Stone spoke up. “It’s easy when it’s the truth.”
The prefect’s cell phone rang; he answered it and spoke for half a minute, then hung up. “A stolen Fiat 500 was found on a road behind the house. It was an Abarth, so he liked his cars sporty. He walked through the Bois to get here, apparently. Perhaps we will know more when his fingerprints and DNA are run. Anything else from anyone?” He looked around the room, but no one spoke. “Then I bid you all bonne nuit.” He turned and walked toward the door. “I want the shotgun back in this house after it has been properly examined,” he said to his officer as he passed, then he was gone.
The police loaded the corpse on a gurney and took it away. The officer gave them a little salute then followed it.
Stone noticed that there was very little blood left at the scene.
“Stone,” Rick said, “your van awaits in the forecourt. I found it at the end of the drive. My men were asleep.”
“I had dismissed them,” Stone said.
“Then I won’t have them shot.”
“That’s magnanimous of you, Rick.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Rick looked pleased with himself. “All right, everybody, let’s all get some sleep.” He gave them a little salute and left the house.
Stone took Mirabelle in his arms. “I’m glad that’s over,” he said.
“It’s not over,” she replied.
16
Mirabelle would not go upstairs until she had scrubbed the few flecks of blood from the floor and kitchen cabinets. “We will not shock Marie,” she explained.
She fell asleep immediately, but Stone did not. Over and over he tried to explain the night’s events to himself but could not. There were too many possibilities. As they were having a breakfast of eggs scrambled by Mirabelle, Rick LaRose called.
“Something Jacques and his boys didn’t bother to tell us last night: the bag on the doorstep contained a few tools, but it also contained a length of rope, a black hood with no eyeholes, and a roll of duct tape. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered duct tape in Paris. It’s an American thing.”
“So what are you thinking?” Stone asked. He didn’t say it himself, because he didn’t want Mirabelle to hear.
“He may have come to kidnap somebody,” Rick replied. “I suppose he was strong enough to throw you over his shoulder.”
“No,” Stone said.
“Okay, he would have made you walk to his car, blindfolded.”
“Perhaps.”
“Easier to deal with her, huh?”
“Perhaps.”
“I think I’d better do some looking into Mademoiselle Chance,” Rick said.
“Why not?”
“I’ll get back to you when I know more.”
“Do that.” He hung up.
“Was that your Rick?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“He called to say he didn’t know anything.”
“Come now.”