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Authors: Susan Kiernan-Lewis

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BOOK: Murder in the Latin Quarter
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Another lost child
, Maggie thought as she turned from the window to get ready for bed.
I always seem to be looking for lost little girls.
As she crossed the living room, her eyes went to the spot where Delphine had looked when she all but admitted to being attracted to the hated German invaders.

Maggie walked into the hallway and, peering into the shadows, saw what she had not seen before.

A small half door was built into the paneled wall. On its latch was a heavy padlock.

15

T
he next morning
Maggie was awakened early by a small team of cleaners who'd arrived to prepare Delphine's apartment for the party that night. Maggie still could not get over the fact that Delphine felt well enough for a party—even a small gathering of fifteen—but Delphine wouldn't consider cancelling it.

Over the noise of the trio of women scrubbing, vacuuming and dusting, Maggie bundled Mila up in her stroller and gave Delphine a quick kiss.

“See you tonight,” she said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“You sound like Victor,” Delphine said with a laugh. “Yes, I'm sure. It is just one night.”

“Get some rest if you can,” Maggie said. “Is Amelie coming?”

“Yes, but not until later,” Delphine said. “She will serve at the party.”

Boy, that should be jolly
. Maggie had an image of Amelie in an apron holding a tray of canapés daring anyone to enjoy themselves.

“Are you sure you must leave so soon?” Delphine asked. She looked suddenly vulnerable and frail.

“I'll be back long before the guests arrive,” Maggie said. “But I want to get Mila settled.” Maggie would spend the night at Grace's tonight so that Beatrice could watch both children. It was just one night.


Oui
. Of course.”

“Is there anything I can pick up on my way back?”


Non
, Maggie. It is all done.” Delphine smiled and made a shooing gesture with her hands.

“I'll be back soon,” Maggie said as she pushed the stroller out into the hallway.

The walk back to Grace's took longer than usual. It began to sprinkle as soon as Maggie cleared the first overhang of the apartment building. Within steps, the morning drizzle turned into a downpour.

Maggie dashed under the nearest awning along the rue du Bac but she was already wet to the skin by then. Mila appeared to be enjoying the rain. She clapped her hands and squealed with delight as raindrops splattered up from the sidewalk onto her feet. Maggie grinned and reminded herself to slow down. She had all day to get back to Grace's and not much else to do in the meantime. She could afford to stand and watch the rain on one of the prettiest streets in the Latin Quarter.

What was behind that locked door in Delphine's foyer? Why was it hidden?
Could Maggie find the key to the lock?

Was it a terrible breech of etiquette contemplating a way to break into your hostess's locked room?

Maggie shook her head in frustration. No, she couldn't go into that room without Delphine's permission. But why wasn't she able to get the thought out of her head that there were answers in there?

Answers about Laurent's family.

Answers about what happened to Camille's daughter.

From where she stood on the wet street, Maggie could see the grey stone bulwark that heralded the Seine straight ahead. Except for a few hardy souls with umbrellas people had fled the streets. It wasn't hard to imagine what this same street must have looked like seventy years ago during the occupation, Maggie thought.

Not much had changed. The Seine was still there. The stone bridge that crossed over it to the Tuileries was the same one built in 1735. The apartments that lined the street were the same gorgeous Haussmann style buildings that had stood here then.

Maggie thought of the bullet holes in Delphine's building. She marveled that this quiet, innocent looking street could have been the stage for such violence. All over Paris it must have been the same.

An elderly woman dressed in black and holding a gigantic umbrella hurried by with her collar turned up against the rain. She look determined to get where she was going, weather be damned, and Maggie again found herself glad not to be in a rush for a change.

It had been difficult to fall asleep last night with everything she'd learned about Laurent. It broke her heart to think of him as an unloved, motherless boy. And his grandmother definitely didn't sound like she was the cookies and hugs type. Probably explained Gerard being the way he was, too. At the thought of Gerard, Maggie winced. She knew she needed to tell Laurent that Gerard had been harassing Delphine.

But what could Laurent do but threaten his brother? Was he going to move in with his aunt to protect her?

Besides, Maggie was pretty sure she'd dealt with the problem. Gerard was cowed. He'd literally run down the stairs when Maggie told him to get out.

No, she'd handled it. She was sure she'd never need to even mention the incident to Laurent.

G
race hung
up the phone and turned in bed to look at André lying beside her. She knew he was awake. He'd heard her talking to Beatrice—as covertly as she could but still, hard to hide from two feet away.

