French Weddings Can Kill You Read online

  Flora yanked down her laptop screen and buried her face in a pillow. She yelled.

  Chapter 32

  Room 12: Interview of Alice and Chloé

  A lice kept chewing a piece of strawberry gum while Chloé played with a strand of her long black hair. The two friends were big fans of Élodie Faber and had booked their room in the castle as soon as they had learned the famous couple’s wedding would take place here.

  Amanda and Liliane were tired. They had interviewed a dozen guests already and wanted to question a few more before taking a lunch break.

  “She was soooo classy!” said Chloé, playing with her hair. “I mean, look at her.” She showed her cell phone to Amanda and Liliane and swiped her finger on the screen to scroll through a few pictures of Élodie Faber in various outfits. “I mean, right? She was like… the queen of fashion. My god, I’m so devastated she’s dead.” The young woman sighed.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” continued Alice. “And she was so, so gorgeous! We always wondered why she wanted to marry this old has-been of Paul Dumont. She deserved better.”

  Chloé nodded. “Yeah, much better. I mean, he should marry an old actress his own age, right?”

  Liliane shifted on her chair and hid her irritation by switching legs. Being older than Paul Dumont, the two women in their twenties probably thought she was a dinosaur…

  “All right,” said Amanda, “but what can you tell us about last night. Did you hear or see anything that would be of interest?”

  Alice pinched her lips and looked above. Chloé rolled a larger strand of hair around her finger.

  “Not reaaaally,” said Alice. “I mean… like what?”

  “Like someone acting strangely, or someone saying things that could make you think it could be about the murder,” answered Amanda.

  “Um… Ah, yeah, our neighbor. She’s a weirdo,” said Chloé.

  “Yeah, that’s true!” confirmed Alice. “She’s like, you know, the one with a lot of red hair. Super curly red hair. Plus, she’s short and you know… curvy. Not the sexy kind.” Alice made a face. “And no sense of fashion.”

  Liliane wanted to make Alice swallow her gum, and maybe a whole pack with it, to shut her silly mouth up.

  “How come having red hair, being short, and not being sexy—according to your criteria—makes one suspicious?” asked Amanda.

  “Well, yeah, it doesn’t, really, I guess,” answered Alice. “But we’re just saying the woman is weird. She didn’t say ‘hi’ and avoided looking at us when we saw her in the corridor last night. Rude.”

  Liliane chuckled.

  “You saw that woman in the corridor?” asked Amanda.

  “Yeah,” said Chloé.

  “What time was it?” asked Amanda.

  The young women looked at the ceiling and both said “Uuuuh…” as if they were tuning for a song.

  “We had just come back from smoking a cigarette outside. Let’s say 1 a.m.?” said Chloé.

  Alice turned toward her friend. “Or maybe it was midnight? Or maybe 12:30 a.m.?”

  “Or maybe 2:30 a.m.!” said Chloé. “I don’t remember.”

  Liliane sighed and closed her eyes. She doubted the cigarette the girls had smoked last night was made of tobacco.

  “All right. Let’s say between midnight and 2:30 a.m. Is it correct?” asked Amanda.

  The girls nodded.

  Chloé’s cell phone chimed in a notification. She checked her phone screen.

  “Wow! I mean, wow!” exclaimed Chloé, opening her eyes wide.

  “What is it?” asked Alice who leaned on her friend. “OMG!” she said.

  “Well, if you want to know who killed Élodie, then watch this!” Chloé handed her cell phone to Amanda and played a video. Flora Guardian and Paul Dumont were having a conversation in the veranda. Obviously, it had been filmed yesterday.

  Flora: “Really? You’re going to marry that? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather kill her!”

  Paul: “Then I’d become the star who lost his beautiful young bride, horrendously murdered before their wedding. Who knows, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing? It would get me more publicity and might boost my career?”

  Amanda and Liliane looked at each other.

  “See!” said Alice. “It’s probably this old schmuck and this witch who killed poor Élodie.”

  Liliane pinched her lips and joined her hands. Committing another murder right now wouldn’t help the situation...

