Macaron Murder: A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes, #1
By Harper Lin
3.5/5
()
About this ebook
From 3x USA TODAY Bestselling Author Harper Lin: The 1st book in a Culinary Cozy Mystery Series that take you on a tour of Paris! Includes 5 Special French Macaron Recipes.
French native Clémence Damour returns to Paris to run the family patisserie, a famous franchise known for their delectable gourmet pastries and sweets in Paris and around the world. To get off on the right foot with la gardienne, the caretaker of her apartment building, Clémence gives her a box of their luxury macarons. The next morning however, the half-eaten box of macarons is found near la gardienne's dead body. An incompetent inspector accuses Clémence of being the killer, which prompts her to clear her name and solve the case herself.
Join Clémence and her friends as they solve murder cases, bake macarons and other treats, and fall in love in The City of Lights. Macaron Murder is the first book in a culinary cozy mystery series featuring delicious recipes of French pastries and desserts.
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Reviews for Macaron Murder
21 ratings3 reviews
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I never warmed up to the characters and I think the dialogue is simplestic, unemotional and repetitive. I kept waiting for something exciting to happen but it never did. 101
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Having just returned to Paris, Clemence Damour arrives at her parents' home only to find the gardienne murdered a short time later. It soon becomes apparent that no one liked the woman and that many had motives for wanting her out of the picture. This is a poorly plotted book with flat, undeveloped, and one-dimensional characters. The dialog feels trite. The patisserie element is not woven into the narrative. It happens at the beginning and at the end, but not in the middle. I think I can safely skip any additional books by this author. None of the recipes at the back grabbed me.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Fun fast cozy. I loved the Paris setting, and the French that was spoken. I wish there had been a little more of that. I'm looking forward to the rest of the series.
Book preview
Macaron Murder - Harper Lin
Chapter One
Clémence Damour carried her travel backpack up the exit staircase of Métro Trocadéro. She faced the familiar bustle of the Parisian cafés brimming with locals and tourists alike while lanky waiters in white dress shirts and black vests served them with grim politeness. After spending more than twenty-one hours on a flight from Melbourne then riding the RER B train from Charles de Gaulle Airport, she felt exhausted and more than a little gross. She hadn’t showered in two days and had slept terribly on the plane.
Australia had been her last stop after traveling the world for two years, and now she was back in her hometown of Paris, France. The posh sixteenth arrondissement hadn’t always been her neighborhood. Her parents acquired their luxury three-bedroom apartment on the fifth floor of a Haussmannian building in one of Paris’s most exclusive neighborhoods after she had graduated lycée, the French equivalent of high school. She had actually grown up in a humble house in the suburbs and wasn’t used to the chic ladies in Chanel jackets with their Hermès bags and the dashing men in well-cut Armani suits.
Among the well coiffed and the well dressed now, she felt like a hobo with her unwashed hair, her grubby travel clothes, and her unfashionable backpack. People-watching was a popular Parisian pastime, and she could feel the eyes on her as she walked from the Métro exit to a nearby bench. They didn’t know that she was the heiress to one of the country’s most popular dessert and pastry chains.
It was strange to be back in Paris after all that she’d seen and experienced on her travels. She saw her surroundings with fresh eyes, as the snap-happy tourists would: the beautiful, uniform architecture; the cafés with the tiny tables barely big enough for one person, let alone two; the grand museums of the Palais de Chaillot etched with lines of poetry by Paul Valéry; the trees just beginning to bloom in the onset of spring. But her favorite view was the one directly across from Café du Trocadéro.
Her old friend, the iconic Eiffel Tower, stood strong and confident across the Seine River. Place du Trocadéro had the best viewing platform facing the tower, where ecstatic tourists gathered to pose for photos.
Clémence sat down on the bench to admire the view. Even though she was a French native, she never got tired of staring at her. The tower was female, as La Tour Eiffel used a feminine article. La Tour stood so boldly, with such strength and conviction of her own beauty and power, that Clémence was inspired by her mere presence.
