Croissants and Corruption: A Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Read online

  Margot cleared her throat and the young man took a step back, his own smile a match to Taylor’s, before he disappeared. It was looking like Margot would have her work cut out for her keeping track of Taylor.

  Once their order was taken, the over-eager water boy visited their table no less than five times in the span of twenty minutes. Margot was about to call Antonio over to have him say something to his server when Taylor bolted up from the table, her napkin falling to the floor in her haste.

  “I’m, uh, going to the bathroom.” She forced a smile at Margot then turned toward the back of the restaurant.

  Margot watched her go, wondering at her odd behavior, then straightened in her seat when she saw the same server trailing behind her niece.

  “It’s just a coincidence,” she said to herself just as Antonio walked up to the table.

  “Is everything bene—good?”

  “Yes. Sì. It is wonderful, as always.” Margot hesitated, then, after one more glance toward the back of the restaurant, turned toward Antonio. “Who’s the server who’s been helping us? Filling our water and such.”

  “Ack.” Antonio rolled his eyes. “He’s a friend of my sister’s kid. Marco Rossario. Word on the street is that he’s bad news, but you know me, mia bella, I’m a…what do they say? Softie? He’s only just started working here—if you call making eyes at every girl under the age of thirty working.”

  Margot glanced at her watch. Taylor had been gone too long.

  “I—um, excuse me for a moment. The washroom?” she asked, pointing to the back.

  Antonio smiled and pointed toward the back where Taylor had disappeared. The thought of Marco being anywhere near Taylor sent a chill down Margot’s spine as she rounded the corner that led toward the bathrooms.

  “Stop it! Seriously!” Margot instantly knew the firm, somewhat high-pitched voice belonging to Taylor.

  But where was she? The hall ended in a door to the men’s bathroom and a door to the left to the women’s. Then there was—the closet!

  “I said I don’t have—”

  Margot yanked open the door to find Taylor pressed up against the side of a utility closet, Marco holding both of her wrists by the side of her head.

  “Hey!” Margot said. “Get away from her!”

  Tears filled Taylor’s eyes and she took Marco’s distracted attention to yank her arms away and shove him against the other side of the wall. In a crash of mops and supplies, he fell backward, not quite catching himself before he fell to the floor.

  Margot could tell that Taylor was shaking from head to toe and she wrapped her arm around the girl, directing her back toward the main restaurant area and the back door. Antonio came toward them, his eyes wide at seeing Taylor’s tear-streaked face.

  “What has happened?” He looked between Taylor and Margot.

  “Marco Rossario attacked my niece.” Margot felt the anger surge up in her at the thought of him taking advantage of Taylor like he had. Taylor had likely gotten herself into the situation with flirtation, but it didn't excuse the fact that he had tried to force himself on her.

  “Shall I call the police?” Antonio looked to Taylor, waiting for her instruction.

  “Just—just forget it. I want to go home.” Taylor wrapped her arms around her middle.

  Antonio looked helplessly to Margot and she nodded. “I think we should leave. Can we take our meal to go?”

  “Of course! I will wrap it up personally. And you are not to worry—I will let Marco go this moment!”

  Without waiting for their confirmation, he left them to get their meals and Margot turned to Taylor. “I’m sorry, honey. Are you going to be all right? Do you want to talk to the police?”

  “Nah.” Taylor pushed hair from her face. “I…I don’t know what was going on. I just want to go back to your place.”

  Margot felt the weight of exhaustion and worry taking over. Taking care of Taylor was going to be a lot more challenging than she’d expected. What was the right thing to do in this situation?

  “Maybe we should call the police.”

  “No.” Taylor met her gaze, eyes fierce. “I seriously just want to go back to your house. I’m so done with today.”

  Worry still pressing in on her, Margot nodded and they made their way to the back where Antonio met them with a large paper sack.