  Chapter 33

  T here were tiny crumbs of potato chips all over the undone bed. Clothes and shoes were left on the bed and on the floor. Isabelle wondered how someone could have created such a mess after spending just one night in their room.

  She walked to the bathroom, dreading what she would find there. To her relief, there were only a few hygiene products on the counter and a used towel on the towel rack.

  Isabelle went back to the bedroom and opened the window to air the room of the ‘Salt and Vinegar’ smell that came from the empty potato chip bag on the desk. She put it in the garbage, turned around and stared at the bed for a few seconds. Should she leave the bed like this or should she remove the pile of clothes to make the bed? She decided to remove the clothes to make the bed. She’d rather take the risk of being told by a guest she shouldn’t have moved their belongings than being told by her boss she hadn’t done her job.

  She picked up the clothes one by one and piled them up on a chair. She was surprised to discover under the pile what seemed to be a wedding gown. But not a brand-new one. More the type you’d find in a secondhand clothes shop. Outdated, wrinkled, faded white turned yellowish. Isabelle lifted it, holding it with her fingertips, and extended her arms to have a better look at it. “What the…?” She put the wedding gown on the chair, wondering who could have such bad taste. There was definitely too much lace and froufrou on this cheesy dress. It looked like a puffy meringue.

  Once she removed all the clothes, she found a notebook on the bed. The cover had pink flowers and the inscription My Dear Diary in golden letters. Isabelle put the diary on the desk and kept looking at it. She was intrigued. Who knows, maybe this diary had valuable information that could be helpful in finding the murderer? But no. Going through people’s stuff was not her style. And she wasn’t paid for this. She walked to the bed and stumbled on something. It was a little suitcase. Quite a peculiar one, covered with pictures of Paul Dumont. There was no room left to show what the original color of the suitcase was.

  “Creepy!” said Isabelle. She felt uneasy and stared at the diary again. Should she read it or not?

  Isabelle pondered for a few seconds. Her eyes went from the old wedding gown to the odd suitcase to the pink diary. “Oh, what the heck, it’s too weird.” And she opened the diary. There was a pen on the latest written page. She read it.

  Dear Diary,

  Finally, the fraud is dead, and it feels good. Really good! She deserved it. Now the way is clear for me and Paul. I can marry him. He won’t be sad too long once he realizes a real and honest woman like me, with a true heart, is ready to love him. I think he will be quite impressed by my knowledge of his career. I can quote every line of every one of his movies!

  Ha! She didn’t look so proud anymore, lying like that on the floor. That makeup revealed her true face to the world: ugly.

  I’m so glad her pictures are all over the media now. Those are the last images of you, Élodie Faber. The last images people will remember of you. You were never a star, and you will never be.

  My mother was right. This is what she taught me. Everybody gets what they deserve in life. And I’m so glad this Élodie Faber did.

  Brigitte

  Isabelle stood still for a few seconds in the room, mouth open. She was in shock. She had found the killer!

  Chapter 34

  Room 13: Interview of Brigitte Plansec

  H uh. This woman does have a lot of curly red hair, thought Liliane who was getting so tired she could only come up with si
mplistic observations. She had taken dozens of pages of notes, her wrist hurt, and she was looking forward to the lunch break.

  Brigitte Plansec sat on an armchair in front of Amanda and Liliane. Back straight, arms crossed over her chest, and pouty lips that wouldn’t let a word out. She behaved like a sullen child.

  “Ms. Plansec, I can understand why you’re upset,” said Amanda with a soft voice. “But you have to admit, what you wrote in your diary is quite disturbing.”

  “Your employee had no right reading my diary! That’s private. You should fire this nosy little mutt!” answered Brigitte Plansec. She narrowed her eyes in anger.

  Amanda tried something else. “You seem to be quite a fan of Paul Dumont, aren’t you? And you have quite a suitcase here. It must have taken you some time to do this… art?”

  Brigitte Plansec’s face lit up. She relaxed. “Oh yes! But I love doing this. He’s such a wonderful man, don’t you think? I know all his movies by heart. Have you seen them?”

  Amanda shook her head and Liliane nodded.

