Harper Lin - Patisserie 07 - Madeleine Murder (5 page)

“So what do you think?” Sophie asked when they sat down in the Blue Bar of the Athena Hotel. 

Clémence asked Caroline and Marie to help her dig up all the purchases and transaction information on their cash register before the store opened.

Clémence was craving a cocktail for some reason. Maybe it was all the talk about Nicole Blake’s drinking problem. She and Sophie both ordered a Blue Haze, the Blue Bar’s signature drink.

“I don’t know,” Clémence said. “Rachel thinks Nicole hadn’t been drinking, but it would be plausible that Nicole would turn to the bottle if she was that upset about losing a plum role. But we still don’t know who she had been meeting. And did this person kill her?” 

“Contrary to what Chris said, I agree with you that there is potential that someone on our set would kill Nicole,” Sophie said. “It’s a competitive industry. Do you know how many other French actresses and models wanted my little cameo in this film? When I got it, some of these girls wouldn’t talk to me at parties. Imagine that on a bigger scale, when you’re one of the biggest stars in the world.” 

“That’s true,” Clémence agreed. “What’s going on with Chris’s wife? Is she always that rude?”

“I don’t know what her problem is. I met her on set once when I was shooting a scene with Sarah Briar. Between takes, she came on set, and Chris introduced her to everyone. She seemed pleasant enough with most people, but when Chris introduced her to Sarah, Cynthia looked like she wanted to kill her. Same with me.” 

“So, what, she hates actresses?” 

“I suppose she’s not too happy about her husband working with attractive women all day long. She used to be a beauty back in the day, and she did some modeling, although she was never tall enough to gain supermodel status.” 

The bartender gave them their cocktails, and they both took a sip. 

“I’ll add Cynthia to the suspect list,” Clémence said. “What does she do for a living now?” 

“Not much,” Sophie said. “She’s a housewife, but she came from money. Her family owns Harper Studios. She met Chris because he was working for the studio.”

“Wow, her family owns Harper Studios? Rich would be an understatement then.” 

“She was given a few opportunities to act when she was younger,” Sophie said, “but she was a horrible actress. Had no charisma on screen. I’ve seen clips of one of the films on YouTube, and she was a laughingstock for a while. She even quit modeling because she was an embarrassment to the Harper name.” 

“Hmm. So she failed as a movie star, and now she’s resentful of other young starlets. There’s definitely some motive here. But it does sound like quite a few people had hated Nicole.” 

“Did Rachel ever respond to you?” 

“I’ve been so distracted that I forgot I was supposed to meet her.” Clémence took out her phone from her purse and turned on the screen. “No. She didn’t reply at all.” 

She tried calling her again, but it only went to voicemail.

“You know what?” Sophie said. “I can call Sarah. I’m friends with her. They’re not shooting scenes with the actors right now anyway.”

She took out her phone and made the call. “Hey, Sarah?” After some small talk, she asked where Rachel was. “Really?…I’m sure that’s not it, Sarah…well let me know if you see her.” 

When Sophie hung up, she had a strange look on her face.  

“So where is Rachel?” Clémence asked.

“It’s really odd. Rachel was supposed to meet Sarah this morning to go over some lines then help Sarah run some errands, but she never showed up. Sarah checked with the crew, and nobody knows where she is. Now Sarah thinks that Rachel’s unhappy about being her assistant because she was so loyal to Nicole. She’s pretty hurt because she thinks this is Rachel’s way of saying she didn’t want to work for her.” 

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Clémence said, “considering that Rachel stood me up.” 

“I’ve met Rachel a few times, but she doesn’t seem like the type to stand people up. She’s very organized and diligent, definitely not the type to rebel, even if she was secretly unhappy about the Sarah situation.” 

“What if she’s still in her hotel room?” Clémence said slowly. “Where else could she possibly be?” 

“Why would she be there?” Sophie asked.

“I don’t know, but I just think we should check just in case.” 

“Maybe she’s still asleep. Or do you think she had an accident?” 

“Come on, let’s go talk to the concierge.” Clémence got up from her stool.

They explained the situation to a young man behind the front desk with a name tag that said “Julien.” At the sight of Sophie, his eyes widened. Since Sophie was more or less famous, he must’ve recognized her or found her to be beautiful, which she was.

“Sorry,” Julien said bashfully. “I’m not allowed to let anyone in anyone else’s suite.” 

“Please,” Sophie pleaded. Her sweet face made Julien go soft. “It’s a matter of life and death. My friend is missing, and she could be in trouble. Surely you’d want to help if she’s in danger, wouldn’t you? We just want to check her room to see if she’s in there. We don’t even have to go in. You can check for us.” 

