It could only be Madeleine who had written that word in my notebook before she vanished, but I had no idea why. I didn’t want to repeat the previous day’s mistake and mention her to Massu. I didn’t know what, if anything, he knew of her. The notes I’d written were incomplete. Her name didn’t appear in its pages. The conclusion to Madeleine’s tales—her own story, recounted to me the very day of her disappearance—was still unwritten. For now, it existed only in my head. After she’d gone, I hadn’t had the heart to so much as open the notebook, let alone write in it, which was why I hadn’t seen the clue she had left me.

Massu was waiting for me to say something. Fortunately, life had taught me the value of a poker face in a crisis. “It must have been written by my neighbor Arthur, during our last poker party. He suggested it as the title of a book I’m writing.”

“Looks like a woman’s handwriting to me.”

“Arthur is Hungarian. Perhaps it’s a Hungarian’s handwriting.”

“Where is this Arthur?”

“I believe he’s currently in Bordeaux.”

“Pity,” said Massu. “Although that’s where you should be.”

“Perhaps it’s not too late to leave.”

“The railway stations are crammed with crowds of people who agree with you.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“Did you see Chanel?”

“I did.”

“What did you learn?”

“She doesn’t have it.”

“What?”

“The manuscript.”

“Monsieur, I’m a detective, not a scholar. I’m not interested in a manuscript. I’m interested in solving a series of murders.”

“Ah, well, I’m afraid I learned nothing of any use to you about all that.”

Massu sighed. “Well, your incompetence as an informer is more than compensated for by what I read in your notebook.” He slid it across the desk.

“They’re just fairy tales,” I said, stuffing the notebook into my jacket pocket.

“Oh, I doubt that. But tell me something. The story finishes during the last war. What has happened since? How does the tale of the albatross end?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I haven’t figured out the ending.”

“Well, if you do, please let me know. So that I can do what I can to protect whoever this Shéhérazade might be.”

“She’s not real. She’s a chimera. What about protecting me? I’m real. And you promised me an exit visa.”