Murder in the Latin Quarter (17 page)

T
here was
no way anyone was going back to sleep.

Two detectives arrived within the hour and by then both Delphine and Maggie were dressed and working on their second pot of coffee. The two men were incredibly respectful of Delphine, if slightly suspicious of Maggie and her role in the household.
Or that could just be the whole being American thing
, Maggie thought as one of the men narrowed his eyes at her.

Gerard's body had been found by his landlord. His front door was left open and one of the neighbor's dogs had wandered in to look for food. The landlord found Gerard with his throat slit.

As soon as the words about Gerard's death were out of Delphine's mouth, Maggie knew this had something to do with Isla's murder.

How could it not? How many deaths happened right next to each other? How could it possibly be a coincidence?

As she made a third pot of coffee—wondering if it was really a good idea for anyone even French people at this point—it struck her that she was going to have to call Laurent as soon as it was officially morning. As light streamed through the kitchen window and the first sounds of Mila crying came through the apartment, she realized it was time.

What in the world could she say to him?

She went to fetch Mila and brought her into the living room. Maggie's French was just good enough to understand that the cops were consoling Delphine and alluding to the fact that it appeared that Monsieur Dernier's risky lifestyle had finally caught up with him.

Maggie served them the coffee with Mila on her hip. She watched Delphine closely to make sure she was bearing up and she tried to understand as much as she could of their conversation.

“When did you last hear from your nephew?” one of the detectives asked.

Delphine looked at the detective as if she didn't understand him. Her eyes turned to Maggie, beseeching.

“Thursday,” Maggie said to the detective. “He came here last Thursday evening.”

Both detectives looked at Maggie as if—instead of giving helpful information—they weren't entirely convinced she wasn't somehow involved.

“I am sorry, Madame,” one of the detectives said to Delphine, deliberately turning from Maggie as if she hadn't spoken. “It is a terrible thing.” He peeled off a business card and handed it to her. “If you think of anything else.”

With one last negatively appraising look at Maggie, the detectives let themselves out of the apartment. Maggie went into the kitchen and found some teething crackers for Mila who began happily gnawing on them.

Did this mean Gerard
didn't
kill Isla? Did the same person who killed Isla also kill Gerard? And what does it have to do with Delphine?

When she returned to the living room, Maggie promptly settled Mila on the couch next to Delphine. Mila always calmed Delphine. And this morning was no different. Maggie could see a tremor in Delpine's hand as she touched Mila's shoulder gingerly.

“You and the baby are in danger,” Delphine said.

Maggie felt her heart begin to race. “Can you tell me why you think that, Delphine?”

Delphine looked at her and shook her head.

“I knew it would follow me to the grave,” she said. “But I prayed it would leave my loved ones alone.”

“What do you mean, Delphine?
What
would leave your loved ones alone?”

“The war, of course,” Delphine said, looking away from Maggie and her eyes resting again on Mila. “I always knew it would find me.”

Maggie sighed in frustration. “The war was a long time ago,” she said.

“
Non, chérie
,” Delphine said, her eyes welling with tears. “It was yesterday.”

M
aggie prepared
a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast with jam. In her mind, cheese grits were an essential component of comfort food—and Laurent always made sure they had plenty in stock—but she had to give Delphine her best Southern healing without it.

After breakfast, Delphine went to her bedroom to lay down. Maggie had delayed calling Laurent for as long as she could. She also knew she'd have to tell him she'd seen Gerard last week—while doing everything in her power to downplay it—and she'd face the music on that. Although she knew from experience that Laurent's fury sounded absolutely nothing like music.

Before she could settle Mila in her bed for her morning nap, the landline in the living room rang. Maggie snatched it up before it could ring in Delphine's bedroom.

“
Allo
?” she said. She wasn't great at speaking or understanding French over the phone. She hoped this wasn't the police.

“Madame Dernier?”

Maggie recognized Michelle's voice immediately.

“This isn't a good time,” Maggie said.

“We need to meet, Madame,” Michelle said.

“Today is a bad day.” Maggie hung up and waited, half expecting the phone to ring again. Before she could make the decision about whether or not to leave the phone off the hook, she saw that her phone was vibrating with a picture of her husband on the screen.

“Hey, you,” Maggie said.

“What is wrong?”

“Wow. That is some serious radar even for you,” Maggie said with a weak laugh.

“Is Mila—?”

“We're both fine, Laurent,” Maggie said, sagging onto the couch and beginning to feel the exhaustion of not getting a full night's sleep. “But I do have some bad news. It's Gerard.”

“Bad news how?”

“We just had a visit from two police detectives who informed your aunt that Gerard was killed last night.”

There was a pause. “Why did they come to my aunt?”

“Well, she had been paying his rent for the last several months.”

“How did he die?”

Maggie tried to imagine how Laurent was processing this. She tried to imagine his face and what he must be thinking. He hadn't been in touch with Gerard for years but still…Gerard was his brother.

“The cops said he'd had his throat cut,” Maggie said softly.

“You saw him this visit, didn't you?” he asked abruptly.

How in the hell could he tell that?