  “Well, you should see them!” she told Amanda. “He’s an amazing actor. And he’s so handsome, right?”

  Although Amanda differed on the last statement, she preferred to agree to keep the woman talking. “Yes, you’re right. So, you know everything about him?”

  “Absolutely!” answered Brigitte Plansec, proud to be questioned about the topic she knew best: her idol. “Everything since he started his career. Since his first movie. I know everything about him, and I bet nobody else knows him better than I do.”

  “That’s quite impressive,” said Amanda. “So, if I understand, you collect everything about Paul?”

  “Oh yes! All his interviews published in magazines, I kept them. The interviews he gave on TV too. I recorded them. I have hundreds of magazines and videotapes at home. Every picture from all photo shoots he did, I cut them out to make collages. You should see my home. There are posters of him everywhere. I’m very creative.”

  Liliane forced a smile of fake admiration.

  “I see,” continued Amanda. “So, Paul is a real passion for you?”

  “Oh yes. Paul is the passion of my life,” answered Brigitte Plansec. I can even say—” she hesitated to continue.

  “Yes, Brigitte, what can you say?” encouraged Amanda, hoping Brigitte would keep talking.

  Brigitte Plansec leaned toward Amanda and Liliane and whispered “I can even say he’s the love of my life. We will get married soon.” The woman straightened her back. She had a proud expression on her face and a large smile.

  Liliane did her best to hide her reaction. The poor woman was obviously deranged. Amanda remained prudent. Brigitte was talking, and she wanted her to keep talking.

  “I see,” said Amanda. “And, I guess, this is why you have this… beautiful wedding gown with you?”

  “Yes. Isn’t it lovely?” Brigitte Plansec took the dress out of her suitcase and flattened it with her hands against her body. “I will be beautiful. Do you think Paul will like it?”

  “Uh… sure, probably…” Amanda felt bad to lie to the woman, but she had no choice. “Now, just to be sure. Is Paul aware of this?”

  “Of what?” asked Brigitte Plansec.

  “That, uh… that you will be marrying him,” specified Amanda.

  Liliane was as eager as Amanda to hear the answer.

  Brigitte Plansec moved her head side to side, looking at the ceiling. “Well, yes and no… I mean, he doesn’t yet, but in his heart, he does. The moment he sees me in this dress, he will know I’m the one he has always been waiting for. And this stupid and snobbish strawberry blondish with no talent, he will forget her quickly.”

  Amanda pretended not to understand what Brigitte meant. “Who are you talking about?”

  “That ugly Élodie Faber, of course!” The woman switched back to her angry mood.

  “Yes, right, right…” said Amanda. “You didn’t like her very much. Am I right?”

  “Are you kidding? I hated her!” said Brigitte out loud. Her voice suddenly went back to a normal tone. “She was a very, very mean person, you know. She did a lot of bad things. People think she was nice, but oh, no, no, no! I know she was an awful person. When she started her relationship with Paul, I was furious. I dug up information about her. And, let me tell you, what I found was not pretty-pretty. She might’ve been beautiful on the outside, but she was really ugly on the inside.”

  Liliane frowned and chewed her pen. It was getting more interesting by the second.

  “Ah. And what did you find out about her?” asked Amanda.

  Brigitte Plansec leaned toward Amanda and Liliane again. She whispered in a mysterious tone. “She tortured people.” The woman nodded to reinforce her statement.

  “I’m not sure to follow you, Brigitte,” said Amanda. “Élodie Faber was an actress. She wasn’t known to have done horrible things such as torturing people.” Except she was a real pain in the ass for sure, she thought.

  “Well, get informed. It’s not difficult. There’s a lot of magazines and websites with stories about her. I mean, a lot,” said Brigitte, emphasizing her last words.

  “As you know so much, Brigitte,” continued Amanda, “would you be kind enough to tell us which websites we should search first?”

  “Spread the Word,” answered Brigitte Plansec.

  Amanda and Liliane looked at the woman, puzzled.

  “Pardon me?” said Amanda. “I don’t understand.”

