Harper Lin - Patisserie 06 - Crème Brûlée Murder by Harper Lin Page A

and knew a lot about wine and gastronomy so I told him he could serve—I would handle the cash and the end of the shift, and I’d paid him in cash. I was really grateful because he did his job with more efficiency than Anton.”  

    “He’s probably the one who poisoned my wine with ground peanuts,” Clémence said.  

    The bartender’s eyes widened at the accusation. “What?”

    “Yes. I went to the hospital because I had a peanut allergy, and we think he was the person who wanted me dead.”  

    “But why?”  

    “That’s what we’re trying to find out. We don’t know who he is, either, but I bet he offered to work for you just for the opportunity to poison me. What other information do you have about him?”  

    “He gave me his phone number, in case I ever need his help in an emergency again,” the bartender said. “I actually offered him a job, but he said he was already working at the moment, and I assumed he meant in another restaurant.” He gave them the number from his contact book.  

    “Check this number out,” Cyril said to one of his officers, who left the bar to work on it immediately.  

    “I doubt it’s a real number,” Arthur said.

    “I agree,” Clémence said. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to use a traceable number, at least.”  

    “What did he look like?” Arthur asked her.

    “Tall. I remember he loomed over me,” Clémence said. “I hardly paid attention to him, although I looked up at him once. He was probably in his early thirties. His face was quite forgettable: dark hair, dark eyes, a hint of stubble, average features.”  

    “Yes,” the bartender agreed. “He had a very quiet demeanor. He had been drinking at the bar by himself, just observing, before he offered to work. I rarely paid any attention to him before he spoke up. He was the type to blend in with the walls.”  

    “But there was something familiar about him,” Clémence said. “I’d seen him before. But I can’t seem to put my finger on it.”  

    ***

    Arthur had already hired two bodyguards from a company that came recommended by his mother. They worked in rotating shifts throughout the day. The first bodyguard, Michel, was currently guarding outside their apartment door.  

    The presence of a bodyguard gave Arthur peace of mind when they were home. Clémence wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet. Having a hulking man following her around to babysit her was going to be a nuisance, but what choice did she have, if she wanted to stay alive until she caught the guy who’d tried to kill her?

    In the salon, Clémence wasn’t in the mood to drink wine to unwind, as they often did at the end of the day. She stuck to tea, and Arthur drank a café . She’d had enough wine for the day.

    “Where have I seen this waiter before?” Clémence closed her eyes. She’d been asking herself the same question all evening, to no avail. Miffy, her fluffy white dog, jumped up into her lap. Clémence stroked her back, still pondering.

    Her cell phone rang. It was Inspector Cyril St. Clair.  

    “I tracked down the waiter, Anton, who missed his shift,” he said. “Apparently, he was mugged and knocked unconscious in an alley. That’s why he didn’t show up for work for the lunch shift.”  

    “I bet he was beat up by the same guy who was posing as my waiter,” Clémence said.

    “He’s still out there,” Cyril warned. He hung up before he really started sounding like he cared for her safety.

    So this guy had it all planned out. He had chosen the place to meet Clémence, and he had gone out of his way to attack an innocent waiter of the place in order to step in his shoes.

    Why was he so familiar to her? Had she met him somewhere before at a social event? At a party? Or perhaps he really was a waiter?  

    A waiter…

    A possibility hit her. She retrieved her laptop from her room and popped in the DVD of the security footage from her birthday party that Ralph had given her.