Dark Chocolate Murder (25 page)

“These are the consequences for your actions,” Pierre spoke as plainly into the receiver as though he were stating a scientific fact like
‘the earth is round.’

The prisoners simultaneously averted their eyes to beige paint chipping off the walls.  Without another word or glance, Pierre rose to his feet and exited the prison.

*****

That evening, Belinda and Pierre returned home at the same time.  Still overjoyed by the sight of his fiancée, vital and lustrous, Pierre rushed to escort her inside the house.  In the kitchen, Pierre opened the cabinet to select two slender white wine glasses as Belinda chose a bottle from the refrigerator.

“Should I make us
some seafood tonight?  I don’t feel up to going out to dinner.”

“What’s wrong, babe?  Did you have a rough day?” Belinda uncorked the bottle of Pinot Gris as Pierre shrugged nonchalantly.

“Nothing I really want to talk about.  Just a stressful day at the restaurant.” The second half of what he communicated was a lie, but the first part was the truth.  He did not want to discuss his visit to the prison and risk upsetting Belinda.  The visit had not been satisfying like he had anticipated, but it had still provided a measure of closure.  The dual perpetrators were suffering more than Pierre had imagined---and more than he would wish on anyone.

“Okay, that’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it,” Belinda murmured distractedly.

Pierre raised his eyebrows with concern.  “What about you?  How was your day?”

“Oh, not so good,” she sighed.  “I biked over to Crystal’s house today, and she told me that she’s going to seek a divorce from Jean-Jacques.
”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  They seem like such a nice couple.”

“That’s how it would seem to an outside observer, but they have a lot of problems.  I can’t get into it though because Crystal confided in me and…”

Pierre held up his hand.  “You don’t have to explain.  It’s none of my business why they’re getting a divorce.  I’m just sorry it’s upsetting you,” he consoled
, walking over to his fiancée and squeezing her hand before asking incredulously, “Did you just say you biked to her house?”

“
Well that was a delayed reaction!  But, yes! I found an old bike in the garage and rode it there,” Belinda giggled before sobering and daring to ask, “By the way, whose bike is it?”

“Well, it’s yours now!” Pierre chuckled, taking a sip of wine.  “Actually, it’s Nathalie’s bike.  She left it here
last summer so she can go on rides with Marc and her sons when she comes over.”

Belinda’s face glowed with pleasure.  She couldn’t believe that the crazy story she had appeased herself with was actually true! It wasn’t Juliette’s bike at all, and why would it be?  Juliette and Pierre had lived tog
ether in New York City, not at his house in France.  Belinda shook her head, musing how easily her jealousy was aroused when it came to Pierre Cédaire.

“So you rode Nathalie’s bike all the way into Monaco?” He probed.

“You seem surprised! I know I’m not the most athletic woman, but you never know, now that I’ll be living in France, I might compete in the
Tour de France
!”

Pierre laughed heartily and rejoined, “Should I get dinner started now?”

“No, I can cook too, you know!”

“By all means, you can be the chef tonight!
” He happily conceded.

“Good!  I’ll stir fry some shrimp and vegetables.  Keep it light.”

“Sounds delicious. While you’re whipping up dinner, I’ll be in the living room watching TV.  France is playing versus Germany tonight.”

“Soccer?” Belinda guessed.

“Of course!”

“I’m going to have to
convert you to a baseball fan one of these days,” she teased, pouring oil into a cast iron wok.

“You can try, but I’m devoted to soccer.  I’m a one-woman man
and
a one-sport man, sweetheart,” Pierre replied stubbornly before disappearing into the living room.

The banter between them was
so easy and comfortable.  It already felt like they were married, and Belinda momentarily questioned the necessity of a wedding.  Were it not for Marc and his need for a mother, she would be perfectly content to live with Pierre without making any changes to their legal status.  Though Belinda would be hard pressed to admit it, Crystal’s sour words about marriage had shaken her up a bit.

Leaving the meal to cook on the stove for a few minutes, Belinda went upstairs to open her laptop and write to Lenore.  This time, she resolved n
ot to ask her friend for a poem---or to ask her for anything.  Instead, she would share her happy news and invite her to the wedding.  She wouldn’t let Crystal’s pending divorce steal away any of the joy of marrying Pierre.

Hi Lenore, It’s your Miss Vagabond…who’s about to settle down and become Mrs. Pierre C
édaire.  Yes, Pierre proposed to me!  And, sweetheart, if you only knew what we’ve been through to get to this point.  I promise to fill you in on all the details in person!  Anyway, we’re having the wedding sometime in the autumn.  And of course, you are cordially invited.  You’ll be getting the formal invitation in the mail, but I wanted to email you now so you can go buy yourself a party dress!  It’s going to be a small ceremony and reception, just our close friends and family.  I hope you can make it!

Giddily, Belinda sent the email to Lenore, reflecting how this was the first truly carefree message she had shared with her friend since arriving in Europe.

Chapter Nineteen

After dinner, Pierre and Belinda took a walk to watch the sunset.  Marc walked in between them, as he had become accustomed to doing, squeezing their hands tightly with his perpetually wet fingers.  As Marc chattered happily about the fireflies in the air and the croaking of frogs from a nearby pond, Belinda listened to the boy with gratitude.  The four year old was always buoyant, always voracious for life, and his attitude was contagious.  The stress of wedding plans---and of Crystal’s imminent divorce---drifted far away on the breezy summer night.

Suddenly, Marc broke free of his parents and bolted forward into a dark meadow.  In the
moon glow, the grass glistened and flowers appeared as neon lights.  “Papa, do you think there are frogs in this meadow?  I want one for a pet!” Marc squealed as he pranced through the dewy grass.

“Oh, I don’t know Marc.  Do you really want a slimy frog?” Pierre rolled his eyes humorously and turned to his fianc
ée.

