“I met the housekeeper,” I said. “I tried my best with the Irish charm but I can’t say I achieved much. She is furious at being thrown out by the police and was hoping to slip back in unnoticed. I don’t think she was at all pleased that I found her there. She said she was just rescuing some food before it spoiled and that may be true, but I sensed she wanted to get her hands on more than cakes and pies.”

“Steal from her dead employer, you mean?” Gus looked shocked.

“I don’t know about that. It could be just taking things she felt she was entitled to. But either way she was not going to let me in, and she didn’t disclose much about Mr. Bryce, except what we already know: he and his wife had a falling out, but she’s Catholic and wouldn’t divorce him. They haven’t seen each other since he came to France but there was no mention of another woman in his life.”

“Was there any mention of another man?” Sid asked.

We all reacted with surprise. “Holy Mother of God, I never thought of that. Have there been any rumors of that ilk, Mary?” I asked.

Mary shook her head. “I can’t say I’ve heard any rumors about his private life recently. Of course everyone in Paris is expected to have a mistress, so that would hardly have been worth mentioning. But a male companion? I’m sure I would have heard about that.”

“The one thing I did ascertain is that nobody will be at the apartment tomorrow. The housekeeper is coming back on Monday to give the place a thorough clean so I really must try to get a look at it before everything is moved and packed away.”

“How do you propose to get a look at it, dare one ask?” Sid said.

I grinned. “I was hoping to borrow a pair of your trousers and climb up the tree. It seemed as if the end window wasn’t quite shut tight, so I thought…”

“Molly, you’ll be arrested for breaking and entering,” Mary said. “You’ll also make Inspector Henri even more suspicious about you than he already is.”

“Molly, don’t take any stupid risks for me,” Sid said. “I’m sure it will all sort itself out, and if it doesn’t, we’ll just find a way to slip out of the country and catch a boat home.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. “If I am caught I’ll confess to being a newspaper reporter, hoping to write a scoop on Reynold Bryce for the Boston papers. They can be annoyed with me, but they wouldn’t charge me with anything. Newspaper reporters can get away with murder—” I broke off at that choice of words. “I didn’t mean that literally,” I said.