Harper Lin - Patisserie 06 - Crème Brûlée Murder (4 page)

Thank goodness her time in the limelight, or whatever it was, was over. She could go back to her daily routine, running errands—or solving murders—around the city without worrying about the tabloids and blogs scrutinizing whether she looked good without makeup or where she got her shoes. Clémence wasn’t cut out to be a celebrity, however minor.

She took the Métro to the 10th arrondissement. Maya’s office was north of Gare du Nord.

Sebastien guessed that Maya was out for a business lunch, probably with an author, which was what she did often. After Sebastien gave her the contacts for Maya’s company, she’d tried calling the office, but she got the voicemail, probably because it was lunchtime. Clémence didn’t mind going to Maya’s office to wait for her. If Maya turned out to be out for the entire day, Clémence would just hop over to Madeleine’s workplace to speak to her instead.
 

She followed the map on her phone to a run-down Haussmanian building. The office was on the fourth floor, and Clémence walked up the creaky old stairs. There were two doors, and she pushed open the one on the right to see a receptionist.

The young woman had fire engine red hair that came from a bottle and wore vintage cat-eye glasses. “Can I help you?” she asked.
 

“Yes, I’m here to see Maya.”
 

“She’s actually lunching with a client right now.” She typed into her computer. “Do you have an appointment?”
 

“No, but we’re friends. It’s a personal meeting about something important. Do you know when Maya will be back?”
 

The young woman regarded her with interest. She had a wide mouth, with coral lipstick that clashed with her hair applied to her thin lips. “You can wait for her. Maya should be back soon. She doesn’t have a meeting until three p.m., so she should be free when she comes back.”
 

“Great.
Merci
.” Clémence sat down on one of the chairs.
 

“I’m Daphne, by the way.”

“Clémence.
Enchantée.
”

The office was decorated in a modern barnyard chic style, with its glass tables with tree trunk legs, fluffy white carpeting, and pale blue wooden chairs with purposely chipped paint. A nature motif ran throughout the décor and wall art.
 

Daphne tilted her head and examined her. “You look familiar.”
 

Clémence tried to brush it off. “People are always saying I look like somebody. I must have one of those faces.”
 

Daphne seemed like the type to read gossip blogs and tabloids. Clémence hoped she didn’t recognize her. Luckily, she didn’t seem to.

“How long have you been friends with Maya?” Daphne asked.

Clémence surmised that she was probably bored stiff at her office job most of the time, and wanted to chat—gossip. She figured she could use this to her advantage. “I met her only recently,” Clémence replied. “She’s dating a friend of mine.”
 

“Ah, the guy who comes around, who’s always smiling?” she asked.

Sebastien now had a reputation for constantly smiling? Clémence chuckled at the thought of the new Seb and how much he’d changed recently. How love could transform a person.
 

“Yes,” Clémence said. “He’s a good friend of mine. I don’t know Maya too well, but she seems really nice. It’s impressive what she’s accomplished. Do you know she used to work at a culinary magazine?”
 

“Right, before she came to work here.” Daphne nodded, pity blatant in her expression. “Poor thing, getting fired before she could really make a name for herself.”
 

“Fired?” Clémence frowned. “I didn’t know that.”
 

“Oh yeah. She’d worked her way up at this magazine, ever since she interned while she was still in university. Last year she finally got a shot at her dream job of being the editor. Can you imagine? Being an editor of a nationwide magazine at thirty? Anyway, the magazine folds as soon as the boss’s son takes over. She wanted to work at another magazine, but that Laberg guy just wouldn’t give her a break.”
 

“Why not?”
 

“I don’t know. But he sounds pretty awful. She says he’s an arrogant asshole, so I guess they didn’t get along. Then she started working here. She seems pretty content at this job.”
 

“Wow. That sucks.” Clémence took it all in. Sebastien had said that Maya changed careers because she wanted to, not because she was fired. Maya must’ve lied. What else did she lie about?

If Maya hated Cesar, she didn’t act like it at the party. She was smiling the entire time, even when she was talking to him.
 

