Harper Lin - Patisserie 07 - Madeleine Murder by Harper Lin Read Free Book Online

talk to the concierge.” Clémence got up from her stool.
    They explained the situation to a young man behind the front desk with a name tag that said “Julien.” At the sight of Sophie, his eyes widened. Since Sophie was more or less famous, he must’ve recognized her or found her to be beautiful, which she was.
    “Sorry,” Julien said bashfully. “I’m not allowed to let anyone in anyone else’s suite.” 
    “Please,” Sophie pleaded. Her sweet face made Julien go soft. “It’s a matter of life and death. My friend is missing, and she could be in trouble. Surely you’d want to help if she’s in danger, wouldn’t you? We just want to check her room to see if she’s in there. We don’t even have to go in. You can check for us.” 
    “Well…” Julien looked between Sophie and Clémence’s hopeful faces. He loosened up, seeming to make up his mind. “I do have access to the room. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to quickly check.” 
    “Thank you,” Sophie breathed. “You’re doing the right thing.”
    With the lovely lady’s encouragement, Julien’s chest puffed out like a cock’s. He went into the back room and then emerged with a swipe card. 
    The three of them took the elevator up to the third floor. Before door 305, Julien knocked.
    “ Madame? ” he called. “Anybody there?” As expected, there was no answer. After knocking some more and receiving silence as a response, Julien swiped the card and pushed the door open. 
    He took a few steps inside. Then he let out a huge gasp, staggering back out into the hall.
    “What is it?” Clémence asked.
    Julien pointed. His lips shook, and he was unable to speak. 
    Clémence braced herself and walked in. She saw the source of his distress: Rachel’s body was swinging from a chandelier. A brown leather belt was looped around her neck, and the skin of her face and body had turned gray-blue.
    “ Mon dieu! ” Sophie said behind Clémence. “Call the police!” 

Chapter 8
    “Are you okay, chérie ?” Arthur asked when he returned home late from work. 
    He put his laptop bag on a side table in the living room and entered the salon, where Clémence was sitting on the couch, clutching a glass of red wine and staring into space. In front of her on the glass coffee table was her notebook full of her scribbled writing. She was so deep in her thoughts that it took a while for her to register Arthur’s presence.
    “What?” she asked after a long delay.
    He glanced at the half-empty bottle of wine next to the notebook on the table and raised his eyebrows in concern.
    “Did something happen today?” 
    Clémence blinked back. His warm brown eyes anchored her back to reality. “It was awful. Rachel, the girl I told you about? Nicole Blake’s assistant? She’s dead.” 
    His jaw dropped. “What? Didn’t you just meet her yesterday?” 
    She slowly nodded. “I was supposed to meet her again today. She hanged herself. We found her body in her hotel room.”  
    She relayed the day’s events, how Rachel had been M.I.A. until they convinced a hotel clerk to check her room, and how her body had been swinging from a chandelier.
    “That must’ve been one sturdy chandelier,” Arthur remarked.
    Clémence looked up at their own crystal chandelier dangling over their heads in the salon. Everything was more fragile in Haussmanian buildings, and she was sure it wouldn’t have been able to withstand the weight if anyone tried to hang themselves on her chandelier.
    “But it’s the Athena Hotel,” Clémence said. “They completely renovated five years ago, gutted the place and put in modern appliances, new piping, and walls that were thick enough that you wouldn’t hear the other guests. That chandelier was probably screwed in with industrial strength.” 
    “True. So do you think Rachel committed suicide?” 
    “Well, the police are ruling it as a suicide. Her smartphone was on the coffee table, and she’d opened a notepad app and typed in,