Murder in the Latin Quarter (12 page)

T
he next morning
, Mila was up early so Maggie was too. Delphine was still asleep so Maggie wrote her a quick note to say she'd be back shortly. It was a good morning to sit outside with a coffee. As Maggie was arranging Mila in her back carrier, the front door opened. Amelie stopped dramatically when she saw Maggie and the baby. Maggie considered asking Amelie where she thought she was taking Delphine yesterday but as usual the woman didn't make conversation easy. Maggie decided it wasn't important. No harm was done.

“
Bonjour
, Amelie,” Maggie said cheerfully, not expecting an answer. “Madame Normand is still asleep.”

Amelie grunted and pushed past Maggie to enter the kitchen.

“Yep,” Maggie said under her breath as she slipped out the front door. “You have a good day, too.”

What is with that woman? Did she just hate me on sight?

The elevator appeared to be working this morning but Maggie decided not to chance it and took her time descending the five floors to the lobby below. It wasn't raining for a change so she set out at a quick pace down the rue du Bac toward the boulevard Saint-Germain. There was a good bakery around the corner from Delphine's but Maggie was in the mood for a sit-down coffee. Her phone vibrated and she glanced at the screen.

It was Laurent.

<
Call me when you have a moment
.>

Maggie quickly typed in <
K
> and slid the phone back into her jacket pocket. It occurred to her that Laurent's urgent messages often sounded like no big deal. She pulled the phone out again, wondering if she should call him.

Another text came through. <
Jemmy is fine
.>

She breathed a sigh of relief and felt a wave of gratitude because Laurent knew her so well.

She tugged on the baby's foot. “Okay, Mila. Will it be
pain chocolat
again this morning or shall we branch out with a
crème pâtissière
?”

An hour later, Maggie sat at a café with Mila on her lap, an espresso in front of her and her iPad on the table. For being in such a touristy area, the café was light on patrons and for that Maggie was glad. It was slightly scuzzier than some of the other cafés on the famous street and the waiters seemed a tad more surly too. Maggie considered it a fair trade for a quiet morning.

She typed in the name
Bauer
in her iPad's search engine window and watched as hundreds of names showed up. She refined the search by typing in
WWII
and also
Gestapo
but only managed to reduce the number by a hundred or so.

“It can't be that complicated,” Maggie muttered, tapping a spoon against her demitasse cup.

She typed in:
German officer Bauer during Paris occupation 1944
.

It was a long shot…

A man's name showed up in a chat room talking about the war and his father's involvement in it. Highlighted was a comment he made about his father's stories during the war in Paris with a Helmut Bauer.

Maggie felt her excitement grow. Now if she could just confirm with Delphine that Camille's guy's first name had been Helmut, she might really have something!

She picked up her phone and called Delphine's home number.

“
Oui
?” a woman barked into the receiver.

Great. Amelie.

“
Allo
, Amelie,” Maggie said, hoping the hag didn't hang up on her. “Is my aunt available?”

A loud snorting broke onto the line followed by the sound of the phone dropping as Amelie went to fetch Delphine.

Milo kicked the table with her foot and reached for Maggie's spoon. To keep her quiet, Maggie handed it over. She looked on her tablet for the contact information for the person who had posted. His name was Rolf Schmidt. It looked like he'd made the comment two years ago.

“
Oui
, Maggie?” Delphine said into the receiver.

“Hey, Delphine. I hope I didn't drag you away from your breakfast.”

“
Non, non
. Where are you?”

“Just running a few errands. Listen, I was wondering if you could tell me Herr Bauer's first name?”

Delphine sucked in a loud gasp and for a moment Maggie was afraid she was having a spell.

“Delphine? You okay?”

“Helmut,” Delphine said softly as if attempting to hide the word from anyone who might be listening. “He was called Helmut.”

Bingo!
Maggie made a silent fist pump in the air.

“Okay, great. Listen, I'll bring home some sandwiches for lunch, okay? Is there anything else you need?”

“
Non
, Maggie.
Merci
.”

Maggie was sorry if she'd upset Delphine but she was sure it was for a good cause.
If Maggie could find Camille's daughter and help ease Delphine's mind about what happened to her, it would all be worth it.

She turned back to her iPad.

Schmidt had to be between fifty and seventy years old. That's old to be playing on the Internet, Maggie thought. With no comments in two years, maybe he died?

She clicked on his name and was sent to an active email address.

She typed: “
Dear Herr Schmidt, I hope you can help me. I am looking for information on a Helmut Bauer who was stationed in Paris during the German occupation. I understand your father knew him? Any information you can give me about Herr Bauer—what happened to him, or any descendants he might have—would be invaluable to me. Yours Sincerely, Margaret Dernier
.”

