Murder in Aix (The Maggie Newberry Mystery Series Book 5) by Susan Kiernan-Lewis

shopping
list the next trip she made to Aix, if Laurent didn’t beat her to it.
    “Do you know her
well?” Maggie asked as she navigated the long gravel drive. Several cars were
parked on the grassy perimeter of the drive, pressing down the high grass and
weeds to manageable levels.
    “Oh, yes. We were
in school together. Those boys meant everything to her. Jacques and Florrie. She
never married, herself. They were her life.”
    “Oh, that’s sad,”
Maggie said, her hand unconsciously dropping to her touch her stomach. “Were
they close, do you know?”
    “How many times
Lily has told me of how devoted her nephews are to her. Especially Florrie, who
I think is her favorite.”
    “I only met
Jacques a couple of times, Danielle, but I have to say he didn’t strike me as
the maiden-aunt-visiting type. He was kind of a jerk.”
    “Maggie, I am not
comfortable speaking this way about the recently departed. The poor man is
passed. We should pray for the repose of his soul.”
    “Yeah, sure,”
Maggie said. “Sorry.”
    Maggie parked the
car on the grass at the base of the circular drive. The mas was larger than Domaine
St-Buvard but not as well maintained, although Danielle said Lily had
servants. Maggie let Danielle bring Z while she grabbed the basket of the
obligatory tarts and cookies that Danielle had prepared. She was surprised at
how many people had come to offer their condolences to Jacques’s aunt. Then
again, the woman was quite wealthy.
    The minute they
stepped into the house, Maggie was assailed by the noise of at least fifty
people crowded in the foyer and spilling over into the adjoining dining room
and salon. Jacques may not have been the most popular man in Aix, but his aunt
was clearly loved. Maggie made her way to the food table, where she set out
Danielle’s pies and then returned to her friend to offer to take Z.
    “We are fine,”
Danielle said, holding onto the now squirming baby. “I just want to give my
condolences and then we can leave. I know no one else here.” Danielle clucked Z
under the chin. “We will first just go and find a cookie, yes?”
    Maggie realized
she would need to act fast if she wanted to talk with Lily for more than just a
few seconds. Peering into the salon, she saw what looked like a receiving line
moving in the direction of a large throne-like chair in which sat a beaming
white-haired woman. Whoa. Not looking too
torn up, is she? Maggie edged into the room and plucked a glass of sherry
from the tray of a passing caterer. She didn’t like the idea of asking any
questions so publicly—especially with people waiting behind her in line
to talk to the old lady—but a quick memory of poor Julia’s tear-streaked,
desperate face this afternoon fortified her conviction and she went and stood
in line.
    Looking around
the room, it was clear that whatever fortune Lily had wasn’t being spent on
updating the décor or furnishings of the mas .
The couches and draperies looked worn and in need of mending. The overall
effect was shabby, but still held the essence of elegance. And Lily herself was
pulling off the whole grande dame thing with experience and aplomb. Something about her—the way she held
herself and greeted the minions there to give homage to her—reminded Maggie
of Grace. She felt her stomach twist unpleasantly at the thought. She could not
remember ever having a fight with Grace that had felt even close to anything
like this. This thing that had
happened between them felt divisive and…permanent.
    As soon as she
got close enough to smell the dowager’s perfume, Maggie could see that she was
flanked by family members who were also greeting the mourners in the line. A
man who looked like he could have been Jacques’s brother, and so must be cousin
Florian, sat to the immediate left of Lily. His eyes were red-rimmed and he
held one of his aunt’s hands in his own. To Lily’s right sat none other than
the deceased’s daughter, Michelle, who was in the