Lemon Chiffon Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 8 by Susan Gillard

–”
    “Save it,” Bear said, holding his palm up. “Save it for the cops actually. I ’ ve already called them to arrest you for this little breaking and entering stunt.”
    Dave barked twice. Heather couldn ’ t agree with the dog more. Her insides had gone icy cold at the mention of the cops.
    Ryan had gone pale. He reached out and grabbed her hand, then squeezed.
    “Guess you three should ’ ve kept your noses out of other people ’ s business,” Bear said, with a smirk, and tucked the ring box back into his pocket. “Good luck in prison, I hear it ’ s fun in France.”
    And with that, Bear Trapp strode from the bathroom and out into the hall. The French police streamed in a moment later.

Chapter 14
    Piti Brodoteau peacocked into room 212, twirling his moustache and sniffing at the suspects.
    The suspects were them, of course. Heather and Ryan, standing hand in hand in the center of the room, now, and Amy, hugging Dave to her chest.
    Heather didn ’ t want to think of what would happen to Dave should they be arrested, which it very much seemed like they would be.
    “So.” Piti let the word hover in the air.
    Officers stood around the room, examining ‘evidence ’ and casting angry glances at the three of them. They had broken the law so thoroughly, that it was shattered around their feet, and there wasn ’ t a chance they could avoid stepping on the shards.
    “Detective, I ’ m afraid there ’ s been a misunderstanding,” Ryan said, squeezing Heather ’ s hand, gently. Trying to give her strength in a hopeless situation, no doubt.
    “ Did you break zis room? ” Piti asked, his right eye twitching.
    Heather stared at it. Clearly, the pressure of this case had pushed Brodoteau to the edge of sanity. What was worse, they still didn ’ t have any real indication who ’ d committed the crime.
    “Um, no?” Ryan replied. “ We haven ’ t broken anything.”
    “ No, no, americain stupide. ” Piti massaged his sweaty wrinkles forehead, then flicked his hand out towards Ryan. “Did you break into ze room. Zis room?”
    “Oh,” Ryan replied, “that ’ s affirmative. ” He swallowed and laughed. “I mean, yes, we did break into this room, but it was only to –”
    “Ze details are unimportant. You break the room, you go to jail. Seemple.” Piti rubbed his palms together. “I wait for this since moment I see you two.” He narrowed his eyes at Amy. “ And you, ze champagne pourer. ”
    Heather pursed her lips, heart pounding away. The red bedspread, the white sheets and grand headboard. The lamps and decorations. All of it was a thin façade which covered the nastiness of this situation.
    “Fine, you can arrest Ryan and me, but leave Amy out of this. She didn ’ t break into the room, she just came looking for us afterwards.”
    Piti frowned again, but thankfully he didn ’ t massage his sweaty head again. “Zere is a witness who knows ze truth,” he replied. “You are all under –”
    Another officer hurried into the room and grabbed Piti ’ s arm.
    The detective shrugged him off, his mouth turning down at the corners. “ Vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage! ”
    Heather snorted.
    “What did he say?” Ryan asked.
    “He said he has the brain of a cheese sandwich,” she said. The situation was dire, but she couldn ’ t help laugh at that.
    Piti glared daggers at them, then turned to the officer who had interrupted. “Oui?”
    They had a hushed conversation in French, and Piti became agitated. He pointed at Heather and Ryan, then jabbed his finger towards Amy. Dave growled and barked, and they all shushed him.
    “C ’est impossible, ” Piti grunted, loudly and shook his head.
    But whatever the officer had come to say, he was insistent. He showed Piti Brodoteau a piece of paper, and the detective snatched it from his grip and brought it close to his face, so close in fact that his greasy nose grazed the page.
    A moment of silence and then Piti erupted. “Bien!”