She hated reminding him that she was someone's mother. And if the few comments he'd made to her about children were any indication, he hated being reminded. It wasn't that he didn't like children. Far from it. He was brilliant with children. But he wasn't ready for any of his own—he'd made that clear.

Yesterday she was appalled that Maggie had brought the baby with her to meet André. She'd so wanted him to love Maggie the way she did.

But as it happened it wasn't the baby who'd proven to be the problem.

She flushed with annoyance at the memory. Sometimes Maggie could be so stubborn. She never even gave André a chance!

“That was the
au pair
,
chérie
?” André murmured without opening his eyes.

“It's nothing,” Grace said, as she snuggled up next to him.

He turned and looked at her, a lazy smile on his lips. “Good morning,
chérie
.”

“Morning, darling man,” she whispered.

“Have you heard from Maggie since last night?”

Grace paused. Was that a strange thing for him to ask? Or was it perfectly natural for him to want to know what her dearest friend thought of him?

“I haven't, no,” she said, moving to sit on the side of the bed. She knew he would snake an arm around her waist and pull her back to bed. He hated for her to leave their warm bed…

“When will we get together again?” he asked through a yawn.

Grace stood and picked up her silk robe from the floor.

“I don't know, darling,” she said, slipping on the robe but feeling the chill from the sparsely furnished room. André's apartment decor was classic Parisian, but cold both in temperature and style. Everything about the way he moved about in it—down to his hesitancy at times opening drawers, or operating the dishwasher, as if he wasn't quite sure where things were—screamed
temporary
but he said he'd lived here for years.

“Did you want to meet up again?” she asked.

“Don't you think so? Since she had to run off so soon?”

Grace watched him as he turned his back to her and pulled his pillow tight into his arms, obviously with no intention of getting up.

Or inviting her back to bed.

For some reason, as she watched him with his back to her after their night of love, she was reminded of the fact that he never received a phone call in her presence where he didn't slip out onto the balcony or the hallway or in some way remove himself to take it out of her hearing.

She had never really thought of it until now.

“Of course,” she said lightly. “Great idea.”

N
oel sat
in a café across from the intersection of where Saint-Germain crossed rue du Bac and watched the traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian. It was a pretty spot for watching people.

How many years he'd come to this very café and sat at this same table. At first he drank lemonades and was too small to have his feet touch the ground. Later as the years unwound and he grew old he drank coffee and sometimes wine and wondered where the years had gone.

In the first twenty years of his many visits to Paris, it had always been Delphine who spent time with him, never Georgette—and Delphine always came equipped with a multitude of excuses for why his biological mother wasn't available.

Is Delphine correct? Is it all just too late to matter at this point?

Of course she would say that. It wasn't her not knowing who her parents were or where she'd come from
.

Noel finished the dregs of his espresso.

Only Delphine knew the truth. And the time for him to learn it from her was running out.

Had he really been in Paris two full days without yet calling on her? What was he afraid of?

He dropped two euros on the table.

Enough.

She will tell me what I need to know.
All the questions will be answered, starting with
am I in your will for more than a token amount
?

She will be made to answer him. She will not take refuge in death. Not yet anyway.

His eyes followed the smooth contours of the Haussmann apartment buildings across the street that lined the rue du Bac, hiding the wealthy, the privileged, the entitled.

And of course, the biggest question of them all.

Are you my mother?

16

D
elphine gazed around her apartment
. The mantel was lined with fat pillar candles, all glowing and throwing warm wedges of golden light around the room. Bunches of the palest pink peonies were positioned throughout the living room in crystal vases on nearly every available tabletop. The candles and the flowers had been Maggie's doing. She'd returned to the apartment at midday with her arms full of flowers and a few ideas to make the evening even more special.

How is it I have found this delightful girl? How is it that she just dropped into my life?
C
an it be true that Laurent is worthy of her? Perhaps Maggie is hiding a secret of her own? Perhaps the reason she is alone in Paris with Mila is because the brute has abandoned her? Maggie is so brave. And the way she defends him after all he's done to her!

Delphine reminded herself to encourage Maggie to tell her the truth. She needn't be ashamed of having chosen the wrong man. She would survive that. Delphine would make sure of it.

“Do you have everything, Delphine?” Maggie asked as she sat down next to her on the sofa. The sounds of the caterers came from the kitchen. Maggie was dressed simply. A plain silk dress and flats. Not gauche by any means but not at all vogue.

“I am fine,” Delphine said, lifting her glass of champagne to prove it. “They will be arriving shortly. Are you sure the little one will be all right?”

