Murder in Aix (The Maggie Newberry Mystery Series Book 5) (6 page)

Chapter
Six

Grace pulled the
duvet up to her chin and squeezed her eyes shut. Moments before she’d heard
Zou-zou call for her from the next room, but before she could decide what to do
she heard Laurent’s tread as he came up the stairs and into the child’s room.
She listened to his soft, deep rumble of a voice as he talked to the baby. When
she heard him leave, she knew Zou-zou was in his arms.

She let out the
breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. This was, all of it, so much
harder than she ever imagined. It wasn’t just the overwhelming desire to weep
all the time that she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t even the fact she missed
Windsor—which was a total shock. It was the constant state of indecision
that she hadn’t anticipated. That she, who was always so in control and
confidant, now wanted only to hide under bedcovers and cry was a facet of her
personality she never knew existed.

Her glance
strayed to her cellphone on the side table, attracted by the silent vibration
of an incoming call. She couldn’t help herself. She had to look. She propped up
on one elbow and saw the photo of Windsor on the cellphone screen. She
remembered well the circumstances when she had taken that picture. Before
Zou-zou was born, during one of the peaceful times that they’d found a decent
au pair
for Taylor—one who had been
able to last longer than a month—and, of course, long before Leeza the
twenty-two-year-old intern who had begun work at Windsor’s corporate office had
moved into their world. Grace let the call go to voice mail. She would delete
it later without listening to it.

What in the world was there to say? Was he calling to tell
her Taylor had fallen during PE and cracked her skull? Did he want to know
where she kept the paprika in the pantry? Was he hoping they could move things
along a little more quickly please?
Leeza was probably becoming impatient, and if she knew anything about Windsor
she knew how accommodating he was.

As she pulled the
duvet tighter around her, she could smell the wonderful aromas of Laurent
making breakfast downstairs. She could also hear the sounds of her child making
delighted cooing noises. Uncle Laurent was obviously letting her “help.” As one
particularly happy squeal came from downstairs, Grace clapped her hands over
her ears to block out the noise.

How many more people’s lives did she have to ruin before she
could just go off somewhere and hide for the rest of her life?

    
Maggie poured herself
an
espresso
from the pot on the
counter and sat down next to Zou-zou at the big table in the dining room.

    
“Such a big girl who
doesn’t need a booster chair” Maggie said, handing the baby a dish of sliced
bananas Laurent had prepared. The girl scooped up the contents of the entire
dish and stuffed them all into her mouth.

“Dear God in
heaven,” Maggie said, staring at her.

“I believe she is
to be handfed, Maggie,” Laurent said, frowning as Zou-zou labored through the
chewing of her mouthful of bananas.
 

“Is she starving,
do you think?”

“I have already
fed her scrambled eggs and
brioche au
chocolat
.”

“She’s like one
of those dogs that doesn’t have a mechanism to determine when they’ve had
enough.”

“You just made
that up.”

“Any more of that
brioche
left?”

“
Non
, Mademoiselle Zou-zou is a girl of
large appetites.”

“God, I’ll say.
Oh, Laurent, where did you put the bird? He can’t be near drafts.”

“Why again is it
we have a bird?”

“It’s Julia’s
lovebird. Someone has to take care of him until she gets out. That crazy
Michelle would’ve killed him if I hadn’t come along.”

    
“Ah, yes. And why again
did
you
come along? Indulge me,
ch
é
rie
.”

“Oh, come on,
Laurent. You didn’t think I was just going to sit back and wait for the phone
to ring, did you? I need to do what I can to help.”

    
“And so you found
yourself, eight months pregnant, face-to-face with an axe-wielding crazy woman
in the midst of committing a felony.”

“Is it a felony?
I thought vandalism was a misdemeanor.”

“Not when you
break and enter in order to do it, and please do not distract me from my
point.”

    
Maggie got up and
lumbered over to him where he stood in the kitchen, his hands on his hips, a
dishtowel thrown over one shoulder. She put her arms around his waist. “Please
don’t worry so much about me, Laurent. I’m being very careful, I promise.” She
pulled away and rubbed her stomach, smiling up at him. “We’re
both
being very careful.”

“Well, then will
you wait until I am available to go to the jail to see Julia?”

Maggie hesitated.
“Well, sure, okay. If you think that’s really necessary.”

“I do.”

“Can you go
today? I haven’t seen her since the arrest and I—”

“I cannot go
today.”

“Okay, see, now we’ve
got a problem. Your schedule is not very flexible because of the harvest and I
understand that, I do. But I can’t wait until all the grapes are picked before
I go and see how she’s doing. Maybe Grace can come with me?”

She saw Laurent
glance at Zou-zou, happily shredding a paper napkin.

“Grace is not…”
He looked away and made a noise of frustration. “That would be no better than
you going alone.”

“Well, good. I’m
glad you’re okay with me—”

“
Non
, Maggie, I am not
okay
with you going to the jail alone.
Non
.”

“What the hell,
Laurent? We’ve been over this a million times in the past.”

“And my feelings
have not changed since then!” Laurent glanced at the baby again and forced
himself to lower his voice. “You are very vulnerable right now. You must be
protected.”

“Okay, now that’s
just silly and you know it.”

    
“I do
not
know it. You are
enciente
and it is very
dangereux
where you are going. And also,
of course I know that Bedard is running this case.”