Just then Clémence’s phone rang. It was Inspector Cyril St. Clair.

“Excuse me,” she said to Daphne, and she went outside to take the call. “Cyril?”

“Damour,” he replied. “I’ve got news.”

“What is it?” Clémence asked breathily.
 

“Your friend, Cesar Laberg? Well, he committed suicide.”
 

“
What?
”
 

“Yes. We got the blood test back, and he’d taken antidepressant. His psychiatrist confirmed that he’d prescribed them. Cesar had overdosed, taking the toxic dose.”

“So he was depressed? Really?”
 

“Yes. Not only that, this morning, his mother found a suicide letter in his study.”
 

“Did Cesar live alone?”

“His family owns a mansion in Neuilly-sur-Seine. Cesar still lived at the family home, and he had half a floor to himself.”
 

“What did the suicide letter say?” Clémence asked.
 

“It’s quite a logical letter. Not very emotional at all, but practical. It was more of a will, listing what he wanted to give away to people.”
 

“Can I see the letter?”
 

Inspector Cyril St. Clair sputtered. “Do you think I’m working for you? No, you can’t see this letter. The only reason I’m even calling you is to tell you that it was a suicide so you could stop whatever snooping you’re doing at the moment.”
 

“Do you even know if the letter’s real?” Clémence said.
 

“His family recognized his writing,” he shot back defensively.

“Yes, but handwriting can be faked. Have you taken it in for a graphology test?”
 

“It’s real,” he protested. Clémence heard him take a deep breath. “But yes, I did plan on submitting it for a test.”
 

“Sure you did,” Clémence muttered under her breath.

“
Pardon?
”
 

“Where did you find the letter?”
 

“Enough, Damour. This case is closed. Caesar Laberg had a case of depression nobody knew about. He was prescribed pills, and he took one too many at your birthday party. Maybe because he was drunk. Who knows what this guy was thinking? The rich are always messed up. I really suspected he had a coke problem at first. But we figured it out, and that’s that. He committed suicide, and that’s the bottom line.”

He hung up. Clémence walked around the hallway, thinking. Cesar Laberg committed suicide? It was plausible. She hadn’t known him too well, and she would have no idea what kind of demons he had.
Maybe I should just forget about meeting Maya and go home
. At least she didn’t have to mull over which one of her guests was a murderer.

As she turned to go back inside to tell Daphne that she was going to go, she heard footsteps coming from the bottom of the staircase. Clémence looked down and saw Maya’s curly dark hair. For the party, Maya had a bold Afro, but today she had it styled into a poufy bun on top of her head.
 

Maya was originally from Guinea. She had coffee-colored skin, full lips, and dark, almond-shaped eyes. As Maya neared the fourth floor, Clémence saw that she was wearing bold hot pink blazer and electric blue glasses. At her party, Maya had looked more like Diana Ross, in a classy silver dress, but today, she looked every bit of the hip young professional working in the publishing industry.

She looked up and noticed Clémence. “Hey, Clémence?”
 

“Maya,
salut
.” Clémence greeted her with
bisous
on the cheeks. “I’m here to see you.”
 

“I just got Sebastien’s message when I was walking back to the office. Come on in to my office.”
 

Before Clémence could protest, Maya ushered her in. Clémence figured it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Maya and possibly get more information about Cesar in case she ever needed it.
 

Maya’s office kept in line with the barnyard chic decor. The light green walls gave the room an air of serenity. On the wall above her desk was photography triptych of tree bark, branches, and leaves. Her desk was a huge slab of wood with metal legs. Only a silver MacBook and a minimalist silver lamp were on her desk.
 

“I love the decor,” Clémence said. “My mom would approve. She’s very into interior design.”
 

“Thank you! I’m liking it too.” Maya closed the door. “My coworkers are total minimalists, and I guess I’ve adapted to their tastes. Please sit down. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“It’s about Cesar Laberg.”
 

Maya nodded. She took off her glasses. It left ridges on the sides of her nose. “I kind of figured.”
 

“I hope you’ve recovered from that evening. I know it wasn’t exactly a conventional party.”
 