Maggie took a sip of her own champagne from a long crystal flute. “Beatrice is wonderful with her. She adores kids.”

“That is helpful in a caretaker.”

Maggie laughed. “It is, isn't it?”

The doorbell rang and immediately Amelie came out of the kitchen. She hesitated, staring at Delphine and Maggie on the couch.

“Don't just stand there, Amelie,” Delphine said with impatience. She turned to Maggie as Amelie trudged toward the door. “I will bet you that our first guest is Monsieur Rousseau,” she said.

“That's your beau, right?” Maggie said.

“Mm-mm. Well, he thinks so anyway,” Delphine said, her eyes twinkling.

“Delphine!
Chérie
!”

Victor hobbled into the living room, his eyes bright. Delphine noticed he carried his walking stick tonight. He didn't always.

He came to Delphine and kissed her on both cheeks and then shook hands with Maggie.

“I have heard so much about you,” he said to Maggie.

“And me you,” Maggie said. “Sit down and I'll get you a drink.”


Non
,” Delphine said. “Amelie will do that. I want you and Victor to get to know each other.”

Victor slipped his hand in Delphine's and squeezed it. Delphine could see how happy he was, how ready to relax and enjoy himself he was. It reminded her—always it reminded her—of the old days when life was a whirl of parties and champagne and so many handsome men wanting to hold her hand…and more.

How could anyone have imagined she'd give up even a single night like this?

O
ne thing was sure
. Victor was certifiably gaga about Delphine.

As Maggie watched the two of them holding hands and smiling over their private jokes, she realized it felt good to see two oldsters stare devotedly into each other's eyes.

Gives me hope for old age
, Maggie thought, her thoughts drifting inevitably to Laurent. She'd had a brief phone call with him today but most of it had been spent with little Jemmy. She knew Laurent was busy. Getting the vineyard ready for harvest was a job in itself. Doing it with a two and a half year old boy underfoot was another thing altogether. She couldn't help but smile at the image. She had absolutely no doubt Jemmy was driving his dad to bed each night exhausted and brain dead.

Welcome to my world
, Maggie thought with a smile.

As Amelie continued to answer the door, Maggie watched Delphine become stronger and more animated with every new arrival.
She knew better than I did
, Maggie thought. This night is energizing her, not sapping her.
Maybe she should throw parties once a month?

Amelie had started passing trays of caviar and
foie gras
around the room by the time Grace and André made their entrance. Maggie was surprised they were so late. André had been so keen on coming, she thought it would mitigate any tendency on Grace's part for her usual fashionable tardiness.

Maggie was standing in the hallway talking to a middle-aged man who used to do business with Delphine's late husband when the doorbell rang.

“I'll get it,” Maggie called to Amelie who rolled her eyes in answer and turned to storm into the kitchen for the scallop timbales and
gougères
.

Grace and André were kissing as Maggie opened the door. Instantly, Maggie was annoyed. Was this for show? Were they not expecting someone to answer the door?

“Are you coming in?” Maggie asked abruptly. “Or should I just leave the door ajar?”

“Maggie, darling!” Grace said. Her eyes were glassy and her lipstick had migrated from her mouth to her chin.


Bon soir
, Maggie,” André said, leaning over and kissing her on both cheeks. “I am so excited to be meeting your aunt.” He pushed past her into the apartment.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Maggie muttered.

“Darling, which way is the loo?” Grace said as André bee-lined it for the living room where Delphine sat with Victor.

“Jeez, Grace. You're three sheets.”

“Don't be offens…offensive,” Grace slurred. “The bathroom, please?”

Maggie gestured down the hall and watched Grace stumble toward the guest bath.

Unbelievable!
Maggie shook her head but before she could shut the front door, a man put his hand out to stop it from closing.

“Oh! I'm sorry,” Maggie said. “I didn't know there was anyone else there.”

“You must be Maggie,” the man said. He was very tall and at least seventy. His hair was white and thick and he wore a grey bushy mustache under a hook nose which softened the effect. Maggie recognized him immediately from his photographs.

“Oh, my gosh. You're Uncle Noel,” Maggie said with a laugh, holding out her hand. “I didn't know you were coming. Does Delphine know?”

“I just flew into Paris today,” Noel said.

“She will be so delighted,” Maggie said as she took his arm and headed for the living room with him.

Delphine and Victor were talking to André when Maggie and Noel entered. She could tell that André was a hit with them. Already, he spoke to Victor with his head close to his as if listening carefully to anything the elderly man had to say. Delphine turned when Maggie approached and her eyes lit up like Maggie had only seen when Mila was in the room.