  “Here is your dinner and I added a piece of my famous tiramisu. It will not match up to your confections, mia bella, but I hope it is a sweet ending to a not so sweet day.” He looked worriedly at Taylor then back at Margot, who patted him on the shoulder.

  “Thank you, Antonio. It’s not your fault.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. But he is gone. I have fired him. Please, do come back soon.”

  Margot nodded and the women walked out into the fading evening light. She clicked her key fob and the car beeped back just as a shape emerged from the darkness of the alley behind the restaurant. Taylor gasped and latched on to Margot’s sleeve as Marco’s face became clear to them both.

  “Dude, seriously. Leave me alone!” Taylor said.

  “Hey, I just want the—” he began, but when he got too close, Taylor lunged forward and shoved him away with both hands.

  “Stay. Away!” she screamed.

  Margot was stunned by the action and her scream as much as Marco was, but he caught himself before falling over just as the back door opened. His eyes were wide as they darted to a young couple exciting with a to-go box in hand.

  “Whoa,” Marco said, holding up his hands.

  “I swear, if you don’t get out of here…” Taylor was seething in rage now and Margot placed her hand on the girl’s arm.

  “You need to leave,” Margot said, stepping between her niece and the young man.

  He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something then closed it and ran off behind the alley. Taylor was shaking again and Margot felt her own heart pounding. The couple stared at them wide-eyed, but Margot flashed a fake smile their way.

  They looked between her and where Marco had run off, but Margot didn’t wait for them to say anything. “Come on, honey, let’s go.”

  Once she and Taylor were in the car, she locked it and looked over at the young woman. She was visibly shaken and Margot’s heart broke.

  “Are you all right?”

  Taylor gave a short nod.

  “I think we should call the police.”

  “No!” Taylor looked at Margot with fear and apprehension hiding behind her blue-eyed gaze. “Please. Let’s just go home. I…I want to go to bed.”

  Margot looked at her for another moment before turning on the car. This was not how she’d envisioned her first night with Taylor going, but at least the boy had left them alone and Taylor was safe. But, despite her niece’s protest about calling the police, Margot planned to put in a call the next day to a friend on the force. If nothing else, at least she could give him a heads up that there was a volatile young man on the loose in their small community.

  Chapter 3

  Three o’clock came earlier than normal—or at least it felt that way the next day as Margot unlocked the shop door and flipped on the lights. The scent of Lysol and lemons greeted her and she smiled. Every time Rosie worked, she cleaned as if The Parisian Pâtisserie was a hospital, not a bakery. Then again, clean was better than dirty.

  Dumping her large purse on her desk and flipping the switch to start the coffee, she thought about Taylor, still asleep in her guest bedroom. After the night they’d had, she decided to give the girl a day to adjust to the new time zone as well as living in her small row home. It was a rude awakening to anyone when they started work at a bakery and needed to be ready to go as early as three.

  Besides, the way Taylor had looked when they got back, she wasn’t sure if the girl would be able to sleep at all. It was difficult, having someone in your care. Granted, Taylor was nineteen and an adult, but Margot still felt responsible for her.

  Pushing up her sleeves and turning on her classical
music, she began several projects at once, making sure the dough that needed to rise was set to go ahead of schedule today. She worked diligently and by the time seven o’clock rolled around, she was ready to open her doors.

  The morning crowd didn’t usually show up until eight, thanks to the high percentage of senior citizens living in North Bank, but there was always the chance that someone on their way to work would stop in for breakfast or a cup of coffee or both.

  One look out the front door and she knew she’d have a few minutes to spare. Remembering her promise to herself, she picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts.

  There, resting under the As, was the name she was looking for: Adam Eastwood.

  With the name came a rush of memories. Adam, lead detective on the police force in North Bank, had known her husband Julian back when they’d been on the police force in New York. The connection had only been made after Julian’s death and the new detective who had filled his shoes made a point to come introduce himself to Julian’s widow.