  “Spread the Word!” repeated Brigitte. “That’s the name of a website. The best, in my opinion, if you want real information on celebrities. I’m surprised you don’t know about it. For example, did you know Élodie Faber had a secret relationship with Richard Barquet?” Amanda and Liliane glanced at each other. “He’s an important ‘publicist,’ as they say in this business, for famous actors.” She leaned toward them again and whispered, articulating her words. “He and Faber were doing it together, if you see what I mean. And the man is married. Huh!” Brigitte went back to her straight position. “And she was going to marry my Paul! Dirty sow! She deserved to die.”

  Liliane’s eyes opened wide. She felt cold chills running along her spine. The woman was really crazy. The more she talked, the more she was convinced Brigitte Plansec could commit murder. At least, this murder.

  “Please, Brigitte, be respectful,” said Amanda. “This young woman is dead.” The woman looked away and exhaled in exasperation. Amanda continued. “Well, if this is true, that’s… compelling news”. Amanda made a pause. Now was time to ask the question and see the woman’s reaction. “Brigitte, I understand you hated Élodie Faber so much—”

  Brigitte Plansec cut Amanda. “Oh, I still very much hate her, even if she’s dead!”

  “Yes, well, so… Brigitte, is it possible that, maybe… you killed her?” asked Amanda as carefully as she could.

  “What? No! And we’re back again to these accusations! I didn’t kill anybody!” Infuriated, the woman put her wedding gown back into her suitcase. She was so upset her abrupt moves made her clumsy. She tried to close her suitcase but dropped it open instead. The contents spread all over the floor. Her clothes, her diary and some makeup that came out of an unzipped little pouch. There was a red lipstick, a pink blush powder, and black eye shadow. The woman picked up the items quickly, muttering unintelligible things, and put them back into her suitcase.

  “Brigitte, I’m surprised to see you have makeup in your suitcase,” said Amanda.

  “And why is that?” asked Brigitte Plansec, shrugging.

  “Because you don’t wear any.”

  Chapter 35

  É lodie Faber’s murder was all the castle’s guests talked about at lunchtime in the restaurant’s dining room.

  Everyone had an idea about what had happened and who might be the murderer. Some guests whispered into others’ ears, or sent accusing, shocked or worried glances at others. Most of them checked their cell phones or tablets compulsively to seek more ‘info
rmation’ about the case. Needless to say, most of what they read was just pages filled with suppositions and unverified statements.

  Even the guests who had made it a rule to never use their cell phones during lunchtime broke it. They couldn’t help it. Human nature, which loves to feed on drama, was in action, and the guests were having a feast. Moreover, they happened to be part of this story too, in a way. It gave them somewhat of an important status and a memorable story they looked forward to recounting to their relatives.

  Amanda and Liliane occupied a corner of the oak counter in the kitchen while the staff was bustling about, shaking sizzling pans on the gas stoves, cutting mountains of vegetables and setting plates on the counter ready to be served.

  Through the open door that faced them, offering a view of the dining room, the two friends observed the guests while eating a cheese omelet with a green salad side the chef had prepared for them.

  “Do you think she did it?” asked Liliane, talking about Brigitte Plansec.

  “Hum… Hard to say. The woman has mental issues without a doubt, but I don’t think she did it. She’s as spontaneous as a child and tells the truth when she’s questioned. At least, her truth. When I asked her if she killed Élodie and she answered no, I believed her. This said, it’s the makeup pouch in her suitcase that intrigues me most. The color shades matched the ones Élodie had on her face.”

  “It could very well be her makeup. Women don’t wear makeup every day,” said Liliane.

  “True. Still, it’s a strange coincidence.” Amanda planted her fork in her omelet and brought a piece to her mouth. A thick cheese string stretched from the piece in her plate to the piece on the fork. She rolled the fork several times, but the cheese wouldn’t break. So, she cut it with her knife. The sound coming from the restaurant’s dining room was getting louder. “I’m worried,” said Amanda. “I’m not sure our guests will remain civilized for long. We must find who did this.”

  “I agree,” said Liliane. “I’ve noticed some people have formed groups. They talk about others and have theories about what happened or ‘whodunnit.’ It’s not good.”