Macaron Murder (with Recipes) (A Patisserie Mystery) Read Free Page A

 

    “Plus an extra tongue,” said Sebastien. The girls gave him a funny look. “For taste testing. Get your minds out of the gutter. Clémence can help us with our new inventions.”  

    Clémence picked a couple of fresh macarons from a tray and began munching. Miam . It was too good.

    “I have some ideas of my own,” said Clémence. “I’ve spent a good amount of time in Asia. How about an asian inspired line of macarons for this summer? I’m thinking green tea, red bean, lychee.”  

    “ Bon idée ,” said Berenice. “Good idea. Maybe cherry blossom too.”  

    “We can get started right away,” said Clémence. “Tomorrow that is. I’m still not in the headspace.”  

    “Don’t worry,” said Sebastien. “You have plenty of time.”  

    Clémence stifled a yawn. “Suddenly I’m feeling so drowsy. Maybe I should take a nap.”  

    “Maybe you can sleep really early and wake up early,” said Berenice.

    “I’ve never been a morning person,” said Clémence. “But maybe this is a perfect time to start.”  

    Before she left, she got a box of 16 macarons for la gardienne. Her mother had mentioned that she liked the pistachio and chocolate ones the most, so she selected four of them, along with the usual chocolate, vanilla, raspberry, an some Damour inventions, such a cheesecake flavored one, a S’mores macaron, and even an olive oil and mint combo, which tasted better than it sounded.  

    She also got a box for the Dubois family, as they had taken care of Miffy for the past week.

    The macarons were packaged in special collector’s item boxes. She chose a chic zebra patterned one for la gardienne and one patterned with little lipstick kisses for the Dubois family. They each came with a lavender bag with the store’s gold logo.

    She felt a lot better after reconnecting with her staff. Her parents were away, and the staff were the closest thing to family. She did have an aunt and uncle who lived in Montmartre, but they were also away for vacation. May was a month where many Parisians went away due to the various religious holidays. It was why some of the staff were away and the shop wasn’t as bustling as it was normally.

    La gardienne was inside her apartment when Clémence went home. She could hear her TV through the door.  

    “Madame?” Clémence knocked.  

    There was no response and Clémence tried again, knocking harder.

    “ Oui? ” La gardienne opened the door so suddenly that Clémence almost jumped back.

    La gardienne wore a sour expression and the nostrils of her bulbous nose flared.

    “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Clémence said. “I just wanted to thank you for giving me the keys. Maman told me how much you love our macarons.”  

    Clémence handed her the bag. La gardienne’s expression seemed to soften, just a little.  

    “ Merci ,” she said.  

    Clémence could tell that she still wasn’t thrilled about her. She tried not to take it personally as la gardienne apparently didn’t like anyone at all. When she slammed the door shut, a dismissed Clémence went to the third floor.

    A housekeeper opened the door. She showed her into the living room, where Madame Dubois was sitting with a café and a copy of L’Officiel magazine. She was an elegant Brunette in her late fifties with tanned, leathery skin and a thin frame. She wore a navy blue pencil skirt, a pink cardigan and pearls around her neck.

    “Ah, Clémence. Nice to see you again. Would you like something to drink?”  

    They gave each other bisous on the cheeks. Only a few hours back in Paris and she’d kissed more people than she had in the two years she’d spend traveling. She had mostly traveled with American friends, who were accustomed to shaking hands, hugging, or nothing at all.  

    A little white dog, a West Highland terrier, came running up to her. Miffy! She jumped up Clémence’s legs, her tongue out and tail wagging.

    “I’ve missed you too, girl!” Clémence