Murder in Aix (The Maggie Newberry Mystery Series Book 5) (4 page)

Chapter
Four

Maggie sat in the
large, sunny lounge in Julia’s apartment. She had bolted out the front door and
into her Renault while Laurent and Grace walked down the long gravel drive
trying to talk her into staying. In the end, Laurent insisted on driving her
and ushered Grace back into the house to wait for them. He promised they would
not be late. Now, he sat in one of the many cafés that lined the Cours and
waited for Maggie to emerge from the apartment building.

“Was it suicide?”
Maggie asked Julia gently. Julia was sitting straight-backed on her sofa,
holding a glass of untouched wine in her hands.

“What?” Julia
seemed to forcibly drag her attention back to Maggie from whatever private
world she was seeing in her mind’s eye.
Jacques
as she had last seen him?
Maggie wondered. “No. No, I can’t imagine. That
wouldn’t make sense. He wanted to reconcile, you know?”

Maggie nodded.
“But,” she said, “if you told him no, maybe he was so distraught that he…”

“No, Maggie. I
mean,
yes
, I told him no but he
didn’t seem a bit distraught. If anything, he seemed…energized by my rejection.
He was full-on for making me change my mind. He was up for the challenge. You
know?”

Maggie didn’t
really, but she nodded. “When did he leave?”

“Right after
dinner,” Julia said, indicating the dining table with a jerk of her head. It
was clear and tidy except for a glass bowl of nectarines. “He said he didn’t
feel well. I told you he was having problems?”

“Money problems?”

“Well, yes, that
too, I think, but I’m talking about his health. He didn’t feel good. I know he
wanted to stay, but he left early. He looked terrible. Like he was in pain.”

“How did you find
out about…?”

“His bitch of a
daughter called me,” Julia said. Her mouth was pressed in a firm, tight line.
“She called me screaming and…and…” Julia put her hands to her face and burst
into tears. “She was horrible. Just horrible.”

Maggie reached
over and put her arms around her friend. “I am so, so sorry, Jules.” She rubbed
her back. Over Julia’s shoulder, Maggie could see the large birdcage with the
multi-colored lovebird in it. A friendly little thing normally, it seemed to be
eyeing Maggie now in an indicting fashion, as if
she
were responsible for the unhappy sounds emanating from his
mistress.

“I shouldn’t
blame her,” Julia said, swallowing her sobs and trying to compose herself. “She
found him, you see.” She shook her head as if unable to clear the gruesome
picture from her brain.

“At his
apartment?”

“Yes. She was
supposed to meet him there or something. I didn’t get the whole story. And she
found him on the floor. He must have…it must have happened last night. He was
fully clothed. Oh, Maggie, I can’t believe he’s not in the world any more. I
can’t believe, it’s impossible to believe, he’ll never b-b-bother me again.” Julia
let her sobs break full force out of her and into her hands. Maggie held her
and patted her back.

“I know,
sweetie,” she said. “I know.”

The knock at the
door made both of them jump. Annoyed at the thought it might be Laurent,
impatient and coming to see what was taking so long, Maggie gave her friend a
brief squeeze and jumped up to wrench open the door. When she did, she gave a
gasp of bewilderment to find two uniformed police officers standing there
flanking none other than Detective
Inspecteur
Roger Bedard
—
looking way too
darkly handsome than any man had a right to.

“Roger!” she
blurted out.

“I should have
known,” he said, shaking his head when he saw her. Then his eyes travelled down
the front of her dress and his mouth fell open. “You’re pregnant,” he said,
stupidly.

“And here I
thought you weren’t a good detective,” Maggie retorted, her cheeks burning with
embarrassment.
 

Quickly recovering
himself, Bedard snapped out an order to his men and then pushed past Maggie
into Julia’s apartment.

“Hey, wait a
minute,” Maggie said. “You can’t come in here without a warrant or something.”

Roger moved to
stand directly in front of Julia where she sat, stupefied, on the sofa. Without
looking behind him, he held out a hand for the handcuffs he expected to fill it
and spoke directly to Julia.

“Madame Patrick, I
am placing you under arrest for the murder of Monsieur Jacques Tatois. Please
stand up.”

“Roger, no!”
Maggie tried to reach where Roger and Julia were standing, but one of the
uniformed police held out an arm to prevent her.

“Maggie, stay out
of this,” Roger said sternly. He spoke again to his men and the man who held
his arm out against Maggie dropped it to his side, but he continued to block
her from going any further.

“It’s okay,
Maggie,” Julia called to her with a shaky voice. “It’s a mistake and I’ll get
it sorted out.” She turned to Roger. “Where?”

“Your consulate
has been notified,” he said. “You’ll be held at the
Palais de Justice
here in Aix.

“I’m coming with
you,” Maggie said.

Roger and Julia
both turned to her. “Maggie, no,” they said, nearly in unison.

“I’ll be fine,
Maggie,” Julia said as she turned away and allowed Roger to cuff her hands
behind her back. “Have Laurent come pick me up in an hour.”

Roger took Julia
by the arm and shoved her past Maggie toward the door. Before exiting, he
turned to Maggie. “I wouldn’t bother.”

Maggie could see
the anger and hurt in his eyes, and something more. Shame. He knew he had no
right to his feelings. In a moment he was out the door and gone, but not before
Maggie thought she could hear Julia start to weep again.

*
              
*
                     
*

“What do you mean
they’re holding her overnight
?”
Maggie waddled over to where Laurent stood in the living room of their home. He
had just tossed down his cellphone and stood staring out the French doors into
the distance, as if an answer might be out there that wasn’t available anywhere
else.

“Just that,
ma chère
,” he said tiredly. “They will
not release her tonight.”