“Noel!
Mon chou
!” Delphine said as Noel embraced and kissed her. “You made it.”

“As you see,” Noel said settling down beside Delphine. Maggie noticed that Victor was distracted from André's attentions with Noel's arrival and she found herself wondering if he knew the story behind Noel's birth.

Amelie set a large tray down on the coffee table in front of the group. Small stacks of china plates, linen napkins and silver forks were set next to a crystal bowl of golden
gougères
, the steam still wafting from them.

“More champagne, please, Amelie,” Delphine said without looking at the woman.

Maggie stood up. “I'll do it,” she said, giving Amelie a bright smile. She went into the kitchen to get a bottle of champagne and two more flutes. While she was there she stuck her head in the hallway to see if she could hear or see Grace. The bathroom was completely quiet.

If she's passed out in there, I swear…

“Maggie?”

She turned to see André in the hallway. He took the champagne bottle from her. “Your aunt sent me to help.”

“What's going on with Grace?” Maggie asked.

André frowned. “Going on?”

“She's drunk.”

He looked around as if just realizing he hadn't seen Grace in awhile. “Really?”

Maggie took the bottle back from him. “Why don't you go check on her?
Comprenez
?”

André grinned and wagged a finger at Maggie. “You don't like me, do you?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”


Non, ce n'est pas ridicule
,” he said, his eyes languidly dropping to Maggie's breasts. “You don't like me.”

Suddenly Maggie knew who André reminded her of and she also knew why Grace was attracted to him…
and why it couldn't last
. André was as close to being the French version of Connor MacKenzie as Maggie had ever seen. She couldn't believe she hadn't recognized it before.

Connor. The father of Zouzou. And the body in the cellar on Maggie's first Thanksgiving in Provence.

André leaned over before Maggie knew what he was doing and kissed her on the mouth. She jerked back and dropped the champagne bottle, her hand flying to her face. The bottle didn't break but gushed out in a foamy cascade onto the herringbone wood flooring. Two caterers in the kitchen cried out. One with a towel in her hands pushed past Maggie and immediately dropped to her knees to begin mopping up the mess.

André turned to walk toward the bathroom where Grace was. His laughter, genuine and warm, followed him down the hall.

M
ost of the
people had left by midnight. Delphine sat in the living room flanked by Victor and Noel all evening long. Maggie knew she was happy; Maggie could see that by her flushed face and by how many times she heard Delphine's deep-throated chuckle.

André had clearly discovered he had a problem with Grace since, moments after leaving Maggie in the kitchen, he carried Grace to the guest room where he left her for the rest of the evening. While he stood near Delphine in the living room, interjecting when he could, he very carefully did not catch Maggie's eye. Eventually, he went back to check on Grace and reappeared with her on his arm. She looked bedraggled, her hair a mess, her makeup rearranged down her face. Maggie had never seen Grace drunk. And she'd certainly never seen her passed-out, makeup-sloppy drunk.

Why had André kissed her? If she hadn't had an effing champagne bottle in her hand, she'd like to think she would have smacked him a good one. Maybe she should've hit him with the bottle? She certainly hadn't wanted the kiss—he smelled like cigarettes and licorice and he hadn't shaved. Had she been looking at him as she remembered Connor? She'd been fond of Connor. Perhaps André misread her cues?

Or perhaps he was just an ass-hat who didn't think twice about kissing his girlfriend's best friend.

Maggie watched André deliver his goodnights to Delphine and half carry Grace out the front door.

“I'm sorry your friend wasn't feeling well, Maggie,” Delphine said.

“I wish you could know her as I do,” Maggie said.

“She is in love,” Noel said, shrugging. “It is not always our best moment.”

Maggie laughed and felt some of the tension release in her shoulders. “You can say that again.”

“Delphine tells me our boy Laurent is a different man,” Noel said. “I would very much like to meet him again.”

Delphine made a snorting noise and looked away. Maggie was surprised. She knew Delphine had a bad opinion of Laurent but she'd thought she was open to thinking he'd changed.

“I hope you will sometime,” Maggie said. “He is the best man I know.”

“Strong words,” Delphine said, watching Maggie closely.

She doesn't believe me
.

“Well, then, we will have to arrange it,” Noel said. “It is important to remember family. There are so few of us left.”

“Do you have to leave?” Delphine asked Noel. “I have a guest room, you know.”

“I thought I was in the guest room tonight?” Victor said indignantly.

“Why did you think that?” Delphine said, clearly surprised.

BOOK: Murder in the Latin Quarter
13.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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