Dark Chocolate Murder (24 page)

Eager to reprise her starring Broadway role, and a glamorous big city lifestyle, Juliette had faded into oblivion.  In fact, they hadn’t heard a peep from her since she flew back on her broomstick to New York the day after Marc’s fever broke.  Belinda respected the importance of a woman’s career but could not justify a job taking precedence over a child.  But she couldn’t
complain; better for Juliette to be thousands of miles away than making their lives miserable as she surely would if she lived nearby.

“Should we go get
a cup of coffee?” Belinda suggested lightheartedly.

Pierre looked at her in surprise and frowned.  “No, no
coffee right now.  Let’s keep walking.  I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?  Oh, don’t keep me in suspense!” She
begged.

“Just keep walking, young lady.  I want us to go all the way
down to the sea and walk through the water.”

In a mesmerizing silence, Belinda walked alongside Pierre past a row of elaborate sandcastles and a group of children snickering as they poured buckets of grimy
water onto the creations.  The lovers removed their sandals and walked barefoot on sand that was cooling as the sun vanished for the night.  Belinda inhaled the fragrant air, clearly envisioning how a painter would consider this picturesque location as an artistic muse.

“If I had a paintbrush, I would paint this entire seascape.  Did you bring a camera?” Belinda inquired.

“Yes, I definitely did,” Pierre replied mysteriously.

When they had reached the water’s boundary and their feet caressed shallow waves, Pierre stopped and pulled Belinda against him.  He kissed her windswept hair and delicately
stroked the injured part of her neck.  Belinda bowed her head in wonderment, not wanting to speak or in any way denigrate the magical moment that was blooming between them.

To her surprise, Pierre took a few steps back and searched his pants pocket.  He retrieved a heart shaped box
and dropped to one knee on the sand.  Belinda’s eyes widened in astonishment as she realized what he was about to do.

“From the first time I saw you in your chocolate shop, I knew I would fall in love with you.  But I didn’t know how deeply I would fall. 
Je t’aime de tout mon coeur
.  Yes, I love you with all my heart.  You are more than the woman of my dreams.  You exceed every fantasy I’ve ever had about any woman.  I want you to be my wife and Marc’s mother.  Belinda, will you marry me?” Pierre looked at her expectantly as tears welled up in his eyes.

Teardrops fell down her cheeks as she whispered on a trembling breath, “Yes, I will marry you!”

Immediately, Pierre slipped the diamond ring onto her finger and stood to embrace her.  The diamond shimmered against the backdrop of the sea, but Belinda didn’t notice.  All her attention was focused on the man who had just become her fiancé, the man who had opened his heart and his entire world to invite her inside.  She kissed his lips as their tears blended together to create a salty unity. Getting engaged was definitely more emotional the second time around, or would it always have felt this way with Pierre?  Belinda wasn’t sure of anything except that she couldn’t wait to be called Mrs. Pierre Cédaire.

*****

“Let me tell you the stores
in Monaco where you should register!  There are so many ritzy shops around here, almost as many as in Manhattan!  I’ll go with you to make your bridal registry! And pick out china patterns! Are you free this afternoon?!” Crystal chirped rapid-fire over the phone.

It hadn’t even been twenty four hours since Pierre had proposed, and Belinda wasn’t ready to create a bridal registry.  She wasn’t even sure if she wanted one.  It seemed like such a presumptuous thing to do.  Shouldn’t guests be allowed to bring whatever gifts they pleased and could afford?

“Slow down, sis! A registry is the last thing on my mind.  First and foremost, I need to find a gown that fits!  Pierre and I have been going out to dinner practically every night since I got out of the hospital.  And he’s been making me these huge American breakfasts in the morning with buttered toast and stacks of pancakes.  I’ll be lucky if I can fit into a tent!” Belinda laughed in her signature self-deprecating way.

“I just saw you the other day, and you’re as foxy as ever.  Maybe just with a few more curves!” Crystal replied honestly.  “So when’s the wedding going to be?  Will you be a summer bride again?”