  Even still, it boggled her mind that they had known one another and that Adam was now doing Julian’s previous job, but either way, she saw it as a blessing. They had fallen into an easy friendship and he was a connection—albeit small—to the friends she’d made when Julian was alive.

  Biting her lip, she tapped his number and the phone buzzed to life.

  “Margot?”

  “Hi, Adam.” She took in a breath. Was she really going to do this?

  The memory of the anger and fear on Taylor’s face resurfaced. The young man might be gone from Pane Dolce, but that didn't mean he still couldn’t cause trouble in their small town.

  “Wow. It’s been a while. Uh, what’s up?” Adam’s easygoing tone did nothing to hide his curiosity.

  “I had something I wanted to mention to you. Kind of under the radar.” Was she going about this the right way? Or would Adam think she was taking advantage of their friendship?

  “What’s that? Everything all right?”

  She relayed the incident from the night before ending with, “I didn’t like the look in Marco’s eyes. I just… I don't know. If Julian were alive, he would tell me to follow my gut.” She laughed imagining him saying that to her now. “So I am.”

  Adam’s silence spoke volumes. Did he think she was over stepping? Being a worrywart?

  “Did you say Marco Rossario?” His tone was rock hard, all manner of friendliness gone. It was a tone she’d heard Julian take on before—when he was on a case.

  “Yes,” she said tentatively.

  “Oh, Margot.” His tone sent a shiver coursing down her spine. “Marco Rossario was found dead by the river this morning.”

  The late spring sunlight shone through bright, puffy clouds as Margot rushed down the sidewalk toward the police station. She’d left Rosie in charge of the bakery and, after a phone call to make sure that Taylor was doing all right, she’d set off for the station and a meeting with Adam.

  It had been his idea. A purely informational meeting and one that she’d convinced him to leave Taylor out of, for now, but she had a sneaking suspicion that her niece would need to have a conversation with the detective as well.

  A uniformed officer opened the door for her as he was leaving and nodded. She thought she’d seen him before but he was focused and barely took notice of her. After she checked in at the front desk, she took a seat and waited for Adam.

  The station held all types of memories for her. Of coming to work with Julian for a spouse luncheon. Helping him decide on the perfect photo to hang to the right of his door, one that would always remind him of his home in France. Bringing him lunch when he’d forgotten it on the counter—that had happened more times than she could remember.

  Sighing, she re-crossed her legs and focused her attention out the bright front windows. During those days, she had stayed at home, writing for an online news outlet. It had been fun, mentally invigorating work, but her bakery now was the fulfillment of a lifetime of dreams. If only Julian could have seen The Parisian Pâtisserie.

  “Margot.”

  She turned to see Adam in the doorway. He cut an impressive profile at 6’3” with broad shoulders pulling the sleeves of his suit coat tight. He looked good. She’d always thought him a handsome man.

  “Adam Eastwood. It’s good to see you.”

  He grinned and came forward, giving her a light hug. “You too. Come on back with me. You remember the way.”

  She did. All too well. It was a shame that Julian and Adam had never been able to work together in North Bank. They walked down a dingy hall, the same ugly green color as it had been all those years ago, and he showed her into his office. Since they had rearranged things in the department, it wasn't the same office as Julian’s but it was similar, flooding her with memories.

  “Please, take a seat.”

  She did and folded her hands in her lap. “How are you, Adam?”

  He seemed to allow the momentary distraction from the reason why she was there and shrugged. “Busy. Too busy.”

  “Oh?”

  “Not with anything town-related, exactly. I don’t know if you remember, but my brother is a detective up in D.C. They’ve had some interesting cases recently and, because of my unique background, I’ve been called in to consult on a few. It means making the trip up to the big city almost every weekend—if not more—but it’s interesting work.”

  “I do remember you mentioning Anthony was in D.C. How exciting for you.”

  “Something like that,” he said with a grin. “But it’s taken me away from North Bank a lot and…friends.”

