Elizabeth was seated at her desk and spotted them; she hopped to her feet and met them in the middle of the enormous lobby. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I want a word with that Serge fellow,” said Bill.

“You can’t do that,” she protested.

“Why not?”

“Well, because . . . ,” Elizabeth began, hesitating. “Because he’s not here.”

“Funny, isn’t that him right over there?” asked Bill.

He was high on testosterone, thought Lucy. That was the only explanation. She reached for his arm, trying to restrain him, but he brushed her off and strode across the plush carpet, planting himself in front of Serge. “I understand you’ve been seeing my daughter,” he said. His voice was even, but Lucy noticed Bill was clenching and unclenching his fist, itching to punch Serge in the face. She hurried after him, trailed by Elizabeth.

Serge didn’t seem the least bit intimidated, however. “Yes, I have,” he said in a respectful tone, taking Elizabeth’s hand. “Elizabeth is a lovely woman, and I have great respect for her and her family.”

“Well,” said Bill, somewhat deflated, “that’s good.”

“I would never do anything to hurt Elizabeth,” continued Serge, gazing at her fondly.

It occurred to Lucy that he truly was ridiculously handsome, and the French accent didn’t hurt, either. More importantly, he did seem to care for Elizabeth. Perhaps he was even in love with her.

“Of course not,” said Bill. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“You understand why we’re concerned,” said Lucy. “After what happened to Sylvie . . .”

“Absolutely,” agreed Serge with a solemn nod.

“And Chef Larry,” continued Lucy. “I’ve heard rumors he was involved in something dodgy here at the hotel, and since you work here, too, naturally we were . . .”

“It is understandable that you would be concerned. Rest assured, we are conducting our own investigation here at the hotel,” said Serge. “We are cooperating with the police and expect the matter to be resolved, perhaps as soon as today.”

Lucy could hardly believe it, wondering if this meant the police were finally wrapping up the investigation of the murders. Maybe this awful nightmare was coming to an end. “Really?”

“I am hopeful,” said Serge, leaning close to Lucy and Bill. “I don’t know the details, but we have all been told to watch for a certain man, an American. If he comes, we are to call the police immédiatement.”

“I just got his photo,” said Elizabeth, “but I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”

“Maybe your parents know him,” suggested Serge.

“I doubt it very much,” said Lucy, thinking it was ridiculous for Serge to think all Americans in Paris must be acquainted with each other. “We hardly know anyone in Paris.”