y8

1055 Words3 Pages

Clémence was living in her parent’s luxurious apartment in the 16th arrondissement, only steps away from the Damour flagship patisserie at Place de Trocadero. Her parents were away in Asia for months, possibly up to a year, and she was there to dog-sit Miffy and keep tabs on all the stores in Paris to make sure that everything was running smoothly. The apartment took up the entire fifth floor of the building. It had three bedrooms: her parent’s main bedroom and two guest rooms. Clémence had an older brother and sister who lived in other cities, but they had lived in this apartment when they were growing up, but rather a humble house in Romainville, which was why the two rooms weren’t personalized with any of their childhood belongings. Clémence had taken over one of the guest bedrooms—the one connected to the spacious bathroom where she frequently took bubble baths. Her bathroom was her sanitary and it had blue, green and gold tiles that made her feel as if she was on vacation in Morocco. She offered the other guest room to Rose. It was not connected to a bathroom, but it was bigger, with pale blue wallpaper and a faux fireplace. With its tall windows draped with opulent green and pink satin curtains and a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling, Clémence was sure that Rose would be comfortable there. When Clémence got up early Monday morning, Rose was still sleeping. The night before, she had helped Rose call the boss at her PR company to explain why Rose needed to take the week off. As Rose slept, Clémence thought she could make a quick trip to Berenice’s house to pick up Miffy. Miffy was a happy Highland Terrier who would cheer Rose up, at least a little bit. Clémence would’ve asked the Dubois family on the third floor... ... middle of paper ... ...ir.” Clémence answered eagerly, hoping he had the answers they were waiting for. “Brain hemorrhage,” Cyril boomed into the phone. “Due to blunt impact. Pierre Colombier was killed.” Clémence stopped in her tracks so suddenly that Miffy was pulled back by the leash. “What? Mais non!” “Si. I tried calling your friend—what’s her name?—the victim’s girlfriend?” “Rose Viard.” “Right, but she’s not picking up. I have questions. Is she home?” “I suppose,” said Clémence. “She was sleeping the last I checked, but I’m not at my house with her at the moment” “You can tell her the news then.” “Are you sure it was murder?” “I wasn’t the one doing the test,” Cyril said. “Now that you know that it is murder, stay out of my case, all right Damour?” Cyril hung up. “What is it?” Berenice asked. Clémence took a deep breath. “Well, Pierre was murdered after all.”

Open Document