It took some convincing, but in the end Bill finally agreed to let Elizabeth go to work, as long as either he or Lucy accompanied her to and from, and she promised to text them regularly throughout the day. Lucy took the morning shift, leaving with Elizabeth and taking the Métro to the hotel. Finding the lobby sparsely populated at this early hour, Lucy decided to stick around for a while, hoping she’d have an opportunity to check out that black bag belonging to Sylvie that Elizabeth had mentioned.

Elizabeth had to change into her Cavendish uniform in the locker room, and Lucy waited anxiously, sitting on one of the luxurious velvet sofas, for her to reappear and take her usual place at the concierge’s desk. Moments later, after taking a phone call, Elizabeth moved over to the reception desk, apparently filling in for the deceased Sylvie and joining a similarly young and attractive colleague. When the other worker took a break, she signaled her mother and reached under the reception desk, passing her the duffel bag that had belonged to Sylvie.

Lucy tucked it under her arm and made her way to the delicately perfumed ladies’ room, where she installed herself in one of the roomy cubicles, each one of which was equipped not only with a toilet but also with a private sink and a makeup table with a stool and large mirror. She sat right down, eagerly unzipped the bag, and pulled out the contents. These were the sorts of things any working girl might keep on hand at her job, including a couple of packs of panty hose, a cosmetic bag, tampons, and cigarettes. There was also, more surprisingly, a French sex manual and some items that Lucy suspected—but she wasn’t absolutely sure—were sex toys. One clue was the fact that they were wrapped in a very skimpy black lace teddy.

Living in New England was a curse, thought Lucy, thinking that at her age she ought to be a bit more sophisticated. She was an experienced woman, a mother of four, after all, and she shouldn’t feel squeamish about the things consenting adults did. But in her world, she admitted to herself as she stuffed the sex aids back into the bag, you wore thick flannel to bed, and lots of it.

There was also a special compartment in the duffel that, Lucy knew, was designed to keep sweaty workout gear separate from the bag’s other contents. Lucy was just about to open it when her smartphone buzzed. It was Elizabeth, sounding rather frantic.

“It’s Sylvie’s parents. They’re coming from Chartres. They have to identify the body.” She paused. “They want me to meet them at the station.”

“Not a problem,” said Lucy, sensing an opportunity. “Your dad and I can meet them.”

“They’re taking the train. It arrives at Montparnasse station at nine-oh-two.”