name is Richard Garrett.”
“And who is Richard Garrett?”
“Who knows? Who cares? He has something to do with the art world. But, Lisette, he loves my paintings. He understands them.”
Lisette turned over onto her stomach, peering closely at her friend. “I do not think that is what put the smile on your face, chérie.”
“No! He ravaged me! It was wonderful.”
“Ravaged you?” Lisette tucked her chin into her hands. “Tell me!”
Mason shifted up in the bed, too excited to lay prone any longer. “You remember what it was like when I first got to Paris? When I wanted to taste the Bohemian life…those conceited painters you set me up with? Well…it was nothing like that. Richard Garrett swept in like a knight on his charger and showed me what I’ve been missing. And here’s the really strange part. That night in the river, when I thought I was going to drown…I thought about this man I’d never known. It was as if I was wishing for him to appear. And then, out of the blue…he does. It’s as if fate heard all my wishes that night and decided to grant all of them to me in one fell swoop. Here, pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.”
Lisette was laughing. “He was that good, eh?”
“It’s not just that. Well, he was, yes. He was astonishing. But it’s more than that. He believes in me! You should hear the things he says, the way he talks about me. When I listen to him, when I see myself through his eyes, it’s as if all the things I thought were wrong with me disappear. He makes me feel that everything that’s happened to me happened for a reason, to make me what I am. That what I am may be worthy, after all; someone I could learn to love. No one has ever made me feel that way before. It’s such an amazing feeling, Lisette, that I almost don’t know what to do with it.”
“I’ve never seen you like this. You’re falling in love with this man.”
“Am I?” Mason tried the thought out in her mind and felt it answered in the sudden flitting of her heart. “I suppose I am.”
“Chérie, I am happy for you. But you do have a teensy little problem, no?”
“Problem?”
“He thinks you are your sister.”
Mason grinned. “That is a problem, isn’t it?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to tell him the truth.”
“And…You don’t think that will make a difference? You have tricked him, after all.”
“He’s so crazy about the paintings, he’ll be ecstatic to find out I’m alive.”
“If you say so. But you’d better be very careful about how you deliver this exciting news. You don’t want to make him feel like a fool.”
“That’s a good point. We’re going for a walk this afternoon. He’s going to take me on a tour of Montmartre and show me ‘Mason’s world.’ If I wait until afterward, he will feel foolish. So I have to tell him right away.” She rolled the covers around her hands, thinking. “I know! You can help me.”
Lisette sat up. “Oh, no.”
“You know men. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go to breakfast. We’ll go to the Café de la Paix—”
“The Café de la Paix! That’s the most expensive place in Paris!”
“I know. But we’ll sign it to Falconier. It’s the least he can do for us. I feel like celebrating. And while we’re at it, you can help me figure out just the right way to tell him.”
Mason and Lisette’s celebratory mood was tempered when they reached the lobby. Lisette put her hand on Mason’s arm to stop them short. A distinguished, grey-haired man had just come through the door and was looking around, as if to get his bearings.
“What is it?” Mason whispered.
“That man. He’s Inspector Duval of the Sûreté. The most feared flic in all of Paris.”
Mason paled. “Policeman?”
“Yes, someone you definitely do not want on your trail.”
As she said this, the inspector noticed them. Smiling pleasantly, he walked toward them.
Lisette’s hand tightened on Mason’s arm. “What does he want with us?” she muttered.
As he came before them, still smiling, there seemed nothing threatening in his demeanor. He looked, in fact, like a kindly grandfather. He removed his hat and gave a slight bow.
“Mademoiselle Amy Caldwell, I believe. From America.” He spoke in English, which was accented but fluent.
“Yes,” Mason answered cautiously.
“I thought you must be, as you are in the company of your sister’s friend. I am Honoré Duval of the Prefecture de Police. I am here to extend the condolences of the French nation on the loss of your sister. If I might be of assistance in any way during your stay here, I hope you will call upon me.”
Mason could sense Lisette’s tension beside her. She smiled sweetly and said, “Thank you so much, Inspector, but I don’t think that will be necessary. My sister’s friends have been extremely generous and have been helping me through this difficult period.”
He watched her closely for a moment, as if studying her, and she could see, beneath the benign exterior, the eagle eye of a man whose profession caused him to suspect hidden meanings in small details. He remained silent for several awkward moments.
Lisette put some pressure on Mason’s arm, prompting her to leave. But before she could move, the policeman said, “I wonder if I might ask a somewhat indelicate question.”
The smile froze on Mason’s face. “Of course. Ask anything you like.”
His eyes swept down the chartreuse dress she wore. “Is it not the custom in your country to wear mourning on the loss of a family member?”
It was a detail she’d forgotten in the rush to pull off the masquerade in time. She needed to think fast.
“It’s not quite as strict a custom as it is here on the Continent,” she stalled. Then the answer came to her. “Besides, my sister hated black. She considered it the absence of color. If you look closely at her paintings, you’ll see she doesn’t use black. She would have hated for me to wear something she so despised.”
He gave no response. The awkwardness continued.
Finally, he asked, “May I share a personal feeling with you?”
“Please do.”
“Mademoiselle, in the past year, my office has investigated two hundred and fourteen suicides within the Paris city limits. Of those, all but four left some sort of suicide note, or at least a final word. It seems extremely odd to me that your sister, who devoted
