“Not funny, Mom.” Elizabeth gathered the bills into a neat stack and replaced them in the envelope. “I thought she was an enthusiastic volunteer, but do you think she was getting paid for sex? Could she have made this money doing tricks?”

“I’m not up on the current rates,” said Lucy, “but I doubt it.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Elizabeth.

“We’re calling Girard,” said Lucy, reaching for her phone.

The call went to voice mail, so Lucy left a message, saying only that she had found something of interest that belonged to Sylvie. She didn’t know how messages were handled by the French police and was leery of giving too much information.

“I don’t like this,” she said to Elizabeth, who was holding the envelope of money. “I feel like we’re in danger as long as we have this. I want to get rid of it.”

“We could hide it.”

“Not here,” said Lucy. “It’s too dangerous. What about the Cavendish? They must have a safe there.”

“Too many people have access,” said Elizabeth.

“There’s a safe in the apartment,” said Lucy. “It’s like the ones they have in hotel rooms. You punch in a PIN code.”

“Do you really want to be tortured for your PIN code?” demanded Elizabeth.

“Not really,” admitted Lucy, thinking that it really wouldn’t be necessary. Any idiot could guess her code, as it was the last four digits of her phone number. “We have to take it to the police.”

“You’re crazy. We can’t carry fifty thousand euros on the Métro.”

“Who’s going to know?” asked Lucy.

“They’re probably keeping watch on the apartment right now. They’ll see us leave with a package.”

“I have a big purse.” It was true. Lucy was carrying a big catchall, with plenty of room for a camera, guidebook, and water bottle.

“They’ll follow us. It’s a couple of blocks to the Métro station, and this isn’t a very good neighborhood.”

“We could call a cab,” suggested Lucy.

“I’m not leaving here,” said Elizabeth, hugging the envelope to her chest. “Try that cop again, okay?” Her face was ashen, and her lips seemed to have disappeared. “Please.”

This time Girard answered his phone and promised to send a couple of officers to pick up the money. “Don’t open the door to anyone, even if they’re wearing a uniform,” he said. “Make sure you see their IDs.”

“I couldn’t tell a real one from a fake one,” said Lucy, trying not to panic. This was really getting out of hand.

“Give me a password,” he said.

Lucy thought she’d stepped out of real life and into a film noir. “Breathless,” she said.

“Interesting choice,” said Girard. “Remain calm. They are on the way.”