Maggie sighed. “He came to your aunt's house last week.”

“Last
week
?”

“Yes, I'm sorry, Laurent. I didn't want to worry you.”

“
D'accord.
I will try that line next time I don't want you to know something.”

Ouch
. Maggie's stomach clenched. He was right. And Grace was right. She should have told him.

“I'm sorry, Laurent. There's no excuse. I screwed up.”

He grunted and she could only imagine how furious he was with her right now. There'd been a few times in the past when his anger had gone volcanic, but he'd never been
nonverbal
.

“Your aunt doesn't want a memorial service,” Maggie said, hoping to distract him. “I think she's afraid of who might come. There's nothing for you to do up here and I know how busy you are down there.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Laurent, I've barely been here a full week yet. My visit was supposed to be for—”

“I'm no longer comfortable with you up there.”

“Well, that's weird because you seem very comfortable with me going to Atlanta all summer.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“Look, Delphine has a few nurses coming in tomorrow for interviews and Mila and I will be on a train heading back to St-Buvard by Thursday. How's that? Two more days.”

“I will come up there.”

Voices in the room with Laurent came filtering to Maggie over the phone.

“Are the people from the co-op there with you now?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Yes it does, Laurent. Please don't go all eighteen hundreds on me when you know you need to be there to make sure our livelihood is running smoothly.”

He didn't respond. There was every reason to believe—even as mad as he was—that he was at least half listening to her logic.

“I'm
fine
, Laurent. Gerard's visit to your aunt last week was about thirty seconds long. He didn't even come into the apartment.”

There was a heavy sigh on his side and Maggie imagined how torn he must be. For a certifiable control freak like Laurent, letting Maggie run wild in Paris while two murders happened around her must be excruciating beyond her comprehension.

“Two more days,” he said finally.

“I'll be home before you know it. Kiss Jemmy for me. And Laurent? I'm so sorry about Gerard.”

Maggie went into the bedroom to check on Mila and then laid down on her bed. The weariness began to vibrate through her body. She hated conversations with Laurent where things were held back but she knew it would only worry him and he had his hands full running the vineyard.

It wasn't just that Gerard had threatened Delphine that Maggie had held back or that she had met with the descendant of a Gestapo thug. The thing that really worried Maggie was that she didn't feel she could tell him the very important fact that she had been in the room when Delphine called the police to report Gerard's murder.

Which meant it hadn't been the police who called her in the middle of the night to tell her about Gerard's death.

So who did?

T
he day was
a quiet one and for that Maggie was grateful. Delphine woke up a little after two in the afternoon and Maggie put together a late lunch of cold cuts. Just before they sat down, the phone rang. Maggie hesitated to answer it, fearing it might be Michelle again—and she still hadn't sorted out in her mind what she was going to do about that—but Delphine picked it up and spoke tartly into the receiver in quick French to whoever was on the other end.

“Everything okay?” Maggie asked as Delphine came back to the dining table.

“That was Noel. He is downstairs and needing the code to enter. I told him to go get bread and come back.”

It made sense that Noel would come—especially if he was in town—but Maggie worried about the after effects of the conversation he'd had with Delphine yesterday morning. Would he table his personal agenda long enough to comfort his aunt?

It suddenly occurred to Maggie that with Gerard out of the picture, Noel would inherit a much larger share of Delphine's fortune.

Noel showed up along with Amelie whom he'd met in the foyer on the way up. Maggie tried to imagine anything more uncomfortable than sharing an elevator with Amelie even for the ninety seconds it took to ascend to the fifth floor. But if she had any doubts about Noel's behavior, she was quickly relieved. He took Delphine into his arms as soon as he stepped across the threshold.

The two stayed that way, rigid but connected.
Like mother and son?
Maggie couldn't help but wonder. Clearly that's how Noel felt, the way he held Delphine in his arms was the picture of a protective, loving son. When they finally broke apart, Noel gave Maggie a rueful smile.

She knew this wasn't really a sad day. Nobody loved Gerard nor had done so in many years. But Delphine was shaken by his death. And for her sake, Noel and Maggie had drawn the ranks in close.

Amelie went immediately to the kitchen and began to noisily straighten what was already a spotless kitchen.

“I'm so glad you came,” Maggie said to Noel as he kissed her on both cheeks. The three sat down at the table.

“It is a terrible thing,” Noel said as he handed the baguette to Maggie. “Not that we weren't always expecting something like this…” He shrugged.

“I just saw him. Did I tell you?” Delphine said, her hand still on Noel's sleeve. “He came last week to demand money.”

“Such a charming relative,” Noel said, causing Delphine to frown. “Yes, yes. Today of all days, we will not speak the truth. I am sorry his loss has upset you so much,
chérie
. And will we meet your husband now, Maggie?”

“I talked to Laurent while you were sleeping, Delphine,” Maggie said. “He said he'd call you later.”

Delphine nodded and Maggie addressed Noel.

“Delphine said there won't be a service. Naturally Laurent would come up if Delphine needed him but…”

Noel shook his head. “No, no. He is a busy man, of course. I remember Uncle Nicolas, eh? Always the vineyard was his mistress. And Laurent was not close to his brother?”

