Murder in Nice Read Online Free

“She did,” he said. “She was found this
morning. She was…unresponsive.”
    Maggie stood up.
“She’s dead ?”
    Laurent tapped Maggie on
the wrist to get her attention. He mouthed qui?
    “ Lanie Morrison,” Maggie
said to him. “The one I went to school with. Ben says she was found
dead this morning.”
    “ And so of course the
remainder of the tour is cancelled,” Ben said on the line. “Haley
and I were hoping we might come to Domaine St-Buvard earlier than
planned.”
    “ Yes, of course,” Maggie
said, trying to process this news. “How did she die?”
    “ I really don’t
know.”
    “ Well, how did you find out
about it?”
    “ Maggie, I’m happy to
answer any questions you have when Haley and I arrive, which, if
it’s all the same to you, will be tomorrow evening.”
    “ Is her mother coming
over?”
    “ Pardon?”
    “ Lanie’s mother. Ann
Morrison. I assume she’s coming to Nice to bring…Lanie
home?”
    “ I don’t know about any of
that. Will you or someone meet us at the train station? And is
Arles the closest one?”
    “ What? Oh, yeah. Arles.
Call us when you’re about an hour out and one of us will be there
with the car.”
    “ Very good.” He hung
up.
    Maggie sat and stared at her phone. “God,
he’s a jerk.”
    “ Lanie died?” Grace asked,
holding Zouzou on her hip, a spoon in one of the child’s chubby
fists.
    “ That’s what he said.”
Maggie shook her head. “She was only thirty-five. How did she die,
I wonder?” She looked at Laurent. “As I understood it from Haley,
this was Lanie’s chance to earn a permanent slot on Bob Randall’s
television show.”
    “ Maybe she had health
issues?” Grace asked.
    “ Maybe.” Maggie looked
around the kitchen. “Can you guys finish up breakfast without
me?”
    “ Why?” Laurent asked,
frowning.
    “ I just want to look at
something on the Internet,” Maggie said as she gave Jem a quick
kiss and hurried into the living room where her laptop was. Booting
up quickly, she typed in the name Ann
Morrison and found the phone number she was
looking for.
     
     
    *****
    If it had been tricky
finding reasons to leave Domaine St-Buvard before Jem was born, it was positively
onerous now, Maggie thought as she accelerated on the A8 heading
toward Nice and the coast. Unlike Laurent, she needed a break from
time to time from the constant monotony of rural life. Having Grace
live with them helped immensely. But even a
glass of wine and your best girlfriend is no substitute for a
weekend shopping trip to Paris , she thought
with a smile.
    Maggie reviewed her conversation yesterday
with Lanie’s mother. Annie Morrison had been distraught, of course,
but her relief was palpable over the phone line when Maggie offered
to meet her at the Nice Côte d’Azur airport. Maggie had never met
Lanie’s father. He and Annie had divorced years ago and he’d long
since passed away. For reasons she couldn’t put her finger on,
Maggie wasn’t surprised to hear that Annie had never remarried.
    It took three hours to
drive to the coast from Domaine St-Buvard, and as Maggie drove she
reran the tapes in her head of her efforts to convince Laurent that
she needed to go. Not surprisingly, he resisted the idea. She knew
he didn’t mind taking care of Jem. That little duty he embraced with
enthusiasm. Maggie was lucky to pry the child out of Laurent’s
arms. Her husband had always begun his day patrolling his
vineyards, only now he did it with Jem tucked in one arm. Thinking
of the image of Laurent and Jem outlined against the horizon this
morning as they returned from their vineyard walk reopened a kernel
of worry in Maggie.
    There was definitely something going on with
the vineyard and with Laurent. Normally, he would return from his
walk with a spring in his step. He used to say it was like visiting
a special lover—you always felt great afterward.
    Maggie shook her head and
grinned in spite of herself. The
French .
    But lately there had been no