She said, “Well, I—”

Blossom, who up until that moment had been as silent as one, suddenly piped up. “Hey. I remember her. She was on the balcony when that guy was killed.”

Willy pushed the hair out of his eyes and squinted. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know it! I wasn’t as blasted as you were,” Blossom said.

Diana backed away. People in the restaurant were beginning to stare. The man behind the counter with the giant chef’s knife was particularly threatening. “I was, but—”

“Are you the one who lost that necklace? You are, aren’t you?” Blossom said, her jaw dropped. “I remember you wearing it. I thought it was boss.”

“Well, yes, but—” she stopped. “When you saw me, I was wearing it?”

She began to say something, but Willy spoke over her. “Don’t talk to her, Blossom. There’s something wrong with her. She probably killed that dude and is looking to put the blame on us. Let’s get out of here.”

He reached for the door, and she instinctively reached for his arm. “Wait, I—”

He stared at her arm, barely touching his bare elbow. His voice was low now, serious. “Don’t. Or I’ll call the police. My dad’s a U.S. senator. He can end you, no problem, lady.”

Willy and Blossom stepped out into the night, and Diana decided it was best not to follow. But that was interesting. She’d been wearing the necklace when she went onto the balcony. So that meant it had been stolen between that moment and the moment she realized it was missing, after she found Claude Lachance’s body.

All sorts of bad things had happened that night on that balcony. Now that she knew the what and the where, she just needed to find out who and why.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Diana walked back toward the hotel, feeling a bit aimless, which wasn’t really good considering it wasn’t the best section of town. She kept looking over her shoulder, wondering if she was being followed. Eventually, she got past the Bastille and into a more touristy section of the city, where people were out, taking in the sights at night. She walked past a few couples walking arm in arm along the Seine; a couple of painters standing on the bridge in front of easels, capturing the cityscape under the bright lights; a man playing an accordion with a tiny pup and a cup for spare change at his toes. She tried to absorb all the energy of the City of Lights and enjoy the beauty around her. Instead, she couldn’t stop thinking of that mysterious night at Versailles.

Claude Lachance, aka Luc, was a liar, a philanderer, and a thief. That much was clear. But she hadn’t seen him on the balcony until she’d found him dead, and when she’d arrived on the balcony, she’d been wearing a necklace.

Diana didn’t know a lot of things, but she was pretty sure dead men couldn’t steal. So what had happened? When had it gone missing?