“But I told Julia
you would come pick her up.” Maggie looked helplessly at Laurent and then over
at Grace, who was sitting quietly in an overstuffed armchair watching her.

“
Je sais
,” he said, reaching an arm out
to draw her close to him.
I know
.
“But we must wait. They are not releasing her.”

“Stop saying
that!” Maggie put her arms around her husband. “Does this mean they have some kind
of proof of her involvement? Is that possible?” Maggie looked up at Laurent as
if expecting an answer and he shrugged.

Grace unwound her
long legs from underneath her and stretched her back. She crossed her ankles.
“I guess the ex-girlfriend or the ex-wife always tops the list of suspects.
Makes sense.”

“But he was alone
when he died,” Maggie said, pulling out of Laurent’s arms and addressing Grace.
“How can it be murder when he was all alone?” She looked at Laurent as if a new
thought had just come to her. “Maybe the daughter did it. Julia said she was a
bitch and didn’t get along with her father.
And
she found the body. Isn’t that like a classic rule of thumb? The person who
finds the body is most likely the killer?”

“I have never
heard of this rule,” Laurent said, frowning. She saw him scanning the furniture
in the living room for the glass of wine he had set down.

“Yes, I’ve heard
of it,” Grace said, nodding. “First the spouse and then the person who found
the body. It’s a classic formula.”

“It’s true,
right?” Maggie said.

“Yeah, except for
one thing,” Grace said, picking up her own wineglass. “They arrested her for
murder
, not took her in for questioning,
so they must know something.”

“I can’t believe
this is happening,” Maggie said. “I was going to introduce you two today.”

“Oh, well.”

“Maggie?” Laurent
stepped back into the room and held up his car keys. I am going into the
village, yes? You are alright here with Grace?”

Maggie nodded.
“Fine, Laurent. If they call you—”

“I will go
immediately. You are not to worry now, yes?”

“Okay.” Maggie
forced herself to smile at her husband. She knew he hated to see her stressed,
especially this late in the pregnancy. When she heard the front door shut, she
turned to Grace. “We need to do something.”

Grace raised her
eyebrows. “You mean like organize a jailbreak?”

Maggie sat down
on the sofa and began pulling at the hem of her tunic. She stood up again in
agitation. “I don’t know what I mean,” she admitted. “I just can’t stand this,
knowing that she’s down there. Damn that Roger!”

“Roger Bedard?”
Grace’s eyebrows arched up. “
Your
Roger Bedard?”

“Oh, stop it,
Grace. I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

“Did he know
about…” Grace gestured to Maggie’s very prominent baby bump.

“No reason why he
should. We don’t run in the same circles. I mean, I knew he was transferred to
Aix only because Laurent heard it and passed it on to me.”

“Darling Laurent.
So civilized about the men in love with his wife. I suppose it’s the French in
him.”

“Stop it, Grace.
If you want to know, he’s not at all civilized about it but he knows he never
had anything to worry about—”

“Never? Careful
about the history you attempt to rewrite, darling,” Grace said with a sly
smile. “I was here at the time, remember?”

“Okay,
one
kiss. That’s nothing to get derailed
over.”

“Does Laurent
know about the one kiss?”

Maggie looked at
her with exasperation. “Why are we talking about this? It’s all water under the
bridge. I’m practically ready to deliver Laurent’s baby. There was clearly no
harm done and all parties have retreated safely to their respective corners.
And I would greatly appreciate it, Grace, if you forgot about the stupid kiss.”

“Consider it
forgotten,” Grace said with a shrug. But her eyes met Maggie’s and said
otherwise.

As uncomfortable
as this whole line of conversation made Maggie feel—especially with Roger
showing up again in her life—she had to admit it was the first time since
Grace had arrived that she had behaved in her old confident manner and Maggie
hated to totally quash her teasing.

“He wasn’t
expecting to see me,” Maggie said as she reseated herself. “And all this…” She
gestured to her stomach. “God, Grace, he looked…hurt.”

“Which isn’t
rational, right, sweetie?” Grace said, helpfully. “Whatever he felt for you or
hoped to get from you was at least
mostly
all in his own mind, right?”

Maggie nodded.
“Laurent and I have been getting along so well lately.”

“I should hope
so.”

Maggie narrowed
her eyes at her. “Not just because of the pregnancy, Grace. Ever since I got
back from Paris and got involved with the book I’m writing, I’ve been able to
see the things I was doing to sabotage my marriage.”

“That’s handy.”

“Why are you
being so glib?” Maggie’s face flushed with annoyance. “How I was treating him
wasn’t
easy to see and it
wasn’t
easy to stop doing either. You
act like I’m some kind of one-dimensional sitcom character. Did I not
tell
you how close Laurent and I came to
tossing in the towel?”

“You did,” Grace
said, taking a sip from her wine, her eyes never leaving Maggie’s.

“Then how can you
be so flip? It was literally the scariest thing I’ve ever gone through.”

    
“I’m sorry, Maggie. But
like you said, you and Laurent had serious issues and I guess I’m just not
buying into the whole
I solved it and
everything’s perfect now
scenario. Or do you honestly think having a baby
will fix all that’s wrong with your marriage?”

    
“What?!” Maggie
sputtered.
 

    
“Look, I’m sorry,
Maggie,” Grace said hurriedly. “I just don’t want you to think children will
make a difference—except maybe to make everything worse. That’s the truth
of it and I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear it.”

    
Maggie took a long,
steadying breath, trying to stay calm. She smoothed her tunic down over her
tummy and forced herself to reach out for Grace’s hand. “It isn’t the baby
that’s changed things, Grace,” she said firmly. “As I was trying to tell you,
I
changed the way I looked at living
here in St-Buvard—in
France
—and
that
made everything else better.”