“They stink of musky perfume,” said Lucy, wrinkling her nose as she shook a pillow out of its red satin case. “I was thinking this decor might be ironic, kind of a joke, but this perfume tells a different story. But I still can’t get a handle on it. She dressed so conservatively, she used very little makeup, and she had that simple little haircut.” She paused. “I don’t think she even wore perfume. I bet this scent came from the guys she, uh, entertained here.”

“That’s disgusting, Mom,” said Elizabeth, opening the armoire and revealing only a few pieces of clothing. “Regarde,” she said. “The typical Frenchwoman’s wardrobe. One black tailored jacket, one jean jacket, one pencil skirt, two pairs of black slacks, a white blouse, a black turtleneck, a gray cashmere sweater, a puffy down jacket, black pumps, a pair of Tod’s driving shoes. C’est tout.”

“She was wearing jeans, boots, and a trench coat when she disappeared, right?” asked Lucy.

Elizabeth had pulled open the drawer at the bottom of the armoire, revealing carefully folded lacy lingerie in a variety of colors, a neat stack of scarves, and rolled-up hosiery.

“This will all fit in her suitcase,” said Elizabeth, hoisting the large roller bag that was stored on top of the armoire.

Lucy wandered over to the fireplace, which was closed off, and checked out the items arranged on the mantel, beneath a spotted old mirror. There was a half-empty bottle of Le Muguet cologne, which, after one sniff, Lucy knew was not the musky, overwhelming scent that permeated the bedding. There were also a few childhood books, including Le Petit Prince, several Babars, and the fables of La Fontaine, and a carved wooden box containing a few pieces of jewelry. Good jewelry, noted Lucy, examining cultured pearl earrings, a gold cross and chain, a simple gold bangle bracelet. Closing the box, she gathered it all up and added it to the linens in the wicker hamper.

“Are her parents coming?” asked Lucy. “Is there going to be a funeral?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything from them. The police may still have her body. I don’t know how that works.”

“Neither do I, but I’m sure her parents would like to get their daughter buried as soon as possible,” said Lucy, sitting down on the bed. “Everything here speaks of a neat, organized girl, albeit with an interesting sex life, but she still had her Babar books. And that nice jewelry, probably gifts from her parents for graduations and first communion . . . but she was tortured and murdered. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Like girls who wear cashmere sweaters and pearl earrings shouldn’t get killed?” asked Elizabeth.

“That’s the hope,” said Lucy. “Your Coach bag is a talisman that will protect you from evil.”