  His gaze held hers and she wondered briefly if he included her in that circle of friends. But the thought of young Marco Rossario dead grounded her again.

  “About Marco,” she said, leaning forward.

  “Right.” Adam shuffled some papers around and then considered her. “So you say your niece got into an argument with him last night at Pane Dolce?”

  Margot recounted what had happened. “I asked her if I should call the police, I even considered it after she turned me down, but she was insistent. She just wanted to go home. I just didn’t like the look in his eye when he came up to her in the parking lot.”

  She thought back. His behavior had been strange. Almost as if he were asking Taylor for something—but how could that be possible? Taylor had only just come to North Bank. It had to be something else.

  “I’ve been down to see Antonio and he shed some light on who Marco is exactly.”

  “A friend of Lorenzo’s, or so I heard,” Margot said.

  “Exactly. I guess Carmela is vising her parents in Italy from now until the end of summer and her son has been staying in her house with Marco. I couldn’t find Lorenzo to question, though.”

  Margot shifted back in her seat, mind going over what she knew of the Bianchi family. “Did Antonio know anything about Marco? I mean, aside from his friendship with his nephew?”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “Why the interest, Margot?”

  She laughed, sending him a smile. “You should know by now that I love a puzzle. Though, the death of a young man is much more than a puzzle of course.”

  Adam nodded. “I remember Julian telling me you liked to poke your nose into his cases.”

  “He did?” Her eyebrows rose at this news. She hadn’t known that her husband had been in contact with Adam after he had moved from New York.

  “We stayed in touch. He had many things to tell me about you.” Adam’s grin made a dimple appear and she felt her stomach clench at what he could mean. “But no. To answer your question, Antonio said he knew next to nothing about the boy. He’d hired him for the main fact that his other busboy had gone home for the summer and he was short a pair of hands.”

  “How…” She grimaced. “How did he die?”

  “We found him at the base of the Miller’s Bridge.”

  Margot’s mind filled in the details of the old bridge
that ran across South Fork, an offshoot of the Potomac River. It was a deep, rocky, and treacherous portion of the river.

  “Are you thinking it was a suicide?”

  “It’s…inconclusive.” He hesitated.

  “Was he…pushed then?” She swallowed, the idea making her feeling nauseous.

  “You know that’s confidential,” Adam said, pulling out another sheet of paper. He eyed her. “But I don’t know that it would hurt to tell you. He was stabbed.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “We don’t have the murder weapon yet, but I’m fairly confident that was his cause of death, not the fall.”

  Margot paled. A murder in North Bank.

  He shrugged and folded the report closed. “I only told you this to assuage your curiosity and because you’re a friend. Don’t you go telling anyone.” He fixed a hard stare on her.

  “I wouldn't.” She raised her hands in defense.

  “I know.” He held her gaze for a moment longer.

  Margot resisted the urge to press him for more details—why, she wasn’t exactly sure. The poor boy’s fate was sad indeed and Adam would do a fine job investigating it. Maybe it was just that old habits died hard. She missed having Julian to talk to about his cases. Mystery books aside, real life was much more unpredictable. Maybe she was more like her late husband than even she realized.

  “Well, thank you, Adam. I won’t take up any more of your time. Besides, I’ve got to get back to Rosie. Who knows what trouble she’ll get herself in.”

  Adam gave her his signature, easy-going smile. “You tell Rosie Mae I said hello.”

  Standing, Margot considered him for a moment. “Come to the bakery some time and you can tell her that yourself.”

  “I just might do that.” She turned but paused at the door when he called out to her. “I’ll need to speak with Taylor too.”

  The words sunk in with a zap of apprehension. “I thought you might.”

  “Can I come by tonight? Maybe she’ll feel more comfortable if we talk at your place.”

  Margot considered this and knew that would be true. Despite the fact she wanted to shelter Taylor from all of this, she knew Adam was just doing his job.