2 Éclair Murder Read Free

think that’s the only thing keeping that recipe from being a hit.”  

    “You can’t be serious,” Sebastien muttered, but he called up one of the intern bakers to try to find some authentic America ketchup. The intern took a break from slicing vanilla beans in half for their vanilla macaron recipe to go to an American shop in the 7 th arrondissement.  

    “In the meanwhile, let’s work on the shrimp and avocado éclairs,” Clémence said.  

    Berenice came back from her break with a strange look on her face. She was Sebastien’s younger sister, and also a baker. Both Soulier siblings had reddish-brown hair and pale, freckled skin. Sebastien was more serious and secretive, while Berenice was a lot more spirited and chatty.  

    “Hey Clémence,” Berenice said. “There’s a couple of police cars outside the patisserie. Caroline’s talking to the police right now, and they’re causing a commotion with the customers.”  

    Caroline was Damour ’s head manager. Clémence wiped her hands on her apron. She was about to head out the door to see what was going on when Caroline came in with Inspector Cyril St. Clair.

    Clémence groaned.  

    “The feeling is mutual Mademoiselle Damour,” Cyril said.  

    Caroline, who was usually calm and collected, had panic in her eyes. “He says we have to close down the entire place for the day. They want to inspect for poison.”  

    “What?” Clémence exclaimed.  

    “ Qu’est-ce qui se passe? ” Sebastien asked. “What’s going on?”  

    All the chefs and bakers in the kitchen turned to stare at Cyril and his men.  

    “A man was found dead this morning at the Champs de Mars,” Cyril declared. “He died from eating poisoned éclairs from your patisserie.”  

    “Poisoned?” Berenice said.  

    “Yes. That’s right.” Cyril paced the kitchen with his long spidery legs. “One and a half pistachio éclairs from Damour was enough to kill a healthy 43-year-old man. We are shutting down the entire shop to check for traces of poison.”  

    “Tell me you did not announce this loud enough for the customers to hear,” said Clémence.

    “I pulled him to the back before he did,” said Caroline.

    Cyril rolled his eyes. “Did you hear what I said? I need everybody out. My team is going to check every nook and cranny for anything suspicious.”  

    “But you can’t do that,” Clémence implored. “This is ridiculous. We’re not lacing our pastries with poison. Our salon is full, and have you seen the lineup for the patisserie? We can’t shut down now. You have nothing on us.”  

    “It’s for the good of the customers,” Cyril insisted. “We can’t have another one dropping dead from poison, can we now? Everybody out.”  

    The employees looked at each other, then looked to Caroline and Clémence for further instruction.

    “Fine,” Clémence said. “Caroline, please come up with something and inform the customers that we’ll be closed for the morning.”  

    “Not just the morning.” Cyril smiled slyly. “We might need the entire day. Maybe even tomorrow.”  

    “That’s just not right.” Heat rose to Clémence’s cheeks. “First of all you’re wasting your time. And you’re not only wasting our time, but our business as well.”  

    “I’m so sorry that you’ll be losing a few dollars,” said Cyril, “but I think a police investigation is more important than selling a few macarons, don’t you think?”  

    “We have lunch reservations to fulfill, custom orders, and all this food and desserts are going to waste because we only sell them fresh—it’s just not right.”  

    Cyril shrugged. “Police orders. You do know that a murderer is on the loose here? I can’t help that your patisserie happens to play yet another role in a murder. Call it bad luck, but we have to do our job.”  

    Clémence got the urge, again, to smack the inspector silly. But she took a deep breath and turned to her