“What does that
have to do with anything? Look at me, Laurent. I’m as big as a house! Do you
seriously think he wants a piece of this?”

Laurent gave her
a look of incredulity and heightened annoyance. “
Bien sûr
,” he said.
Of
course.

“Well, that’s
just nuts. I
have
to go.”

“You do not.”

“I do! She’s my
friend, Laurent. She needs me. And do not even begin to say that
you
need me because that dog won’t hunt
and you know it.”

“I was going to
remind you that you have another friend not twenty feet from where you are
sitting right now who also needs you.”

The energy seemed
to seep out of Maggie. She knew he was right. Grace, for all her big talk, was
in a bad way. She had come to Maggie for support and friendship. Grace did need
her right now.

But Grace wasn’t
sitting in a foreign jail accused of murder.

“I know,” Maggie
said. “And I’m sorry about the timing of all this, but right now Julia’s
situation trumps Grace’s. Can you watch Zou-zou?”

Laurent threw
down his dishrag in frustration and the little girl snapped her head to where
the two of them stood facing each other. It occurred to Maggie that maybe the
child had recently heard more than her fair share of bickering adults and she felt
instantly ashamed. But Laurent was faster than she was and scooped the little
girl up into his arms, prompting an outbreak of giggles as she wrapped her arms
around his neck.

“
Ma petite Z
et
Oncle
Laurent will go
visit Madame Danielle,
n’est ce pas
?”
he said to the child, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks,
Laurent,” Maggie said.

He gave her a
solemn look as he reached for the child’s coat. “We are not finished with this.”
 

    
Finished or not, Maggie
knew she had to hurry to make the luncheon engagement she had set up with none
other than Roger Bedard. Not only had she dodged a bullet by Laurent
not
being able to accompany her today,
which would have been awkward, she had caught another break because he didn’t
need the car either. She felt extremely guilty about the covert luncheon but, honestly,
he drove her to do it. She had to find out what Roger knew about Julia’s case
and she had to see Julia. It was infinitely annoying that Laurent didn’t appear
to understand that, or if he did understand it, didn’t realize how important it
was.

Maggie had to
admit she didn’t love being this large when she met with Roger after all this
time. It wasn’t like he was an ex-boyfriend or anything, but when someone
thinks you’re hot it’s depressing to then present them with dramatic evidence
to the contrary.

I’m being silly,
she thought as she parked the little Renault into one of the few parallel
parking spots off of Rue Mejanes.
What
Roger does or doesn’t think about me is entirely beside the point.
No
wonder Laurent wasn’t comfortable with her seeing him.

Reminding herself
that the French were different and could easily find a pregnant woman every bit
as sexy as a bathing suit model (did she really believe that?), Maggie
reapplied her lipstick in the car then threw her bag over her shoulder and
tottered down the cobblestone street to the café on her too-tall high heels.

He was standing
at the entrance waiting for her, and damn if he didn’t look every bit as
confident and sexy as ever. Maggie felt her heart beat a little faster.
Doesn’t mean I want him,
she reminded
herself.
Just means I’m not blind
.

She smiled when
he saw her and she could see he was struggling to remain cool and unaffected.

He still cares.

He touched her
elbow and leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks. She could smell the mints
covering a light scent of tobacco.

“You are looking
well, Maggie.”
 

“And you, Roger.
Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course. It
has been a long time.” He gestured to the outdoor dining area and Maggie picked
out a table under a large umbrella. It could still be very warm in September,
and afternoon downpours were more and more common these days.

Once they were
seated and had ordered, Maggie asked after Roger’s little girl and how living
in Aix suited him. She could tell by the way he answered her—a faint
smile tugging at his lips all the while—that he knew she was waiting for
the moment when she could talk about why she was really here.

And he wouldn’t
make that easy on her.

“So,” she said
finally, sipping her Perrier. “Why is it you think Julia is involved with
Jacques’s death?”

“Come right out
with it, Maggie,” Bedard said, grinning. “I was wondering how long you could
last.”

“No reason to
play games is there, Roger? We haven’t seen each other in awhile. You’ve been
busy. Big new promotion with the police force. I’ve been busy.” She put both
her hands out to give an unobstructed view of her very pregnant belly. “So why
don’t we get to it?”

Roger watched her
with warm, glittering brown eyes. She noticed they lingered on her
belly—and her breasts—and she couldn’t help but blush darkly.
Damn him.
He would tell her in his own
time, and unfortunately, in his own way.

“Well, Maggie, I
see you have gotten yourself mixed up with the wrong sort again.”

“Really, Roger?
Was
Brigitte
the wrong sort?” It
occurred to her too late that reminding him of the murdered woman who initially
brought them together was probably not the smartest thing to do if she wanted
to keep him malleable and open with her.

He flushed and
straightened in his chair, the relaxed air of insouciance gone.

“This time, your
friend is not a victim,” he said. A decidedly defensive edge had crept into his
tone. “I have laboratory results that prove that.” Roger was well aware that
Maggie knew he hadn’t always been so careful with forensic evidence in the
past.
 

“What kind of
laboratory results?”

“A toxicology
screening.”
 

“He died of something
he ate?” Maggie frowned.
This wasn’t
good. This wasn’t good at all.

“You might say
that.
Agaricus
mushrooms were found
in his stomach. Deadly poisonous. But actually quite flavorful, I’m told.”

Maggie took a
long drink of water. Her stomach cramped painfully.