“Well…” Julien looked between Sophie and Clémence’s hopeful faces. He loosened up, seeming to make up his mind. “I do have access to the room. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to quickly check.” 

“Thank you,” Sophie breathed. “You’re doing the right thing.”

With the lovely lady’s encouragement, Julien’s chest puffed out like a cock’s. He went into the back room and then emerged with a swipe card. 

The three of them took the elevator up to the third floor. Before door 305, Julien knocked.

“
Madame?
” he called. “Anybody there?” As expected, there was no answer. After knocking some more and receiving silence as a response, Julien swiped the card and pushed the door open. 

He took a few steps inside. Then he let out a huge gasp, staggering back out into the hall.

“What is it?” Clémence asked.

Julien pointed. His lips shook, and he was unable to speak. 

Clémence braced herself and walked in. She saw the source of his distress: Rachel’s body was swinging from a chandelier. A brown leather belt was looped around her neck, and the skin of her face and body had turned gray-blue.

“
Mon dieu!
” Sophie said behind Clémence. “Call the police!” 

“Are you okay,
chérie
?” Arthur asked when he returned home late from work. 

He put his laptop bag on a side table in the living room and entered the salon, where Clémence was sitting on the couch, clutching a glass of red wine and staring into space. In front of her on the glass coffee table was her notebook full of her scribbled writing. She was so deep in her thoughts that it took a while for her to register Arthur’s presence.

“What?” she asked after a long delay.

He glanced at the half-empty bottle of wine next to the notebook on the table and raised his eyebrows in concern.

“Did something happen today?” 

Clémence blinked back. His warm brown eyes anchored her back to reality. “It was awful. Rachel, the girl I told you about? Nicole Blake’s assistant? She’s dead.” 

His jaw dropped. “What? Didn’t you just meet her yesterday?” 

She slowly nodded. “I was supposed to meet her again today. She hanged herself. We found her body in her hotel room.”  

She relayed the day’s events, how Rachel had been M.I.A. until they convinced a hotel clerk to check her room, and how her body had been swinging from a chandelier.

“That must’ve been one sturdy chandelier,” Arthur remarked.

Clémence looked up at their own crystal chandelier dangling over their heads in the salon. Everything was more fragile in Haussmanian buildings, and she was sure it wouldn’t have been able to withstand the weight if anyone tried to hang themselves on her chandelier.

“But it’s the Athena Hotel,” Clémence said. “They completely renovated five years ago, gutted the place and put in modern appliances, new piping, and walls that were thick enough that you wouldn’t hear the other guests. That chandelier was probably screwed in with industrial strength.” 

“True. So do you think Rachel committed suicide?” 

“Well, the police are ruling it as a suicide. Her smartphone was on the coffee table, and she’d opened a notepad app and typed in, ‘I can’t go on anymore.’” 

“So suicide is likely, then?” he asked.

Clémence sighed. “The wallpaper on her phone was set to a photo of Nicole Blake. When Rachel and I exchanged numbers yesterday, her wallpaper was definitely different. It was of cartoon frogs. I remember because I had thought it was weird and cute that she’d use that wallpaper. I think someone killed Rachel and tried to pass off her death as a suicide. The killer might’ve changed her phone’s wallpaper to make it look as if Rachel was obsessed with Nicole, and wrote the message in Rachel’s phone to make it sound like a suicide note. I don’t know if this death was premeditated or not, but it’s connected to Nicole’s death.” 

“Hmm.” Arthur took the glass from Clémence’s firm clutch. She was gripping it so hard that it looked like the glass might break. He took a sip then asked, “Were there any witnesses at the time of her death? Perhaps hotel maids or other guests who might’ve heard something?”

“No. There was a Do Not Disturb sign on her door, so a maid probably hadn’t been in since yesterday. I haven’t heard from Rachel all morning. She was probably dead since last night. They’re doing an autopsy right now, so we’ll find out soon.” 

Arthur put his arm around Clémence’s shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to see another dead body. Are you all right?” 

“It’s just revolting. My instincts tell me that Nicole was killed. Rachel was probably sniffing around, getting too close to the truth. Somebody staying in that hotel killed her, somebody on that film set, I’m sure of it.”

Clémence rubbed her temples. A headache was forming. All these suspects and clues were clogging her head, and chaos reigned in her brain. Arthur knew her well enough to reach for her notebook and pen and pass them to her.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” he said. “Who’s a suspect? Who’s benefiting from Nicole’s death?”

Clémence flipped to a fresh page. It reassured her to know that she’d solved cases before. She could do it again. 