Whenever Clémence used to visit her parents’ apartment, she would sit on the balcony, which also had a great view of La Tour, with a cup of tea. She could easily spend an afternoon staring and meditating as a way of unwinding.
She had really lived in the last two years of her life, but now that she was back, her travels felt like a long distraction from her Parisian life.
She sighed as she looked at her old friend now and spoke to her silently. I’m back. Did you miss me? I guess it was time to come back to reality.
Chapter Two
Clémence strolled to Avenue Kléber, noting and enjoying the beautiful architectural details on each building façade. She was in no hurry as no one was waiting for her at 14 Avenue Kléber except their dog Miffy, who had been left with a neighbor.
When Clémence had left for her travels two years ago, she also moved out of the apartment that she shared with her then-boyfriend Mathieu in Le Marais. Now that she was back, she would stay at her parents’ place. It was near-perfect timing. The week before, the Damours had left for a travel adventure of their own. They would be living in Tokyo for six months and then Hong Kong, as they oversaw the opening of more Damour patisseries and tea salons in each city.
The original Damour patisserie was in the sixteenth arrondissement of Paris, right in the neighborhood where they lived now, which was why they had moved here from the suburbs to begin with. Her parents were both bakers. Her father was French, and her mother was American. They had met and fallen in love while attending a Parisian culinary school for pastry making, and then they went into business together after a shotgun wedding. Damour was how they made their fortune. What started out as a small neighborhood bakery selling classic French desserts with some American and international influences became a hit with the locals. They expanded to two more locations around Paris.
Damour quickly became a franchise. They now had locations around France, such as in Nice and Cannes. There was one in New York and one in London. Their packaged chocolates, candies, tea, and drink mixes were also sold in gourmet supermarkets around the world. The name Damour
had become synonymous with gourmet desserts and treats.
Clémence loved the location in the sixteenth the most. It had started off as a regular patisserie with only a couple of tables because the shop was so small, but word soon spread, and it became so popular and crowded that they had to expand to a bigger location. It included a salon de thé as well, a tea salon where ladies could come for lunch, teenagers could hang out to do their homework, and people on the go could buy their favorite desserts to take home. It was a popular hangout for people of all ages, as the place was modern, clean, and French
enough to be a classic brand but not so posh that people felt uncomfortable passing an afternoon there.
Apart from being her parents’ house sitter and dog sitter for the next year, she would also help oversee the shops, particularly their flagship location in the sixteenth, which was a mere two-minute walk from where she lived. Clémence had gone to art school to be a painter, but she had grown up with a thorough knowledge of baking and desserts thanks to her parents. They were hoping that she would inherit the family business one day, along with her siblings, but she wasn’t sure about making it a full-time career yet. She still had hopes of becoming a great painter someday.
When Clémence got to 14 Avenue Kléber, she saw la gardienne sweeping in the courtyard through the huge iron front door. She knew the code to get in, and she pushed the heavy door open. La gardienne was a stout lady in her late fifties, with mop-like white and gray hair and a bulbous nose.
When she heard Clémence coming in, she turned around and narrowed her eyes at her. Bonjour,
she said roughly. Can I help you?
From the way she scrutinized Clémence, it was as if she thought Clémence was some sort of unsavory vagrant or thief.
Bonjour, madame. Je suis Clémence Damour.
Ah.
A knowing look began to spread in la gardienne’s eyes, but she was still not smiling. I didn’t recognize you.
She gave her another disapproving once-over. It was true that Clémence didn’t look her best, but she didn’t appreciate the blatant rudeness of la gardienne’s critical eye. Clémence couldn’t wait to escape to her home.
La gardienne unlocked the door to her own apartment, which was just beside the front door, and disappeared inside.
She was the caretaker in charge of two buildings. These two buildings connected with another two buildings around a private courtyard. In each of the buildings, one apartment took up the entire floor. There were six floors in each building, plus the top floor that used to be the servants’ quarters.
La gardienne lived on the ground floor, and she was in charge of delivering