Belinda didn’t so much as flinch at the indirect reference to her first wedding.  A few months ago, she couldn’t stop making comparisons between her ex-husband and the new man in her life.  But, somewhere along the way, memories of Daniel had faded to black, and now Belinda could barely picture his face in her head.  The realization that her dismal marriage had finally become laughable made Belinda tingle with joy.  Yes, Pierre was Mr. Say Dare, and Daniel was Mr. Irrelevant!  Belinda giggled mindlessly as Crystal inquired quizzically, “Did I say something funny?”

“No! I’m just so happy right now.  Everything makes me laugh!” The white lie flowed from her lips as she contemplated when
the wedding should take place. The idea of being a summer bride in the south of France was an enticing one, but with the mild climate, a wedding in November could still feel summery.

“I think Pierre and I will plan
an autumn wedding.  We don’t have enough time to make arrangements for summer nuptials,” Belinda explained before revisiting Crystal’s well-meaning but meddlesome idea of a bridal registry.  “And I want this to be a small wedding.  Nothing ridiculous or fancy schmancy.  I want it to be simple and elegant.  And a bridal registry doesn’t really go with a simple wedding.  I want the guests to feel comfortable giving what they choose, not what I dictate.”

“Oh, Belinda,” Crystal sighed wistfully, “You’re forsaking your one chance to be a diva!  This is your day, and you can have it exactly the way you want.”

“But this
is
exactly the way I want!  Honestly, Crystal, I just care about being Pierre’s wife, not his bride, if you know what I mean.  It’s the marriage I’m excited about, not the wedding.”

A long, awkward silence was the only reply that came from
the phone line.  Belinda bit her lower lip, knowing she had struck a nerve.  Her sister wasn’t the envious sort, but after what had been revealed about Jean-Jacques, Belinda wouldn’t blame her for being a little green.

“Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Crystal replied sulkily.  “Before the wedding, I was excited about being married to Jean-Jacques too.  But the only thing waiting for me was boredom and frustration.”

“Are you insinuating that my marriage is going to be that way?”

“No, not at all.  I already told you what I think of Pierre as a man.  He’s not anything like my useless husband,” Crystal sighed shakily, and Belinda perceived that she was crying.

“We’ve discussed this before, and I didn’t want to bring it up again.  But maybe you should leave him.  You can’t spend the rest of your life living a lie
.  It’s not healthy for either of you,” Belinda advised as gently as she could.

“I know! I told you how t
hings have been getting worse again since your shop shut down.  When are you going to open another one so I can have a part-time job again?”

“I’m not s
ure that I will open another shop.  After Pierre and I are married, I may opt to work in his restaurant, or be a stay-at-home mom to Marc.  Everything is up in the air right now.”  Secretly, though, Belinda had been dreaming of opening a shop from the moment the malicious Detective Buchet had shuttered her dream chocolate boutique.  A giant chunk was missing from her life right now even in the midst of her wedding plans.  But Belinda resolved to shove the idea of opening a new business to the backburner.  Too many other details needed tending at the moment.

“I think you’d be selling yourself short to just stay at home.  I know you’ll have a
child to take care of, but staying home all the time is still not a fulfilling lifestyle, trust me,” Crystal said darkly as long pent-up tears cascaded down her cheeks.

“Okay, I’m coming over.  You’re upset, and I don’t want you to be alone.  I’m coming over right now.”

*****

Standing in the empty driveway, Belinda wondered how she was going to get to Crystal’s house.  Pierre had taken the car to work, and she was left without transportation.  Poking
around the garage, she found a woman’s bicycle with a ribboned basket attached to the handlebars.  Frowning, Belinda wondered if it had once belonged to Juliette.  Pushing that distasteful thought aside, she told herself the bicycle must be Nathalie’s and somehow it had made its way into Pierre’s garage.

