“I spent a lot of time with Armand over the four years I worked with him,” Amelie said. “I never once saw any artwork or antiquities in his flat in Paris or in his restaurant. And he never mentioned owning any. As far as I could tell from the stories he shared about his parents’ escape from Paris and subsequent return, they had very little and had to start over. You’d think that if they’d managed to get artwork out of Paris, they might’ve sold it at some point.”
“Maybe they did.” Remy’s brow wrinkled. “Schulz might be tracing back through their journey to find who they sold it to.”
“That could be a challenge,” Maurice said, “without knowing what the artwork or antiques were, and the people who sold and bought the item or items aren’t around to ask.”
“That’s why we’re lucky having access to a computer genius like Swede,” Remy said with a grin. “If there’s information out there, he’ll find it. I suspect there are some records, especially if Schulz knew enough to chase down Armand Benoît’s son to see if he knew anything about family treasures.”
A chill slithered down the back of Amelie’s neck. “Do you think the break-in here at my bakery had anything to do with whatever it is Fredrick Schulz is looking for?”
Remy frowned. “Good question.”
Maurice’s eyes narrowed. “You did spend more time with Armand Benoît than his own son. If Schulz was able to find Luis in California, he could’ve stumbled across the fact you were close to Armand?—”
“—and came to Bayou Mambaloa to search my bakery?” Amelie shook her head. It sounded too bizarre.
“You said yourself, nothing was missing,” Remy reminded her.
“But the vandal destroyed so much. If he was looking for a painting or an antique, why rip everything apart?”
“Unless the item is small…like a pocket watch?” Maurice offered.
Amelie’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you think whoever broke into my bakery might go after Luis because of the pocket watch?”
“I sent the photos I took of the watch to Swede and asked him to see if it was worth anything,” Maurice said. “I also asked him if he could figure out what the numbers mean.”
“Show me the photos,” Remy said.
Maurice pulled out his phone, brought up the pictures and handed the phone to his boss.
After studying the images, Remy shook his head. “No idea. Maybe it’s a combination or code for something.”
“I’d think it’s too many numbers for a combination lock,” Maurice said.
“The number of a bank account?” Remy guessed.
Maurice’s brow dipped. “Maybe. Some European bank account numbers are really long.”
Remy nodded. “If it is a bank account, Swede will figure it out.” He glanced from Maurice to Amelie. “Any other revelations I should be aware of?”
Amelie met Maurice’s gaze. They shook their heads in unison.
Maurice’s mouth quirked at the corners.
That slight upward movement sent warmth flowing through Amelie as if they’d shared a moment. Which was ridiculous.
She turned her attention back to Remy. “I take it the sheriff’s department hasn’t come up with a suspect for the break-in.”
Remy’s lips pressed together. “No. I’m sorry. The latent prints were mostly yours, and there were too many in the front from customers. They suspect that whoever broke in was wearing gloves.”
Maurice snorted. “They should look for a suspect with flour all over those gloves and his shoes.”
“I’ll be sure to remind Shelby, although I’m sure she already knows.” He smiled. “In the meantime, enjoy your pizza. I need to get mine home. I’m sure Shelby’s getting hangry by now. And I have bath duty tonight, which means Jean-Luc and I will both be soaked. That little guy loves playing in the water.”
Maurice and Amelie walked Remy to the back door and let him out, locking the door behind him.
They returned to the pizza, ate quickly and got back to work.
Amelie put Maurice to work measuring flour and buttering bread pans, while she mixed dough, kneaded and shaped it, then set the bread to rise. Once she had the bread dough where she wanted it, she worked on preparing pastries and then cookies. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, Amelie was sagging against the counter, her feet, back and head ached, but she was ready for the next day. Her baked goods were ready, her kitchen was clean and she’d only missed one day of sales.
