Fiona Silk Mysteries 2-Book Bundle. Mary Jane Maffini
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said evenly, “I can read, so I do know about reality television. But what does all that have to do with St. Aubaine? We don’t even have a television station. Our population is two thousand, including stray dogs. Not exactly New York or LA.”
“You really need to get satellite, Miz Silk. How do you think I keep up with what’s happening in the world? Trends and everything. Do you know there are even business report channels?”
I shuddered.
Josey wasn’t letting go of this idea. “But, you’ll have to buy a new TV set first. I can find you one pretty cheap. Uncle Mike knows a guy...”
“No thanks,” I said quickly.
“And I can pick you up a dish and receiver at a garage sale. People are always upgrading. Uncle Mike can get you the cheat card, and you’ll get hundreds of channels, just like that. Everyone does it. Even if they trace your signal, the worst they’ll do is fry your receiver.”
I blinked.
She beamed at me. “Easy as pie, Miz Silk. Then you can move into the twenty-first century.”
“I don’t think so, Josey.” Of course, I might have been one or two centuries behind, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe I had heard the last on the satellite issue.
She chattered on. “Anyway, the reason all these people are here...”
I smiled. Josey really cares a lot about Marc-André. She’d be happy to hear that he’d been awake and talking that afternoon. “It’s okay. Here’s our poutine. And I have good news today. You know what...Josey?”
Josey’s fork landed with a clatter. I was so surprised, I dropped mine too. “What?”
Josey’s mouth hung open. I followed her gaze. It led to a young man ambling along the sidewalk.
“Holy smokes. That’s...”
I stared. “Who?”
“I can’t believe it!”
“Me neither. But who is it I can’t believe?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I’m not. Who is he? And why do we drop our forks when we see him?” I glanced around the Chez. We were not the only fork droppers. Every woman in the place was staring out the window. A few went so far as to rush for the door. From a distance, he seemed lean and hip Quebec stylish, but I couldn’t really get a look at his face. He was talking intently to a dark-haired woman with splendid curves and a wide, sexy smile that lit up her face. She put a seductive hand on his shoulder. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had left a burn mark.
Josey lowered her voice. “It’s Rafaël.”
“Hmm.”
“You don’t actually know who Rafaël is, do you, Miz Silk?”
I shook my head.
“He’s just the most famous TV chef around. He’s really, really big in Quebec, and now he’s got a new show on English television too. And a magazine. I think he’s going to be even bigger than Marietta.”
“Who is Marietta?”
“The woman he’s talking to. She’s big news. She’s got books and two shows. She’s on magazine covers and even business news. She’s what they call a brand. People call her Naughty Marietta, because she’s really sexy. I heard she was going to start a whole line of cooking equipment and food too.”
“A brand. Unbelievable.” I sighed. “Well, I’ve never heard of either of them.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Miz Silk, but who have yon heard of?”
Something told me that Homer (not Simpson), Shakespeare and Margaret Atwood weren’t going to cut it here.
“Pop culture isn’t my thing, Josey. What are they doing in St. Aubaine?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you, Miz Silk. It’s all about En feu! Hot Stuff! Rafaël’s going to be shooting a special here with Marietta. That’s going to be amazing. Even if his lordship did help to make it all happen.”
“Oh. Jean-Claude is behind this too?”
“He’s involved. Not the only person, though.”
“Isn’t it enough that he’s trying to redevelop the whole waterfront, stick up giant houses and condos and change the character of the village into something...?”
“Snooty patootie?” Josey suggested.
“Exactly. Anyway, when did we stop calling it ‘town’ and start calling it ‘the village’?”
Josey hesitated. “I don’t know. It just sort of snuck up on us, I guess. It sounds a bit trendier than ‘town’. I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe Jean-Claude was behind that too. He called the new condo development Le Village au bord de la Rivière. That changed the whole look of the place. Did you know that now he’s teamed up with those people who bought the Wallingford Estate? They’re supposed to be turning it into a world class resort and spa.”
“I must have missed that.”
“But you keep to yourself, Miz Silk. The grand opening is going to be in a couple of weeks. They’re letting the production team use the site free, and they gave Marietta and Rafaël the really fancy rooms. They call them suites. It’s amazing PR. Then when the program airs, they’ll get exposure across the country. Everyone says Jean-Claude made the connection with the television producers and the new owners of the resort.”
I said, “Huh.”
“I’ve never been to a spa.”
“I haven’t either.”
“Not even when you were married to that lawyer?”
“Especially not then.”
Time to change the topic. “I guess I missed out on this news entirely. The Wallingford Estate was abandoned when I spent my summers here as a kid. It must have had the best river view in the whole village, from up there on that hill, but even then it was kind of creepy. I haven’t heard about the people who bought it.”
“You’re the only one, then. Her name is Anabel Huffington-Chabot. She’s very glamorous, used to be a model. You never met her?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t mean a thing. I know Jean-Claude, and that’s enough to put me off the project.”
Josey turned toward the window and craned to watch as Rafaël crossed the road. An SUV squealed to a halt and the red-headed woman who’d dropped the wallet jumped out. She appeared to be accosting Rafaël. Marietta jumped back. I watched with my mouth open. A plump young man in skinny white jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt ran up to them and fluttered around waving a clipboard frenetically. I wasn’t sure that this was the perfect day to wear cowboy boots, but, as usual, what did I know?
“That’s her. The woman who dropped the wallet,” I said and started to get out of my seat. Before I’d left the booth, the conversation ended with much arm waving, and Rafaël headed off up the hill, holding on to Marietta’s hand. The red-headed woman hopped into her SUV and nearly flattened a few unwary pedestrians as she rocketed out of sight in the opposite direction. The young man in the cowboy boots stood watching with one hand over his mouth.
I noticed a few local women wandering after the famous pair, sort of like a crowd of possessed peasants in a cheesy horror movie.
I said, “Who was that again?”
Josey stared at me with pity. “It’s what I’ve been telling you about. He’s Rafaël. She’s Marietta. They will be doing a cooking show together. Sort of competition with each other over food. You know. That lady with the ketchup-coloured hair is the producer for the show they’re doing together. I forget her name, but I saw her picture