“It was definitely a shock.” Maya sighed. “The police grilled me for hours. Then I had a total breakdown and cried because I was so tired. I asked for a lawyer because they seemed to find it more suspect that I was crying. Sunday, I kind of just spent the day inside, trying to pull myself together for the workweek.”
 

“Well, the—”

“Clémence, I heard from Sebastien that you’re good at solving crimes. I figure you’re probably trying to gather information about Cesar and his death.”
 

“Yes, but—”

“Do you suspect me? Because I don’t blame you if you do. The police does. I haven’t heard from them yet, although they’re supposed to go through my lawyer at this point. But I had nothing to do with Cesar’s death, despite what it seems. What do you want to know about us? That Cesar and I worked together, and that he fired me? Yes, we didn’t get along, but I would never kill him! Never.”
 

Maya’s expression contorted into one of pain. Clémence thought she was on the verge of crying. Before she could reassure her and tell her what the inspector had found out, Maya spoke up again.

“It’s true that I hated him. I’ll lay it all on the table now. I’d been working at Laberg since I was in university. I’d always wanted to be the editor of a magazine. I was lucky enough to get an internship at
Bon Goût
. Who doesn’t love food?”

“I remember that magazine,” Clémence said, nodding. “It was great. I think they even did a feature on my parents years ago.”
 

“Right. I think it was when I first started interning. That’s when I learned to write about articles about food, chefs, and restaurants, and it turned out that I was good at it. When I graduated, I got hired as an editorial assistant. I did the usual assistant tasks, and they gave me small writing jobs, like short restaurant reviews or chef profiles. Then I managed the blog portion of the website. Three years ago, I got promoted to a features writer. It was fantastic, and I was over the moon. Fast forward two years, and I’m promoted to editor. Editor at twenty-nine. Not bad, right? Well. Then Cesar Laberg took over the magazine department.” Maya rubbed her eyes underneath her glasses.
 

“Did you have to work with Cesar all the time?”
 

“I’d known him for a while, since we all work in the same building. He’d been working in another department while I was moving up the ranks through the years. Our paths did cross sometimes, like at company parties, events. Sometimes at restaurants for lunch. I never liked him. He was arrogant, kind of obnoxious, and he only got his position through nepotism, which I couldn’t stand.”
 

Clémence inwardly cringed. She had often been accused of nepotism, herself. Her parents were successful bakers and business owners. Damour was a huge success in France and in major cities around the world. She was an heiress who would inherit all this someday with her older brother and sister. In the meanwhile, she had one of the best jobs in the industry. She made creative decisions all day, inventing dessert flavors and helping her bakers make macarons and pastries when they needed extra help.
 

“He would hit on me, too,” Maya continued. “At first, he’d just flirt, but after a while, he started asking me out all the time. I just wasn’t interested. He had a reputation. He dated quite a lot of girls at the company and left them heartbroken. I didn’t want to go through that. Besides. I didn’t find him attractive. He was too self-righteous and self-entitled. I even told him that when he kept persisting on taking me out for drinks. I prefer someone more quiet and sweet, like Sebastien. Anyway, Cesar took over the magazine department and said he was shutting down
Bon Goût
. Many of us got laid off. To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement. I tried to apply for other jobs at the magazine, even lower positions, but I found that I was kind of blacklisted. Or at least that’s how it felt like.”
 

“You think Cesar blacklisted you at the company?” Clémence asked.
 

“Maybe. Maybe it was revenge for rejecting him all these years and bruising his ego. He could get any girl he wanted and probably wasn’t used to rejection. I tried applying for editorial jobs at other magazines, but the only good offer I got was at a tabloid. I turned them down, and luckily, I found a good job here. I still miss writing for a magazine, but I love helping authors, and nurturing their careers. Sometimes I do freelance on the side at magazines, so I’m getting the best of both worlds, really.” Maya took off her glasses and looked Clémence in the eyes. “I’m telling you all this because I want to lay it all on the table. Yes, my relations with Cesar hasn’t been all that great, but I certainly didn’t have anything to do with his death.”