“More than Reynold Bryce’s?” I asked.

A spasm of pain or annoyance, I couldn’t really tell which, crossed his face. “Well, Reynold won’t be holding an exhibition this year, will he? Vollard will be the only show in town this summer.”

“Will you have any paintings in it?”

“No. I’m not, shall we say, in fashion, so it seems. One is expected to hurl paint at a canvas and paint a rhinoceros with a baby sitting on it if one wants to be noticed. I simply can’t do that. That’s why Reynold’s death was such a shock. At least I could usually count on being part of his shows.”

“I’m glad to see you here,” I said.

“You are? Why?”

“I got the impression the other day that his death had really upset you. So it’s good to see you’re out and about in company and not moping at home.”

“It was a bit of a shock, that’s all.” His face colored again. “I mean, who would have expected old Reynold…”

“I don’t think he expected it either,” I said. “Do you have any idea who might have killed him? What is the general opinion among your crowd at the cafés?”

“We heard it was a Jewish fanatic. Why, did you hear something different?”

“I’m a newcomer here,” I said. “I don’t know anybody. But obviously one is intrigued when a prominent member of an expatriate community is murdered. I wondered if there was more to it.”

“I think a Jewish fanatic is the most likely,” he said carefully. “He did say some absolutely damning things about Jews and what should happen to them. Tact was never Reynold’s stong point. If he didn’t like something, he said so, and loudly. Someone once commented that he really thought that God created him and then He rested.”

“You were a close friend of his, weren’t you?”

Again the pink cheeks. “Not really,” he said. “When I first arrived he was kind to me. Took me under his wing, you know. And he was decent about including my paintings when he had a showing. But he was like a little boy, really—easily bored. If he found a new toy, he dropped the old one and forgot about it.”

“Like Pauline?” I asked.

He looked startled. “Pauline? How did you hear about her?”

“Some of the people here mentioned her. They said Reynold Bryce had broken with her because she was too old.”

He looked amused now. “Is that what they said? How funny. Anyway that was ages ago.”

“So had he found a new toy more recently?” I asked.

“So one heard.”

“A who or a what?”