She hit
Send
and leaned back with satisfaction.

“Step One, baby girl,” she said to Mila.

Maggie was proud of the fact that she'd confronted Delphine head on about the locked room last night instead of trying to break into it on her own—the very thought of which still gave her tremors of guilt. As soon as she talked Delphine into giving her the green light to look inside she just might uncover a lead to help ease Delphine's mind over the tragedy that had haunted her for over seventy years.

Another avenue of investigation that she had in her back pocket was checking out the village where Camille came from, an hour outside Paris. Delphine said Camille's family had refused to have anything to do with Camille's child but there might be someone left alive there who knew where she'd gone.

Maggie's phone rang and she checked the screen but didn't recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Madame Dernier? It is Victor Rousseau. Delphine's friend?”

“Oh, yes, Monsieur Rousseau,” Maggie said. “Of course I remember you.”

“I got your number from Delphine. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all. I'm glad you called. I didn't get a chance to talk with you much at the party.”

“I was thinking the same thing. This is my usual luncheon time with Delphine but she doesn't feel up to it today. Would you care to meet me for lunch?”

Maggie laughed. “Sure, I'd love to. If you don't mind dealing with a six month old over the
foie gras
.”

“
Pas de problème
,” he said with a deep throated laugh. “I love babies!”

They arranged to meet at a small restaurant just a few blocks away. Meanwhile, Maggie waved to the waiter and ordered another coffee and a sweet roll for Mila. The waiter wasn't pleasant but he wasn't overtly rude either.

Feeling satisfied with her morning's work and delighted for the opportunity to grill Victor about Delphine, Maggie put in a call to Laurent.

“Where are you?” he asked when he picked up.

“Oh, you know,” Maggie said. “At police headquarters in the missing children's department.”

“Very
droll, chérie
. Your mother has called me.”

“Again? I got that sorted out with her.”

“She doesn't feel that you have. I booked your flights home.”

“Damn it, Laurent!” Maggie said and then glanced at Mila who looked at her with a worried look. “I
told
her I'd come home. What's the hurry?”

“No, hurry,” Laurent said calmly. “It's in two weeks.”

“I can't leave in two weeks!”

“Why not?”

“I…you…” Maggie sputtered. “You know I don't like people arranging my life for me!”

“This is a new dislike of yours that I was not aware of.”

“Stop it, Laurent. Stop sounding like you're in control of this. I'll go in my own time.”

“
Non
. Your mother needs you home. Two weeks.”

“Unbelievable!”

“Do you want to speak to your young man? He is right here. Jemmy?”

Maggie took in a long breath and tried to focus on how energized she'd been before Laurent and her mother collaborated to spoil her day.

“
Maman
?”

“Hey, baby boy,” Maggie said, feeling the vexation drain from her.

That Laurent was a sly one
, she thought as the tenseness in her shoulders softened at the sound of her son's voice.

Delphine definitely wasn't wrong about
that
.

D
elphine listened
to the phone ring with mounting annoyance.

Was that useless woman not even going to answer the phone?

She left her dressing table in her bedroom. “Amelie? Are you here?”

Delphine stepped into the living room and saw the note. <
Gone to boulangerie
.>

Her posture rigid with annoyance, Delphine snatched up the still ringing phone.

“
Allo
?” she said, her voice laced with dread and apprehension.

Before the caller even spoke, Delphine could hear the background rumble of traffic mixed with cars honking. Was he calling from somewhere in the city? Somewhere close?

“Are you ready, Madame?” the disembodied voice barked out, its mechanical delivery adding a disembodied and alien layer to the words. “Or do you think I am not serious?”

“I don't have anything. I don't know anything.”

“Liar! Your secret from the war! If you think I will let it die with you, you are mad!”

“Please don't hurt my family. I will do anything you—”

“No, you are lying again. Always you are lying. But this time, no. This time, you will suffer the consequences. Because of your lies, Madame, tonight a loved one will die.”

D
elphine staggered
to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She steadied herself by the sink as she drank.

Who could they mean?

An image of Victor and Noel came to mind, replaced quickly by an image of Mila and then Maggie. Delphine sucked in a sharp breath of air.

They wouldn't really hurt them. It's just threats. Nasty, cowardly threats
.

She poured a second glass of water and drank deeply again. Within moments she felt a little stronger. She looked at the phone in the living room as she recalled the terrible distorted voice.

Who could it be? Was it someone she knew?

A shiver of horror trembled through her whole body.

They know about the secret. Even if they don't know what it is. Somehow, whoever they are, they know.

How can I give them what they want as long as there is a Dernier alive to carry the name? How can I do that to my precious Mila or her brother?

