Free Macaron Murder (with Recipes) (A Patisserie Mystery) by Harper Lin

out of respect. Sure, she felt bad that his family was screwed up, but there was nothing she could do or say.  

    When they turned the corner and walked back to the tower, Arthur turned to her.

    “Now tell me about the desserts you’re making at Damour .”  

CHAPTER 13
    Clémence was surprised to find herself enjoying a walk with someone whom she had suspected to be a murderer only an hour ago. Arthur was actually sweet and incredibly bright, despite his sardonic and snide humor found in many Parisian men. He wasn’t the spoiled playboy who mooched off his parents’ wealth. Well, he was some of that, but he was more vulnerable than he let on. She supposed that was how men worked. How people worked. The more vulnerable they were, the tougher they acted.  

    Clémence found herself suppressing the urge to give Arthur a hug by the time they reached the tower again. Maybe it was the last pink glimpse of the sun. Maybe it was the tinkling chatter of the picnickers. Maybe it was la tour, the symbol of romance around the world standing over them. She felt a bit light headed—intoxicated—by it all that she panicked.  

    She looked at her watch.

    “I have to go,” she said. “I’m late.”  

    They were walking back home together, but Clémence tugged Miffy away from Arthur’s Jack Russell. She didn’t know whether to give Arthur bisous goodbye. Were they friends now after their intimate conversation? She didn’t know, but she hadn’t been lying when she said that she was late. A simple American wave sufficed, and Arthur waved back, a hand up like a white flag, and his face melancholy in the evening darkness.

    Berenice, Celine and Rose were waiting for her at Métro Oberkampf in the 11 th arrondissement. Clémence dropped Miffy off at home and gave him a treat. She quickly changed into something more chic—houndstooth cigarette pants, a black v-neck tee, a black leather jacket, and blue velvet ballet flats—and scurried out again.

    When she was on a train, she texted her friends to say that she was running around ten minutes late. She would meet them at the bar if they could just save her a seat. Then she calmed down a bit. A seat became available and she sat down and thought about the events of the day.  

    So Monsieur Dubois was having an affair with Lara. La gardienne knew about the affair and told the dentist, who told her. So what was la gardienne doing with that information that made Lara so upset the night she was murdered?  

    Perhaps la gardienne had threatened to expose them. Paris was one of the most expensive cities in the world. Lara probably lived in her little apartment on the cheap and if she was cast out, she would have a hard time finding affordable housing in Paris.  

    Or what about Dubois? He might risk losing his wife, his family, and his money from a divorce.  

    La gardienne had been saving up some money to escape, hadn’t she? So she could’ve blackmailed Dubois for her nest egg.  

    And the wooden button was from a man’s jacket. It seemed likely that Dubois, Sr was the type to wear a Burberry jacket. Clémence had never met the guy however.  

    When she changed Métro lines, she called her mother’s cell phone.

    “Hello dear, we’re having dim sum in Hong Kong!”  

    Her mother sounded like she was having the time of her life.

    “It’s on the twentieth floor of a building here on Hong Kong Island and we can see the mountains and the city. It’s incredibly romantic.”  

    Her father cut in.  

    “Clémence? Is that you chérie?”  

    “Hi Dad. I’ve missed you.”  

    “Wish you were here too. The pork buns we’re eating are absolutely delectable. Although it was hell deciphering the menu. I don’t read Chinese! Luckily the waiter was able to translate.”

    Clémence was happy to hear updates about her parents’ travels. The Damour patisserie and tea salon in Hong Kong would open in two weeks and they were prepping for their grand opening. On their