Read Online Harper Lin - Patisserie 06 - Crème Brûlée Murder by Harper Lin - Free Book Online
Authors: Harper Lin
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company, can have its toll on you. As far as I know, it wasn’t serious. Sometimes, people need a bit of a boost—you know, to get them through the day? I personally take sleeping pills. He wasn’t really depressed. It doesn’t mean that he was suicidal.”
Clémence nodded.
“And my husband—I’m sorry about his outburst earlier. He’s just as upset.”
“No need to apologize. It’s not an easy time for either of you.”
She stood up. “Come on. Why don’t I give you a tour of the house?”
“I would love a tour.”
They left Madeleine and the Laberg brothers on the couch, chatting over coffee. Madame Laberg showed her the backyard. As Clémence expected, there was the pool Berenice had described to her from the photo spread she saw in Elle Decor . The Mediterranean mosaic tiles, with the juxtaposition of futuristic white lounge chairs and plants cut in the shape of globes, gave the grand backyard an ethereal feel.
“We got a famed Spanish architect to redo the backyard,” Madame Laberg said. “It’s quite something, especially compared to the classical interior of the house.”
“Which style do you prefer?” Clémence asked.
“Honestly, the outside, but my husband is traditional. He doesn’t see the artistry as I do, but then again, he doesn’t like to swim, either.”
They went up the stairs, and she led Clémence into Cesar’s room. It was more than just a bedroom. Double doors opened to a section that was more like an apartment. It was probably half the size of Clémence’s parents’ apartment. It contained a sizeable bathroom, a small salon that doubled as a library, and his bedroom.
“My husband wants to renovate this room right away.” Madame Laberg shook her head. “Expand it into a guest room.”
“He seems especially upset.” Clémence examined the contents of Cesar’s library, which doubled as his office. His work files were still on the table in ominous piles.
“Yes, I think he cares more—a lot more than he lets on,” Madame Laberg said, looking sadly at Cesar’s things. “That’s always been his trouble. He doesn’t know how to express any emotion except anger. Even that he tries to suppress. Personally, I think he feels guilty.”
“How come?”
“He has always put a lot of pressure on his sons, particularly Cesar, because he was the oldest. And Cesar always complied. He was the top of his class, and he moved up the ranks of the company in a short amount of time. Cesar was working long hours, and he was good at it. But was he happy? He never had a say in his future, but he never complained about it. Cesar really wanted to please his father, but my husband is not the kind to dole out compliments easily. My husband works too much. Tonight, I had to go pick him up and drag him out of the office because you and Madeleine were over.”
Clémence nodded. It was understandable that Monsieur Laberg would feel guilty if he felt that his actions had drove his son to suicide. He might have felt he’d pushed his son over the edge. But was Madame Laberg right? Had it been murder?
“Did Cesar have any enemies?”
“Enemies? Well that’s something I’ve been wondering. Honestly, I’m sure there were many senior execs that were jealous and resentful that a young man would soon be their boss. It came with the territory. To think one of them would be responsible for his death…” She sat down, unable to bear the weight of her distress.
“So you really don’t think Cesar could have taken his own life?” Clémence asked.
“Do you think I’m fooling myself?” she asked Clémence weakly. “Maybe I’m in denial, too. I just can’t accept that my son would kill himself, like the way my husband can’t believe that someone would kill him.”
“Did you say you found Cesar’s letter?”
“Yes. I was in his room, and I found it tucked under this pile of files.” She pointed to
Clémence nodded.
“And my husband—I’m sorry about his outburst earlier. He’s just as upset.”
“No need to apologize. It’s not an easy time for either of you.”
She stood up. “Come on. Why don’t I give you a tour of the house?”
“I would love a tour.”
They left Madeleine and the Laberg brothers on the couch, chatting over coffee. Madame Laberg showed her the backyard. As Clémence expected, there was the pool Berenice had described to her from the photo spread she saw in Elle Decor . The Mediterranean mosaic tiles, with the juxtaposition of futuristic white lounge chairs and plants cut in the shape of globes, gave the grand backyard an ethereal feel.
“We got a famed Spanish architect to redo the backyard,” Madame Laberg said. “It’s quite something, especially compared to the classical interior of the house.”
“Which style do you prefer?” Clémence asked.
“Honestly, the outside, but my husband is traditional. He doesn’t see the artistry as I do, but then again, he doesn’t like to swim, either.”
They went up the stairs, and she led Clémence into Cesar’s room. It was more than just a bedroom. Double doors opened to a section that was more like an apartment. It was probably half the size of Clémence’s parents’ apartment. It contained a sizeable bathroom, a small salon that doubled as a library, and his bedroom.
“My husband wants to renovate this room right away.” Madame Laberg shook her head. “Expand it into a guest room.”
“He seems especially upset.” Clémence examined the contents of Cesar’s library, which doubled as his office. His work files were still on the table in ominous piles.
“Yes, I think he cares more—a lot more than he lets on,” Madame Laberg said, looking sadly at Cesar’s things. “That’s always been his trouble. He doesn’t know how to express any emotion except anger. Even that he tries to suppress. Personally, I think he feels guilty.”
“How come?”
“He has always put a lot of pressure on his sons, particularly Cesar, because he was the oldest. And Cesar always complied. He was the top of his class, and he moved up the ranks of the company in a short amount of time. Cesar was working long hours, and he was good at it. But was he happy? He never had a say in his future, but he never complained about it. Cesar really wanted to please his father, but my husband is not the kind to dole out compliments easily. My husband works too much. Tonight, I had to go pick him up and drag him out of the office because you and Madeleine were over.”
Clémence nodded. It was understandable that Monsieur Laberg would feel guilty if he felt that his actions had drove his son to suicide. He might have felt he’d pushed his son over the edge. But was Madame Laberg right? Had it been murder?
“Did Cesar have any enemies?”
“Enemies? Well that’s something I’ve been wondering. Honestly, I’m sure there were many senior execs that were jealous and resentful that a young man would soon be their boss. It came with the territory. To think one of them would be responsible for his death…” She sat down, unable to bear the weight of her distress.
“So you really don’t think Cesar could have taken his own life?” Clémence asked.
“Do you think I’m fooling myself?” she asked Clémence weakly. “Maybe I’m in denial, too. I just can’t accept that my son would kill himself, like the way my husband can’t believe that someone would kill him.”
“Did you say you found Cesar’s letter?”
“Yes. I was in his room, and I found it tucked under this pile of files.” She pointed to
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