“Not at all.” Maggie glanced at Delphine again as if to underscore her words.
They're nothing alike.
But Delphine was gazing at Noel.

“I thought while I was here today,” Noel said, “that I would retrieve my mother's table linens. Are they still in her
trousseau
,
chérie
?”

Delphine removed her hand from Noel's sleeve and Maggie had the impression that some message had just passed between them. She hoped Noel wasn't going to upset Delphine.

“I will have Amelie fetch them for you before you leave,” Delphine said.

Noel turned to Maggie. “Do you know my mother—my birth mother, Georgette—never once called or visited me in Switzerland? But Delphine did several times, didn't you,
chérie
?”

Delphine ate her lunch and ignored him.

“I wouldn't even know my mother's handwriting,” Noel continued. “Isn't that odd? But every birthday and Christmas I would receive a present and a card from my dearest of aunts.” He patted Delphine's hand as it lay on the table. “Who was like a mother to me.”

“Georgette loved you,” Delphine said almost sullenly.

“But of course,” Noel said. “It was merely the communication of that emotion she was no good at.”

Amelie came into the room and thumped down a crock of paté that had been in the refrigerator. She turned without a word and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Noel began to slather a piece of bread with the paté. The thought struck Maggie as she watched him blithely pop the morsel into his mouth and roll his eyes in exaggerated rapture:
does he know that Amelie is in the will too?

“You are very quiet, Maggie,” Noel said, reaching for the bottle of wine on the table.

Maggie smiled apologetically. Something felt wrong about sitting here eating lunch and not caring about Gerard—laying in a morgue somewhere about to be bundled away like a sack of garbage no one had any use for. Even if that was the case—and there was no doubt Gerard was an irredeemable swine—surely there should be at least a moment set aside for a thought of the loss of his life, however wasted a life it was.

Is that why Delphine is so quiet? Is she wondering if she could have done anything differently? Is she remembering Gerard as a little boy?

Or is she thinking about the person who called her to tell her of Gerard's death?

Does Delphine know who killed Gerard?

Noel poured his wine and then topped up his aunt's glass.
Noel is downright jolly
, Maggie thought with surprise. Does he know that Gerard's death made him a much richer man? Is he really here to give comfort to Delphine? Or to bring pressure on her to officially accept him as her son?

“
Le bébé
is falling asleep in her
chaise haute
,
chérie
,” Noel said happily. Maggie could see that Mila had indeed nodded off in her high chair. As soon as she saw her, Maggie got an idea.

She released the high chair straps and picked the baby up.

“I'm going to put her down for another nap,” she said, knowing it would likely mean Mila wouldn't go down this evening until midnight or later. “And then I thought I'd go take a little walk. Would that be all right?”

Delphine put a hand out to touch Mila's foot as Maggie passed her toward the bedroom.

“Of course,
chérie
,” she said. “Noel and I will be fine.”

“Better than fine,” Noel said cheerfully.

Maggie settled Mila down, dimmed the bedroom lights and shut the door. When she returned to the dining room, Noel and Delphine had moved to the living room.

“I'll see you when I get back, Noel,” Maggie said, hoping she wasn't leaving Delphine in a weakened state against yet another vulturous relative.

“Looking forward to it,” Noel said pleasantly as he seated himself opposite Delphine.

“Enjoy your walk,
chérie
,” Delphine said, the weariness and sadness evident in her voice.

“Will do,” Maggie said before she changed her mind to stay and try to protect Delphine against Noel's campaign, whatever it was.

On the other hand, is that really my place? Especially if Delphine really is his mother?

She went out the front door and down the stairs.

She'd have to hurry if she wanted to make it to Gerard's apartment and back before Mila awakened and Delphine began to worry.

A
melie cringed
when the front door slammed and she felt a burst of fury pulse through her.

Where did all these people come from? And when would they leave?

She gripped the coffee tray tightly in an attempt to force the tremor in her hands to stop.

All of these visitors weren't weakening the old woman. In some way they seemed to be energizing her. The damnable child was the worst! She actually seemed to be making Madame Normand grow stronger.

When would they leave?

I must be patient. And I must be brave.

To have come so close! To have thrown away her chance because of her cowardice. It was beyond galling.

She had been moments away—seconds away! Her hand outstretched…so very nearly there…when the American woman showed up and ruined everything.

It would have so obviously an accident. No one could have blamed her!

Amelie's mother had always told her:
In life you must use the opportunity when it comes. No need to create one. They always come
.

And it
had
come…with the broken elevator.

But she had hesitated.

Why?

Did she not want the old witch dead more than she wanted her own happiness? Was there anything she craved more than that?

So why had she hesitated?

She heard the sounds of Delphine and her nephew talking in the living room and felt the bitter bile rise in her throat.

I am waiting, Mother, for the opportunity to show itself. I am trying to be patient.

“Amelie! Where is our coffee?” Delphine called out from the living room.

Amelie gripped the tray as if it would snap apart in her hands.

Her opportunity would come.

It came once.

It would come again.

And this time she would not hesitate.