Murder in Aix (The Maggie Newberry Mystery Series Book 5) by Susan Kiernan-Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

not.”
    “I said funny.” Maggie smiled at her and
Grace allowed a small one in response.
    “She’s not you,
Grace. Never will be. But she’s a dear friend and just as if something like
this happened to you, I want to move earth and heaven to help her.”
    Grace looked up.
“Aha!”
    “What, aha?”
    “I knew it! You
want to clear her name.”
    Maggie looked
around the room with exasperation. “We don’t even know for sure that’s necessary,”
she said evasively. “They’ll probably release her in the morning.”
    “And if they
don’t?”
    “Okay, yes, if
they don’t, I’m not going to sit here and do nothing.”
    “Well, then,”
Grace said reaching for her wineglass and holding up to toast Maggie, “I guess
Lucy and Ethel are back in the saddle again after all.”
          

 
    Chapter
Five
     
    The farmers’ market in downtown Aix on the Place Richelme sits under the canopy of dozens of plane trees in
full bloom that line the avenue. It has served as an outdoor food market since
the middle ages. Laurent had left home before dawn so he would have the best
pick of everything the market had to offer: peppers, glossy eggplants,
tomatoes, strawberries that tasted like real strawberries, figs, apricots,
peaches, plums, melons, and red currants like little glossy jewels in their
tiny wooden baskets. The first stall he approached sold goat
cheeses—hundreds of different varieties, little wheels of white that
looked like carefully packaged gifts. He’d gotten home late last night, and
still Maggie and Grace were not in bed. Although he worried about Maggie
getting too tired, he was glad to see it. He didn’t know what Grace’s visit
meant—except that it was more than just a visit—but he was glad to
see her as a distraction to the current désastre with
Maggie’s friend, Julia.
    Why do these terrible events always seem
to follow Maggie? What were the odds that a murder would occur—if indeed
that’s what this was—the very day Maggie had lunch with the prime
suspect? Laurent shook his head and paid the goat man for
several packages of good cheese. He moved on to the salami and ham stall, but took
a moment to look around to enjoy his surroundings. At this early hour not every
stall was stocked and ready to go, but beyond the many fruits and vegetables
there were still crate after crate of olives, chocolate, herbs and spices. The
air of the market was redolent with the scent of herbes des Provence and lemons.
         As Laurent
approached a table full of calissons ,
the popular and ubiquitous iced cookie of ground almonds and preserved melons
that Aix is famous for, and that his pregnant femme had a strong partiality for, he noticed someone in the crowd
that he knew. It took him a moment to place him precisely, and when he did he
couldn’t help but wonder if it could really be coincidental that he was running
into the cousin of the murder victim the very next day after the crime.
    “Florian,” Laurent called, shifting his bag of cheese to his other arm in
anticipation of the handshake when the man noticed him.
    However, when Florrie turned to see who’d called his name, Laurent thought
he did the most amazing thing. Instead of acknowledging an acquaintance—for
they were no more than that—and stretching out his hand in greeting, Florrie
dropped his own bag, slapped both hands to his face and burst into tears. So
stunned was Laurent by this reaction, he hurriedly moved to separate the man from
the crowd by pulling him out of the flow of the quickly building sea of
shoppers and tourists.
    “Get control of yourself,” Laurent said, giving Florrie’s arm a firm shake.
“Are you all right?”
    Clearly, Florrie was not alright
and Laurent cursed the fact that he’d seen him at all this morning.
    “I am so sorry, Laurent,” Florrie said, snuffling noisily into his hands
and then his sleeve. “I don’t know what came over me.”
    “Well, you have had a shock,” Laurent said, eyeing him