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

 

    “Arthur, come look at this.” She played through the footage, fast-forwarding to the bits where the waiter came into view.  

    The cater waiter who served Cesar the crème brûlée was also lanky, with dark hair and a nondescript face. She couldn’t see his face for the most part, but she kept watching the tapes carefully for a moment when she could. Then she got it: a split second when he glanced up at the chandelier, squinting.

    “Is it him?” Arthur asked.  

    “Yes, it’s him!” Clémence took a screenshot of his fuzzy black-and-white face. “That’s how I recognized him. I don’t know him at all, but he was one of the waiters hired for my party. He’s our guy.”  

Chapter 15
    Clémence had sent Cyril the freeze-frame of the cater waiter. Although the photo wasn’t crystal clear, at least it gave a clear outline of his facial features, and they didn’t have to rely on a police sketch. In the black-and-white footage, the waiter’s cheekbones looked cavernous, giving him a sinister effect that she haven’t noticed in real life. She had shuddered when the picture came out, blown up, from her printer.

    And to think she had liked the waiter, too, and she even shared a laugh with him.  

    Her second bodyguard, Guy, accompanied her to work that morning. Guy and Michel had both followed her request to look less like bodyguards, so Guy was wearing a simple blue polo shirt and faded jeans. The shift was an easy one—all he had to do was sit in a corner of the Damour salon de thé , sipping cafés . Clémence still thought having a bodyguard during the day was silly, but she didn’t argue with Arthur, who had to work and felt guilty for not being at her side to protect her during the day.

    The first thing she did when she came in was see Carolyn, the manager, in her office.

    “Clémence, bonjour .” Carolyn greeted her with bisous . “Are you okay? I heard you had an allergic reaction yesterday.”

    Clémence had asked her coworkers not to make a big deal of her incident. “I’m fine. I wanted to ask you, did you get the invoice from the catering company hired to work at my birthday party? Did you already pay them?”  

    “As a matter of fact, I did get it, and I was going to mail out the check later today.”  

    “Thanks, Carolyn. Actually, I want to deliver the check in person. I want to speak to the boss.”  

    “Sure.” Carolyn looked into her “outgoing” tray on her desk and took out an envelope. “Here’s the check.”  

    “Who’s the owner, again?” Clémence asked. “I met her at the party. Was it Pierrette something?”  

    “Pierrette Manteau.”

    “Right. Thanks. I’m off.”  

    ***

    The catering company was in the 14th arrondissement, and they typically catered French cuisine for special events. Clémence had only hired them for the waitstaff, since her chefs and bakers at Damour had already provided the food.  

    She got off the Métro at Denfert-Rochereau with her bodyguard, Guy. They walked past the wraparound lineup for the Paris Catacombs, which she had visited when she was a teenager for a date with her first boyfriend. She hadn’t found it as fascinating as her boyfriend had, however. The dead skulls lining the walls of the underground tunnels killed any romance that had been on her mind that day. She hadn’t returned since.

    Arthur had expressed interest in going, because he’d lived in Paris all of his life and he’d never been, but they never had the chance to because the line was usually an hour long. Perhaps they’d go in the off season, like in the late fall or winter.

    As she followed the address of the catering company on the map on her smartphone, she and Guy found themselves in a secluded alley. She had to admit, good thing she had a bodyguard to accompany her to such places.  

    When she reached the right number, there was only an inconspicuous sign above a red door to advertise the place. All the windows were tinted. There was