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Gestard was dressed in a dark suit and a stylish wool overcoat. “Bonsoir, Margaret.” As if he were greeting a schoolchild.

She stepped back, holding the door wide open. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Gestard stepped into the entryway and held out a bottle of wine—a pricey-looking Chablis grand cru. “This should be a suitable accompaniment,” he said, “assuming your flavors are on point.” There was not a hint of warmth or lightness in his delivery. It sounded very much like a challenge.

Gestard took off his overcoat. Marple hung it on a hook. When she turned back, her housemates had gathered around the entrance. Marple felt like a flustered hostess.

“Chef Luc Gestard, I’d like you to meet my associates—Helene, Auguste, and Brendan.”

Gestard shook hands with Poe and Holmes. Then he gently grasped Grey’s right hand and kissed the air just above her wrist. “Enchanté.”

“Likewise,” said the detective. “Margaret has really enjoyed your course.”

“We all have,” said Poe. “We’ve eaten very well recently.”

Holmes patted his newly rounded belly. “Too well.”

Gestard offered a small nod. Margaret was wondering if a compliment might be coming her way. Something like Margaret has great instincts as a chef. She would have settled for Margaret is a hard worker. But there was nothing. Instead, Gestard glanced up at the rafters. “This place—it reminds me of my chalet in Chamonix.”

At that moment, Virginia appeared from behind the storage room door. “Found it!” She was holding a huge ceramic platter in front of her.

Marple turned toward Gestard. “Chef Gestard, this is our assistant, Virginia.” Virginia’s expression froze. Her fingers twitched. The platter dropped onto the floor, shattering into pieces on the hardwood planks.

Silence.

Gestard attempted to disarm the mishap with a quip. “Was it something I said?”

Virginia turned to Marple. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” said Marple. “We can do without it.”

Grey poked Poe. “Go get the broom!”

There was another knock on the door.

“Oh, good,” said Marple. “Our last guest is here.”

“Allow me…” said Gestard, reaching for the door handle.

“Gladly.”

Gestard pulled. The door swung open.

“Bonsoir, Chef.”

Marple watched for Gestard’s reaction. It was controlled.

“Gabrielle,” he said evenly. “This is a surprise.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said. She stepped past him and handed Marple a small bouquet of flowers.

“Gorgeous,” said Marple. “Let me take your coat.” Underneath, Gabrielle Desan was wearing a short black dress with a beaded bodice, the first time Marple had ever seen her so formal. “Come in, Gabrielle, and meet everybody.” Marple made the round of introductions again. Gestard stood back, sullen and silent.

Desan offered a charming smile to all, then sniffed the air. “That smells delicious, Margaret. Do you need any help in the kitchen?”

Marple smiled. “Absolutely not. No professional assistance allowed.” She put her hand on Desan’s shoulder and nudged her toward the table. “Please, everybody be seated. I just have one last bit to finish up.”

Poe, Holmes, and Grey took their usual places. Desan sat down at the end of the table, as far from the chef as possible. Gestard pulled out a chair and gestured to Virginia. She walked over, back stiff, and lowered herself onto the seat as Gestard slid the chair in. He sat down next to her and put his napkin in his lap.