Sliding from her sandals into a pair of socks and sneakers, Belinda mounted the bicycle and unsteadily rode it out of the garage.  She didn’t have a helmet or other proper gear, but she had a good idea of the route to take to reach her sister’s estate across the border in Monaco.  Careening onto the street, Belinda admired the lush, semi-tropical foliage as she passed through the
now familiar neighborhood.  From the vantage point of the bicycle, the colors seemed brighter, and she noticed little details that were easily overlooked in a speedy car ride.  Outdoor cats roamed the sidewalks, and a few of Marc’s friends from nursery school waved to her as she cycled by.

When she reached Crystal’s estate, she felt surprisingly invigorated, though her buttocks and thighs ached from the seat’s uncomfortable shape. 
Peeking around the backyard, Belinda found her sister in the garden, picking a bunch of pansies.

“How are you feeling?” Belinda inquired softly as she wrapped her arms around her sister.

Crystal’s eyes were puffy, and it was obvious that she had been crying even after they hung up.  “I’m glad you’re here,” Crystal whispered, accepting her sister’s hug.  “Listen, I want you to know that…I’ve decided to leave Jean-Jacques.  But not until after your wedding.  I don’t want to cause any upheaval now.  This is your time to shine.  But I will proceed with a divorce after you and Pierre are married.”

Belinda eyed her sister compassionately and urged, “Don’t think about me or anyone else!  Think of yourself and how unhappy you’ve been.  My wedding is still a couple of months away.  You don’t have to stay in this situation!”

But Crystal was resolute as she shook her head and insisted, “No, it’s the right thing to do.” Conjuring up a clumsy attempt at humor, she continued, “We’ll switch places.  You’ve been the single gal, and I’ve been the married lady.  Now we’ll just reverse roles.  Don’t try to change my mind.”

*****

Even in the daylight, the prison was a foreboding sight to behold. 
Set in the middle of an enormous cage of barbed wire, the structure was dilapidated and in dire need of a power washing.  An almost windowless building, the prison was constructed of five floors with the capacity to house thousands of inmates.  But there was only one inmate Pierre cared to see, and that was Philippe Debauche.

He strode into the building and passed through several security checkpoints before
reaching the visitor center. “
Bonjour
.  I’m here to see a prisoner named Philippe Debauche,” Pierre addressed a tall, fair-haired officer who gaped at him in disbelief.

“The chocolate murderer?  The gambling fool?” The officer sneered.  “You’ll be his first visitor.”

“Is that a fact?” Pierre asked sardonically, not at all surprised that no one had bothered to visit the now notorious criminal.

“
Oui
.  Do you want to visit his accomplice too?” The officer inquired, presenting Pierre with a clipboard and paper to sign in.

“You mean Buchet?  He’s here as well
?” Somehow, Pierre had expected the fallen detective to be housed at another location.

The officer smirked.  “Of course.  They’re neighbors.”

“Neighbors?”

“Yes, their cells are side by side.”

Pierre returned the policeman’s smirk, thinking how richly ironic it was for the two men to have to live side by side after the evil they had perpetrated together.

“Sure, bring him out as well.  The more the merrier,” Pierre chuckled.

The officer paged a security guard on his intercom and instructed him to inform the inmates that they had a visitor.  Addressing Pierre, he added, “They’re not obligated to come out here, though.  They could refuse your visit.  So we’ll see.”

Pierre nodded, fol
lowing the officer to an area that separated visitors and prisoners by an impenetrable wall of glass.  Telephones lined the rows of seats on both sides where the makeshift visits took place.  Pierre’s eyes widened as two undernourished, disheveled men in matching yellow jumpsuits plodded over to sit across from him.  Debauche immediately recognized Pierre and regarded him warily, fully expecting a taunting speech.  Buchet, on the other hand, had never seen Pierre face to face before and stared at the man quizzically.

Unshaven, greasy, and blank
-faced, the men were shadows of their former selves.  It was hard to picture David Buchet cocky and powerful in his detective’s trench coat, just as it seemed preposterous that Philippe Debauche had ever been able to inflict so much destruction.  Hesitantly, Pierre picked up the phone, suddenly unsure of what to say.  In his head, he had rehearsed a reproachful monologue replete with insults and jeers.  But now, in the presence of these pathetic prisoners, it seemed petty, even cruel, to execute such a plan.