“Let me get dressed and we can go get something to eat,” I said. “Are you going to confront him?”
Mac was silent for a moment. “I haven’t decided. I don’t know whether this is related and I hate to ruin this guy’s life. On the other hand, he’s been committing fraud and I feel like I have to delve deeper.”
I knew he had more to say and waited.
“This isn’t my jurisdiction and as far as I know, he hasn’t done any harm. If he is faking his identity, then it’s likely Jessica doesn’t know, which means not only will he lose his job, but potentially his fiancée. I hate to throw a bomb into someone’s life like that for no good reason.”
“I guess you’re right, but it seems suspicious to me,” I said.
Mac paced the hallway from the turret entrance to my door. “It may be none of our concern. I’m barely in charge of this murder investigation. I don’t have any authority over restaurant licensing.”
“If your person was able to find out overnight, it can’t be that well hidden,” I said.
“The officer who found the information has connections in the Upper Peninsula. When René Sartin popped up as a U.S. citizen, not French, he followed the trail and called his contact,” Mac said. “That guy remembered the story—but it’s been wiped from any easy search engine—even the local newspaper has deleted all references to the accident.”
“Maybe that’s how a Cordon Bleu chef ended up at a small bed-and-breakfast in Western Michigan instead of a big city. Maybe he was hoping no one would ever look into his credentials. I think Jessica has a right to know what she’s getting herself into before she marries him.”
Then I remembered my strange conversation with Linda the night before. I told Mac that she suspected Clarissa and René might have been involved somehow.
“It sounds like René had all sorts of trouble headed his way. Maybe we’ll be doing her a favor by letting her know,” I said.
“You’re right, but we should talk to him first.”
I slipped back into my room and quickly got dressed. As I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, it hit me. What if Clarissa had found out about the real René? She didn’t strike me as someone who would balk at a little blackmail, especially if it also messed around with her cousin’s life. If she was blackmailing René, that gave him a pretty good reason to kill her. Maybe there wasn’t an affair, as Linda seemed to think. But Clarissa could have ruined his whole life if Jessica was unaware that he’d been passing himself off as his brother.
I quietly slipped back out into the hall. I opened my mouth to tell Mac when I noticed a new gleam in his eyes.
“What if Clarissa was blackmailing René?” he said.
“Just what I was thinking,” I said. “It seems like a pretty good motive for murder.”
Mac took my hand. “Let’s go have a chat with the chef.”
We walked down the stairs, cut through the dining room, and knocked on the kitchen door before entering. René and Emmett were busy cooking eggs, bacon, and pancakes. My stomach growled.
“Mr. Sartin?” Mac said. “Can we speak with you a moment?”
The chef glanced up with a scowl on his face. He rearranged his expression when he saw us. He gestured at Emmett to take over pancake duty, wiped his hands on a towel, and followed us out into the dining room.
“What can I do for you?” he asked after we sat.
Mac took a breath, but I cut in ahead of him.
“One of the hardest parts about a murder investigation is that we have to look at everyone. Unfortunately, many secrets are revealed whether they relate to the crime or not.”
René sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I told you everything I know. I was busy in the kitchen when Clarissa was killed. I don’t know anything.” His accent was in full force and I almost felt admiration for his acting skills.
I leaned forward.
“But you do have a secret,” I said. “We have to ask you about your past.”
He rubbed his arms and glanced toward the kitchen door.
“There’s not much to tell.” He shrugged and didn’t meet my eyes. “I grew up in Paris and went to the Cordon Bleu school—”
He stopped when Mac held up a hand. “Please, don’t make this worse by lying.”
René’s cheeks turned pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” Mac said. “We have no interest in revealing your secret to anyone unless it relates to Clarissa’s murder.”
“You think I killed Clarissa?”
“We think you aren’t who you say you are, which makes us wonder what else you’re hiding,” Mac said.
Loosening the collar on his chef’s tunic, René let out a breath of air.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at. Maybe you should just tell me what you think you know.”
I was impressed by the way he stuck to the story. It almost had me thinking Mac’s source had made a mistake. That’s probably how he’d gotten away with it for so long.