French Pastry Murder (A Lucy Stone Mystery) by Leslie Meier Page A

questioning.”
    Turning on her heel, she disappeared as quickly as she had come, apparently unwilling to linger for the briefest of chats. There was no singsong “ Bonne nuit, ” no “À bientôt” with a little wave , no “Au revoir” with a smile, no farewell at all, only a firmly closed door.
    “That was some cold shoulder,” said Sue, turning to Rachel. “And you were saying how nice she is.”
    “She was,” insisted Rachel. “But I guess Lucy was right. She doesn’t want to get involved with suspected criminals.”
    They were somber as they climbed the twisting, uneven stairs to the apartment, each one dealing with this setback in their own way. Lucy amused herself by imagining what her friends were thinking: Sue was thinking of pouring herself a glass of wine or three, and Sid was hoping that this interview at the commissariat wouldn’t take very long, because he wanted to visit the Eiffel Tower tomorrow. Bob was searching his mind, looking for legal loopholes, while Rachel was wondering what information she might possibly have that would help in the investigation. Pam was planning to do a calming yoga workout, and Ted was wondering if the International New York Times would be interested in a story about an average American’s encounters with the French justice system. Bill was thinking of ways to level the stairs, while she herself was trying to think of some way she could crack the case and discover who attacked Chef Larry so they could get their passports back and go home on time.
    When her cell phone rang, she grabbed it eagerly, noting the caller was Elizabeth and hoping her daughter had some good news for them. “What’s up?’ she asked, by way of greeting.
    “Well, it’s Sylvie’s birthday and she’s giving a party tonight for herself and you’re all invited.”
    Lucy didn’t understand. At home, a young person wouldn’t dream of inviting members of the older generation to what would surely be a raucous, boozy celebration, one that would probably include a visit to a tattoo parlor. “Really?” she asked.
    “Yeah. I know it seems weird, but she’s quite insistent. She’s been making little treats all day. She calls them petits fours, but I don’t think they’re cake. And she’s got a case of champagne.”
    “Well, I like champagne,” said Lucy in a doubtful tone.
    “I’m afraid she’ll take it out on me if you don’t come,” said Elizabeth. “She can be really bitchy if she doesn’t get her way.”
    “Okay,” said Lucy, thinking there were worse ways of spending an evening than drinking champagne and eating petits fours, whatever they turned out to be. And it would keep her mind off the present situation. “Who else is coming?”
    “Tout le monde. That means everybody she knows,” said Elizabeth.
    “I know what it means,” said Lucy, thinking that maybe she’d pick up some information about Chef Larry. If everybody in Paris was going to be there, surely somebody would know him, right?
    Despite Lucy’s urging, only Pam and Ted were willing to venture out to the party. Sue was cooking up French bread pizzas in the kitchen, Sid was absorbed in a soccer match on TV, Rachel was relaxing with a novel, and Bob was busy with his iPad. So the Stillingses and the Stones made their way to the Métro station, stopping first at the Monoprix to buy a box of fancy chocolates for Sylvie.
    The party was in full swing when they arrived. They could hear music and voices as they climbed the stairs. Sylvie greeted them enthusiastically with double bisous and graciously posed for the birthday photos Ted insisted on taking with his smartphone. Elizabeth shooed some young people off the futon so they could sit down, and before they knew it, they had been given flutes of champagne and plates of assorted canapés.
    Lucy was savoring a stuffed mushroom when she noticed Adil and Malik standing together in a corner, and went over to talk with them. “Lovely party, isn’t it?” she