Lucy was quick with an answer. “I told the proc, Madame Hadamard,” she said, thinking that Bill was on to something. The proc was supposed to be supervising the investigation into Chef Larry’s death, but she wasn’t sharing information with Lapointe, the chief investigator in the case. Meanwhile, Lapointe wasn’t communicating with Girard, who was investigating Sylvie’s death. The situation was all too familiar to her from home, where public safety officials seemed more interested in defending their turf and only grudgingly cooperated with each other.

True to form, Lapointe was quick on the defense. “There is more to this than you comprehend. All is not as it seems,” he said. “I assure you we will no doubt get to the bottom of all this. Meanwhile, mademoiselle, for your safety and your parents’ peace of mind, I would advise you to take a leave of absence for the next week or two.” Elizabeth began a mild protest, but he shook his head. “No, mademoiselle, it will not be a problem. Your employer will certainly understand that you need time to grieve the loss of your friend and to recover your equilibrium.” He paused, tenting his hands. “In fact, I will put in a word for you.”

It was obvious that the interview was over, but Lucy still had something to say, although it was not something she wanted to say in front of Bill and Elizabeth. As she put on her coat, she reached into the pocket and found the apartment key, which she tucked beneath her on the chair, leaving it behind. They were about to leave the building when she pretended to discover the loss.

“I’ll go,” offered Bill.

“No, no,” she said a bit too quickly. “It was my mistake. I’ll go. Why don’t you wait for me in that café?”

“Okay,” he said somewhat dubiously.

“I’ll only be a minute,” she promised, heading for the stairs.

When she returned to Lapointe’s office she found him with his elbows propped on the desk, dangling the enormous key from its silk cord, clearly waiting for her to return. “Madame, you have forgotten your key.”

“I left it on purpose,” she said. “I wanted to speak to you alone.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Vraiment?”

“Oui.”

“You have something to confess, madame?”

“I did a foolish thing,” she began. “I went to the hospital after Chef Larry was attacked. The guard left his post for a moment, and I slipped into his room. I was looking for some clue to the attack.”

“Did you find this clue?”

“I think I did. He was conscious, and he asked me to deliver a message for him. He wanted me to tell Serge at the Cavendish Hotel to visit him.”

“And did you do that?”