Back French Pastry Murder
Chapters (24)
  1. Books by Leslie Meier
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Copyright Page

“He didn’t ask about the cooking school?” asked Lucy.

“Oh, sure,” said Pam. “But just basic stuff, again. How did we learn about it? That sort of thing.”

“So do you think we’re off the hook?” asked Sid.

“I asked if we’d be able to leave on the seventeenth,” said Lucy. “He said that was not his concern, whatever that means.”

A glum silence fell on the group, but it was broken when Rachel arrived. Her jacket was unbuttoned, with the ends of the unfastened belt flapping loosely, and her long, dark hair was coming loose from its clip.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sue, who was always quick to pick up on clues from a person’s appearance.

“Lapointe’s been talking to Bob for a long time,” she said, slipping into a chair and squeezing her big purse against her chest. “I’m afraid Bob started mouthing off or something. He was spoiling for a fight when he went in. He doesn’t like the French justice system, he hates feeling powerless, and he can’t believe that all his law school training and experience don’t count here.”

“Well, that’s not illegal,” said Pam. “They can’t charge him with disliking the system.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” said Ted. “They put a big premium on cooperation, and if he seems to be obstructing their investigation, they could hold him.”

“Oh, no!” wailed Rachel. “Can they put him in jail?”

“I don’t know,” said Ted. “I guess it depends on whether or not they think he’s got important information. I could call Richard and ask.”

“What about those international lawyers Norah recommended?” asked Lucy, picturing Bob confined in that dark, dank cell, kept in garde à vue.

“I have their number,” said Rachel, rummaging in her big brown leather bag. “Somewhere.”

“And the embassy guy,” offered Bill, reaching for his wallet. “I’ve got his card.”

Lucy dialed the embassy at the same time Rachel called the lawyers, but neither got much help. Fox Carrington at the embassy said he was sorry, but Americans didn’t have the same rights in France as they did in America, and were expected to abide by French law. If they broke a French law, they could certainly be prosecuted and punished.

“We’re not trying to break the law,” said Lucy. “We just need some help dealing with the system. Don’t you offer some sort of legal aid to distressed American travelers?”

“It depends on the case,” said Carrington. “Give me a call if anything develops.”

“Something has developed. Our friend is being detained by the police,” said Lucy, but Carrington had already ended the call.