Her eyes went to the storage room and a wave of hopelessness crashed over her.

T
he brasserie
where Maggie was to meet Victor was down a quaint little alleyway not far from the famous St-Michel fountain. She still wasn't sure bringing Mila to a restaurant was the best idea but it beat backtracking to Delphine's apartment. Victor was waiting out front of
La Cuillère d'Or
, the tiniest restaurant Maggie had ever seen. Its front door was so narrow she was sure she'd have to enter sideways to get in. There were two tables outside but all the patrons seemed to be opting for indoor dining.

“
Bonjour,
Madame Dernier!” Victor said. They shook hands and he immediately exclaimed over the baby.

“Please call me Maggie,” Maggie said. “I'm so glad you rang. Delphine talks about you all the time. I'm glad to get to know you better.”

“And me, you, Maggie,” he said, his eyes crinkling into a smile that nearly made them disappear into his face of wrinkles. “Come, come! Do you know
pot au feu
?”

He ushered her into the restaurant which was a narrow room with only five small wooden tables on each side wall. A woman in an apron and shoulder length dark hair, menus in hand, stepped up to meet them.

“
Deux
?” she asked and then before they could answer indicated that they should follow her to the back of the room.

Maggie sat across from Victor at a corner table jammed up against the back wall. She pulled Mila out of the carrier and set her beside her. Mila promptly grabbed a spoon and began banging it on the table.

“My husband makes
pot au feu
,” Maggie said, taking the spoon from Mila and digging out a cloth toy for her instead.

“Ahhh, the nephew,” Victor said, nodding. “So he cooks?”

“Does he ever. In fact, back in the States he was the chef for a country club in Atlanta.”

The waitress took the open bottle of red wine on the table and poured Victor and Maggie each a glass. Victor handed the waitress the menus and spoke rapidly to her in French.

“May I hold her?” He nodded toward Mila and Maggie gratefully handed the baby over. Mila snuggled against Victor's tweed vest and yawned.

“Wow. You've got the touch,” Maggie said. “If you can get her to fall asleep so we can eat, I'll have to adopt you.”

“I love the little ones,” Victor said fondly. “But, alas.”

“No grandkiddies of your own?”

“It's generally preferred that one create actual children first,” he said with a smile, “before moving on to grandchildren.”

“Wow. We have the same rule in America.”

Watching Victor's peaceful enjoyment of the baby made Maggie think there might be a place for a surrogate grandpa in their lives. Especially if Victor and Delphine were a couple as they seemed to be.

“How long have you known Delphine?” she asked.

“Oh, many years. She is my one, you see,” Victor said, his eyes misting.

“Your one?”

“My purpose. My one.”

“I think I see. Has she always been so…”

“Sad?”

“I guess I was going to say tortured.”

“You are very observant, Maggie.
Oui
. As long as I am knowing her.”

“Because of the war?”

“Partly.” He sipped his wine and smiled at Mila as she fell asleep in his arms. He glanced at Maggie. “Try the wine. It is very good.”

Maggie sipped her wine and felt a relaxing wave of peace filter through her. She unbunched her shoulders and allowed herself the pleasure of being off the leash with Mila. Since she'd been away from Grace's and her live-in nanny, she'd had no break from childcare. It felt good to let Victor take over for a few precious moments.

“Delphine feels as if she has done something that needs forgiveness you see,” he said. “But she can't forgive herself.”

Maggie realized that Victor had nailed it precisely. The guilt she'd sensed in Delphine hadn't made sense up until now. Sorrow, yes, even regret, but not
culpability
.

An elderly man approached the table and spoke to Victor in a low voice. He held a menu in his hands. Maggie couldn't catch what he was saying but Victor nodded and said, “Of course. I would be honored.” Victor pulled out a fountain pen and signed the back of the menu and then shook hands with the man.

“A fan?” Maggie asked when the older man left.

“In a way,” Victor said. “You know of my personal tragedy during the war, yes?”

Maggie nodded.

“People remember the past. They remember the ones who survived, the ones who didn't. Do you know there is a fish shop in a village in Provence where some villagers refuse to shop because seventy years ago the family owners collaborated with the Germans?”

“Wow. Way to hold a grudge.”

“My history gives me a special status, you see. It is one of the reasons I believe that only I can help Delphine forgive herself.”

“You really love her.”

“In any life, a great love comes. There is no doubt for me that love is Delphine. I just need to convince her that she is deserving.”

“How long have you been at it?”

“Oh, I am not caring how long it takes. And perhaps she will never turn to me and say ‘Victor, it is you. All along it is you.' But I think in her heart she already knows and for me that is enough.”