“Sarah Briar,” she said. “I haven’t met her yet, but she was losing her star power and sliding into supporting roles in the past couple of years. Sarah’s supposedly nice, well, nicer than Nicole, but is it a coincidence that she’s getting a meatier role in the film now that Nicole’s gone? Plus, she’ll get all the magazine covers to promote the film, and it might just lift her status back up to A-list.”

“Where was she during Nicole and Rachel’s deaths?” Arthur asked.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ve asked Sophie to help me get the film’s shooting schedule. Sophie’s sort of friends with Sarah, so she can also help me get a meeting with her. Sophie doesn’t think it’s Sarah, but she might be biased because of their new friendship.” 

“Do you really think that Sarah Briar, a petite blonde, can kill another human being so easily?” 

“I did some research on her,” Clémence said. “She did an action film five years ago, so she had training. She learned all sorts of martial arts, so I wouldn’t underestimate her. It’s possible, especially if she surprised Rachel or Nicole. Nicole was probably killed during the night, so what if she surprised her under some bridge along the Seine? And with Rachel, what if she had an extra key somehow and snuck into her room? The only thing that doesn’t make sense is that she probably wasn’t the person Nicole was secretly meeting.” 

“It is possible that Nicole just had a secret boyfriend or something,” Arthur said.

“Yeah. And Sarah could’ve followed her one night. Who knows?”

“Okay. So who else do you suspect?”

Clémence was starting to get in the zone now that Arthur was here to keep her in line.

“Zach Brant. He didn’t get along with Nicole on set for some reason. Was it a clashing of two big egos, or sexual tension? I haven’t met him either, but their disdain for each other seems to be common knowledge among the crew. Sarah’s going to be shooting all day tomorrow, and Zach’s getting the day off, so Sophie’s arranged it so I can go to the hotel and talk to Zach at the bar. My plan is to get him to talk, about anything at all. Something’s gotta slip.” 

“So those are your two main suspects? Anyone else?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Clémence brought up the director’s wife, and told him about their encounter with her in Chris’s suite. “Cynthia Collins, née Harper. She falls into the profile of the jealous wife. With all the beauty, money, and privilege in the world, she’d failed as an actress, and now she’s a housewife. Her kids seem to like her, or at least respect her, but she seemed to be bored with her life, and even her own husband was afraid of her. You should’ve seen the way she looked at Sophie and me. If she could hate us, imagine how much she would’ve hated someone like Nicole, who basically grew up in a trailer park. Plus, her husband probably gushed about Nicole and her talent. She must’ve been green with envy.”

“Could she have been cold-blooded enough to kill a young woman and toss her body into the river?” Arthur asked. “Then strangle another young woman to death? It’s not as if she had any martial arts training either.” 

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Clémence said. “She was about 5’8”, and I’m sure running around a couple of young kids would require strength. Her look alone could kill.” 

Clémence wrote all her thoughts down. Then she reached into her black Alexander Wang purse, which was lying on the floor next to her couch, and pulled out Nicole’s agenda. She flipped to the coded entries.

“I really need to crack the code and figure out who she was meeting. Who—or what—is OVUJOV? If I can crack one, I’ll crack the others.” 

Arthur took a look through the agenda. “Why don’t you try to figure out an easy one? Let’s see, on the day before her death, there’s nothing in her agenda except for her call time on set, and this meeting with OVUJOV. That doesn’t help, but what if you try to decode one on a date when she had more appointments? Like this one, August fifteenth. She obviously had the day off. And isn’t ILILIL one of the codes you were trying to crack?” 

Clémence looked at her schedule. They listed stores around Rue Saint-Honoré. “Look, she went to Chateau du Chocolat. I doubt Sophie went with her. She says they didn’t know each other at all. ILILIL has to be code for something, because I tried to look it up online and found nothing.”

“What if it’s a person?” Arthur said.

“It’s a possibility. Maybe the decoded name would make more sense. But maybe you’re on to something, because all these stores are around the Rue Saint-Honoré area. If ILILIL is a place, it could be around.”

“It doesn’t hurt to look around and keep your eyes peeled.” 

“You know what? After I speak to Zach Brant, I’ll walk around Rue Saint-Honoré and see if there’s anything that could give me a clue.” 

“She didn’t do much that day, it seems, except shop in this area,” Arthur added.

Miffy came in, tail wagging and with what looked like a smile on her face. She jumped up onto the couch and buried her face into Clémence’s lap.

Clémence yawned. “Even Miffy’s tired.”

Arthur stood up. “Come on. You should rest early. I know you’ll have a big day ahead of you.”