“They’re not slimy! They’re green and cute!” Marc asserted, combing the field for the elusive reptile.

“The frogs wouldn’t be in the field, Marc.  They would be in the pond that you can see just up ahead,” Belinda directed, pointing a finger as Marc took off.

“Why did you tell him that?  Do you really want to share our home with a frog?” Pierre asked
with a groan.

“No! But there’s no harm in him playing with them here.  Maybe we could convince him to want a dog instead!” Belinda said laughingly.

“We’re not home enough to take care of
any
pets!” Pierre insisted.

Belinda simply smiled, keeping an eye on Marc as he sifted through the pond water with a stick.  As
a cascade of diamond-like stars shone over them and the fragrance from the flowers cooled the air, a thought suddenly dawned on her.

“Pierre, what do you think of this meadow?”

“Huh? Well, I’ve seen it a million times.  It’s just a few blocks from our house.”

“I know, but somehow I never noticed it before.  It must look lovely in the daylight.  So open and free.” Belinda inhaled the violet-tinged air.

“It is a lovely place, I guess,” Pierre replied, still unimpressed.

“I think we should have our wedding here!”

“Here? In this field?” He chuckled in disbelief.  “Don’t you want to have the wedding some place a little more sophisticated, like a country manor or at least a reception hall?”

“No!” She replied adamantly.  “I was telling my sister this afternoon how much I want a small, simple wedding.  And we couldn’t get a simpler venue than this!”

“I’d have to agree with you there,” Pierre drawled sarcastically.

Belinda was momentarily crestfallen.  He seemed to think her idea was stupid.  Was it possible that she was marrying a man who was materialistic and high maintenance?  For the first time since their engagement, she reflected how they had only met in May. 
Such a sliver of time gone by and here they were planning a whirlwind wedding whose vision they did not appear to share.

“You don’t like my idea,” Belinda said sullenly.

“That’s not true.  I’m just surprised.  I want to give you the best.  I want people to be impressed by our wedding and see how much I love you.”

“A fancy wedding doesn’t tell people anything about the level of love between a couple.  It just gives a clue to how much their bank accounts are worth! You need to let that male pride go and remember what the wedding is really about: us.  Not others.  Not impressing anyone,” Belinda boldly conveyed her perspective.

Pierre thoughtfully placed a hand on his chin.  “With an inexpensive wedding, I suppose we could spend more money on a honeymoon.  We could go somewhere spectacular, like Australia.”

Belinda gasped.  “Australia! I would love that!  Yes, Pierre, let’s do it.  Let’s get married in this meadow and have a first class honeymoon in Australia!”

Pierre pulled her into his arms and bent down for a kiss.  As she waited expectantly with parted lips, he whispered meaningfully, “Remember the wildflowers I brought you on our first date?”

“Yes, of course!”

“I just remembered, this is the meadow where I picked them,” he breathed, gazing into her warm hazel eyes that lit up like the moon.

“It was serendipity.  Pure serendipity,” Belinda whispered as Pierre drew her into a kiss that tasted as sweet as wine and wildflowers.

*****

When Belinda performed her daily ritual of checking emails the next morning, she was taken aback to find that Lenore had not replied to her message.  Perhaps she had taken her friend for granted and used Dr. Poet as a sort of transatlantic therapist.  As she was about to write an apologetic email to Lenore, her cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Congratulations, girl!  I had to call you!  This is too important to talk about through email!” Lenore’s strong, smiling voice reached across the ocean.

Sighing with relief to he
ar from her friend, Belinda said, “Thank you so much! It’s so good to hear your voice.  It looks like the wedding will be in early November.  Please tell me you’ll be able to make it!”

“Oh, I will be there, you better believe that!
I wouldn’t miss it!” Lenore enthused as Belinda clapped her hands excitedly.

“Fantastic! I mean
fantastique
!  You should learn a little French before you come here!”

“I’ll try! This is the best news, Belinda, it really is.”

Belinda paused before presenting her friend with an important request.  “Lenore, I have a question to ask you, and I hope you’ll say yes.  I want you to do something very special at my wedding.  And I don’t mean squeeze into a hideous pink bridesmaid gown!  There won’t be any of that hoopla at my wedding. No groomsmen, no bridesmaids.  And we’re saying our vows in a meadow!”

“That sounds like my kind of wedding!  But you know I would have worn
a frilly pink tutu if that’s what you wanted!” Lenore laughed.

“I have no doubt that you would, my friend!  But why would I waste a good poet and sideline her when she should be front and center?” Belinda asked mysteriously.

“What are you talking about?” Lenore asked, confused.

“I want you to read a poem at our wedding.  Any of your poems.  It’s your choice.  I know you’ll pick
a beautiful one for Pierre and me.”

Tears dotted Lenore’s eyelids and
her heart was humbled.  “Belinda, I’m so honored.  I don’t know what to say.  Of course, I’ll read a poem at your wedding!  I actually wrote one just recently about love the second time around.  I think it would be perfect for you two.”

*****

November 2
nd

Belinda & Pierre’s Wedding

The autumn day was pleasantly free of humidity and filled with sunshine.  Belinda’s cream colored dress stood out against the backdrop of vivid green shrubs and plum wildflowers.  In a curve enhancing gown with an empire waist, Belinda floated across the meadow like Venus incarnate.  Holding a bouquet of vibrant flowers, Belinda exchanged vows with Pierre in both English and French.  After the vows were recited, the guests proceeded to Pierre and Belinda’s garden where the reception launched with a live guitarist and soul singer.  Hand in hand, the newlyweds made their entrance to the lively sound of applause and cheers mingled with the music.  The spicy scents of French Creole dishes filled the entire neighborhood as the guests sipped Dom Perignon.