“I don't know what she'd do without you.”

“She says the same thing about you!” They both laughed.

The waitress came and deposited two brimming bowls in front of them. The fragrance from the boiled beef mingled with the hearty vegetables swimming in the broth. Maggie cut into the beef and dredged a piece of French bread in the broth. It was redolent with cloves and pepper.

“Oh my God, this is amazing,” she said after the first bite.

The waitress returned with a large plate of toast and a cellar of salt.

“Eat the marrow,” Victor said. “Scoop it out and spread it on the toast. It's even better that way. Trust me.” Maggie did and felt herself transported back to Laurent's kitchen. Her ecstasy over the dish was tempered by a sudden longing for her husband.

“How are you going to eat with one hand?” she asked, nodding at the sleeping baby in the crook of his left arm.

“I will treasure the handicap,” he said, picking up a fork.

They ate in silence for a moment with only the sounds of Mila cooing happily in Victor's arms.

“You don't happen to know why Delphine and her nephews don't speak, do you?” Maggie asked.

“Gerard?”

“Well, I can understand her not wanting to talk to Gerard, but Laurent is a really good guy. He's practically a cornerstone of respectability in his wine co-op and the village where we live.”

“But Delphine can only see the young man he was?”

“That's what I think.”

“I'm sorry,
chérie
. She never speaks of them. Either of them.”

“The whole family is just such a damn mystery, it's nice to talk to someone who also has to wade through all their defense mechanisms.”

Victor laughed and reached for his glass of wine. “They're worth it,” he said.

“Isn't it hard on you?” Maggie asked. “Being so close to Delphine and her ghosts from the war, considering what happened to you?”

“Not as much as you might think. I was a child during the war. I had no real experience with its horrors.”

“Beyond losing your family to it.”

“
Oui
,” he said softly. “Beyond that.”

“Do you know what it is that makes her so sad?”

“Delphine has said some things over the years but nothing to reveal the crux of why she cannot forgive herself. My purpose is to let her know that regardless of what she thinks she's done, it doesn't matter. She is loved. And she is forgiven.”

“I think she feels she could have done something to save her friend Camille.”

“The one executed as a
collabo
?” He shook his head. “There is no balm for that kind of wound. Not even time.”

“I know, but I thought maybe if I was able to find out what happened to Camille's daughter…maybe Delphine could…get some closure on the whole thing.”

“Americans,” Victor said with a laugh. “Everything is a happy-ever-after Disney movie for you, yes? But, of course you may be right. We French think that sort of sentimentality is nonsense but half the time it is exactly right. Do you think you can find her?”

“I don't know,” Maggie admitted. “And if I do, I'm not sure it will help.”

Victor leaned out and touched Maggie's hand, his eyes glistening with emotion. “Just your trying has already helped beyond what you can even imagine.”

A
fter lunch
, Maggie waved goodbye to Victor. She hadn't found out any family secrets but she had gotten one step closer to understanding the family and that was something. She could see Victor's love for Delphine and could only imagine the kind of angst that wouldn't let Delphine enjoy it—or return it.

When she stepped off the elevator to Delphine's apartment Amelie was just leaving. Inside, Delphine was sitting in the living room. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, her eyes darting around the room.

“Hi, Delphine,” Maggie said as she entered the apartment. “Everything okay?”

Delphine looked up at her as if she didn't know her at first but quickly shook herself out of her reverie.

“You are back.”

“Let me change the baby,” Maggie said moving down the hall to her room. “I'll be right in.”

Why is it every time she left she had the feeling something bad had just happened? Had Gerard been back? Did Michelle make an unexpected visit? Maybe it was just sharing the same room with Amelie? Spending two hours with
her
would definitely have most people contemplating suicide ledges.

Maggie returned to the living room and put Mila on the floor after making sure any and all cords of expensive lamps were well out of reach. The transformation to Delphine upon seeing the baby was immediate. Her face cleared and a smile tugged at her lips. Before Maggie knew she was doing it, the elderly woman slipped from the couch to the carpet to sit next to the baby.

“Hello,
ma petite
,” Delphine said to Mila. “Did you miss me a little?”

“I had lunch with Victor,” Maggie said.

Delphine's eyes brightened. “I'm glad. I know he looks forward to our little lunches and I haven't felt up to it lately.”

Milo crawled over to her and reached for Delphine's pearl bracelet.

“Have you eaten?” Maggie asked. “I picked up sandwiches on the way back.”

Delphine looked up. “You may leave her with me, you know,” she said. “Mademoiselle Mila and I will be just fine.”

Maggie hesitated. The fact was she
was
a little restless. Until Delphine offered, she hadn't realized that a few hours on her own was exactly what she needed.