Read Online Murder in Aix (The Maggie Newberry Mystery Series Book 5) by Susan Kiernan-Lewis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Kiernan-Lewis
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you there?”
“Yes, Michelle,” Annette
whispered, turning on the water in the sink to cover her voice. “I am here.
What did the police say?”
A sound of
impatience and disgust came over the phone connection. “It was as you said,”
Michelle said. “They took my statement and released me. It was nothing. Who did
you talk to?”
Annette sighed
heavily and sat down on the closed toilet. She noticed her hands were shaking.
“It doesn’t matter. A friend.”
“A very good friend, Maman ,” Michelle said, her voice heavy with sarcasm, “to allow me
to walk free this morning with not even a fine after I admitted to destroying
the English whore’s apartment.”
“You admitted
it?” Annette gasped, a hand flying to her throat. The stupid girl! Was she trying to end up in jail?
“Why not? It was
clear that I had an angel looking out for me. The police are so stupid.”
“Michelle, be
quiet!” Annette was on her feet in her agitation. The sudden appearance of her
reflection in the mirror made her jerk her head in that direction. Not a good
move. The woman looking back at her was haggard and wan, worn and old . She turned her head away. “Even my connections
have limits. As do I! Why did you do such a crazy thing?” As soon as the words
were out of her mouth, Annette regretted them. Her daughter was very sensitive
to certain labels.
“Really, Maman ? You think it insane to punish the
woman who ruined your life? Ruined our lives? I am only sorry it wasn’t the putain’s face I was smashing with the axe.”
“She is paying,
Michelle,” Annette said. “She will pay—with her life. That is enough.”
Her daughter
laughed, and the sound made Annette’s skin tingle and creep. She had heard that
sound before. That terrible sound, before terrible things…happened.
“It is never
enough, Maman . You of all people
should know that.”
Chapter
Seven
The cellule de prison where Julia was being
held was like any detainment center at any police facility in a midsize city.
Located at the top of the Palais de
Justice on Rue Mejanes was an ugly five-story building built in the last
twenty years. The set of four minimum security holding cells looked as bleak
and basic as Maggie would have imagined they’d be. Roger had handed her off
with a brief handshake to a uniformed officer, who had her empty her pockets
and took her purse after itemizing its contents. It was just as well that she
hadn’t been able to retrieve any of Julia’s clothes from the
apartment—the idea that she might be able to give Julia anything was
laughable.
The officer
escorted her down a long, irregularly lit hallway that led to a waiting room,
where another officer briefly patted her down and then unlocked the door that
led to the holding cells. With all the locked doors she was walking through, it
was pretty clear that any sort of unauthorized entering—or
exiting—would be impossible. She was taken to a stark, bare room with two
windows—both high up and barred—furnished only with a single metal
table, bolted to the cement floor.
The thought of Julia
having already spent two full days in this place brought tears to Maggie’s eyes
but she brushed them away. She glanced at the two silently malevolent video cameras
that hung in opposite corners of the room. If she felt like crying, it was easy to imagine Julia was going to be
in much worse shape than she’d feared.
When the door
finally unlatched with a jarring clang, Maggie whirled around to face the
entrance. For Julia’s sake, Maggie tried not to cry. But when her friend
entered, Maggie instantly broke into tears.
Julia wore a
baggy orange jumpsuit that made her look smaller and more vulnerable than she
normally did. Her gamin cap of curls was limp and unwashed, and even from across
the room Maggie could see the encroaching line of gray at her part. When Julia saw
her, she covered her face with her hands. Maggie ran to her and pulled her into
her arms,
“Yes, Michelle,” Annette
whispered, turning on the water in the sink to cover her voice. “I am here.
What did the police say?”
A sound of
impatience and disgust came over the phone connection. “It was as you said,”
Michelle said. “They took my statement and released me. It was nothing. Who did
you talk to?”
Annette sighed
heavily and sat down on the closed toilet. She noticed her hands were shaking.
“It doesn’t matter. A friend.”
“A very good friend, Maman ,” Michelle said, her voice heavy with sarcasm, “to allow me
to walk free this morning with not even a fine after I admitted to destroying
the English whore’s apartment.”
“You admitted
it?” Annette gasped, a hand flying to her throat. The stupid girl! Was she trying to end up in jail?
“Why not? It was
clear that I had an angel looking out for me. The police are so stupid.”
“Michelle, be
quiet!” Annette was on her feet in her agitation. The sudden appearance of her
reflection in the mirror made her jerk her head in that direction. Not a good
move. The woman looking back at her was haggard and wan, worn and old . She turned her head away. “Even my connections
have limits. As do I! Why did you do such a crazy thing?” As soon as the words
were out of her mouth, Annette regretted them. Her daughter was very sensitive
to certain labels.
“Really, Maman ? You think it insane to punish the
woman who ruined your life? Ruined our lives? I am only sorry it wasn’t the putain’s face I was smashing with the axe.”
“She is paying,
Michelle,” Annette said. “She will pay—with her life. That is enough.”
Her daughter
laughed, and the sound made Annette’s skin tingle and creep. She had heard that
sound before. That terrible sound, before terrible things…happened.
“It is never
enough, Maman . You of all people
should know that.”
Chapter
Seven
The cellule de prison where Julia was being
held was like any detainment center at any police facility in a midsize city.
Located at the top of the Palais de
Justice on Rue Mejanes was an ugly five-story building built in the last
twenty years. The set of four minimum security holding cells looked as bleak
and basic as Maggie would have imagined they’d be. Roger had handed her off
with a brief handshake to a uniformed officer, who had her empty her pockets
and took her purse after itemizing its contents. It was just as well that she
hadn’t been able to retrieve any of Julia’s clothes from the
apartment—the idea that she might be able to give Julia anything was
laughable.
The officer
escorted her down a long, irregularly lit hallway that led to a waiting room,
where another officer briefly patted her down and then unlocked the door that
led to the holding cells. With all the locked doors she was walking through, it
was pretty clear that any sort of unauthorized entering—or
exiting—would be impossible. She was taken to a stark, bare room with two
windows—both high up and barred—furnished only with a single metal
table, bolted to the cement floor.
The thought of Julia
having already spent two full days in this place brought tears to Maggie’s eyes
but she brushed them away. She glanced at the two silently malevolent video cameras
that hung in opposite corners of the room. If she felt like crying, it was easy to imagine Julia was going to be
in much worse shape than she’d feared.
When the door
finally unlatched with a jarring clang, Maggie whirled around to face the
entrance. For Julia’s sake, Maggie tried not to cry. But when her friend
entered, Maggie instantly broke into tears.
Julia wore a
baggy orange jumpsuit that made her look smaller and more vulnerable than she
normally did. Her gamin cap of curls was limp and unwashed, and even from across
the room Maggie could see the encroaching line of gray at her part. When Julia saw
her, she covered her face with her hands. Maggie ran to her and pulled her into
her arms,
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