manages the boutique part-time, but Eva does a lot of the work, so Jennifer doesn’t have a lot to do. I think she’s a freelance business consultant on the side, so she works with different companies—startups and things like that. I only know about that because Adine was venting to me once about it. She wanted Jennifer to be more committed to La Belle, which is confusing if Jennifer did want to be more involved and expand La Belle and Adine refused to expand.”

  “Something weird is going on,” Celine said. “That’s for sure. The two women didn’t agree on a lot. Now, one is dead, and the other is missing.”

  “I hope it’s nothing horrible.” Perrie furrowed her brows. “One dead boss is all I can take. Jennifer is really nice, even if I don’t see her that much. She’s smart, and she likes to keep busy. That’s why she’s always on the go.”

  “What do you say we go stop by her home now?” Clémence asked.

  “Sure.” Perrie took out some keys from her bag. “I actually have the key to her place.”

  “Really?” Celine asked. Clémence thought she could hear a note of suspicion in her friend’s voice. “How did you get it?”

  “This is actually Adine’s spare key to Jennifer’s place. She gave it to me last week because I needed to get some papers from Jennifer’s apartment, but Jennifer wasn’t around. I had it in my bag and forgot to give it back to Adine.”

  “If she’s not there, this could be useful.” Clémence stood, prompting Perrie and Celine to get moving with her. “Let’s see what Jennifer has been up to.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jennifer lived above a luxury shoe store that Clémence was no stranger to.

  Perrie had the six-digit code to the small blue door beside it. “I’ve only been here once. She’s on the third floor. Her place is surprisingly big. I wish I could afford an apartment like that. Instead, I’m stuck living in a chambre de bonne.”

  Chambres de bonne were tiny rooms on the top floors of many apartment buildings in Paris. Maids used to live in them in the olden days. Arthur technically lived in a chambre de bonne in their building to maintain his independence, but at least he had access to his family’s main apartment.

  On the third floor, there were only two doors. Perrie turned to the one on the right and knocked. No one answered. “Jennifer?” Perrie knocked again. “J
ennifer. It’s me, Perrie.”

  Clémence and Celine looked at each other. Perrie gave up knocking after a while. “Looks like she’s not in.”

  Clémence gave Jennifer a call one last time. “Her phone is definitely off.”

  “What if she’s kidnapped?” Celine asked.

  “Kidnapped?” Perrie looked concerned.

  “Yeah, what if she didn’t flee or disappear, but she got kidnapped?”

  “If we see something in her home, we’ll notify the police,” Clémence said. “We should probably be reporting her as a missing person at this point too. If her parents haven’t heard from her either, this is serious.”

  Perrie put in the key and unlocked the door. Before she could push the door open, she stopped and stepped back. “I’m getting flashbacks to the scene with Adine. You go. Make sure there’s no dead body in there.” She gave a nervous laugh.

  Clémence didn’t respond. She opened the door slowly. “Jennifer?”

  Silence.

  Gingerly, Clémence stepped in. The living room was clear, other than a stack of magazines on the coffee table. The blinds were down, half-open, letting in some light.

  “Anybody in here?” When Clémence turned toward the kitchen, she saw her. A blonde lying face down. A small pool of blood had formed around her face. It wasn’t as gruesome and bloody as Adine’s crime scene, but still disturbing nonetheless. She turned back to Perrie and Celine at the door. “I think it’s time to call the police.”

  “What did you touch?” Cyril demanded.

  “Nothing,” Clémence said. “I just stepped inside, looked around, and saw her there. She must’ve been killed in the last twenty-four hours, right?”

  Cyril didn’t confirm it. He only asked, “Did you touch her body?”

  “No. I’m not going to put my DNA all over a dead body. Are you nuts?”

  “What about your friends?”

  “They stayed outside.”

  Cyril narrowed his eyes at her, but he nodded. “Good.”