“Whose money was it?” asked Lucy.

“Adil’s grandfather’s, well, not his, exactly. It’s for the royalists, to restore the monarchy in Egypt. They are raising lots of money, and he asked us to hold it, to hide it for the group. His father was King Farouk’s advisor. He remembers the king giving him chocolates.” Malik shrugged. “A fat, old, rich man gave a little boy a piece of candy all those years ago, and he doesn’t forget. He does all sorts of illegal stuff and makes his grandson get involved, and me, the friend of his grandson, I cannot betray them. It is a matter of honor. I have to help, and so I will end up in jail.”

“You could go to the police, tell them what you know in exchange for immunity,” said Lucy.

“You’re a French citizen, right?” asked Bill. “You have rights.”

Malik laughed, scoffing at Bill’s naïveté. “I’m a legal citizen. I have a French passport, oui. But there’s lots of things they can charge me with, and that’s before they even get to the money. I don’t get treated the same, because I’m not white and not Catholic.”

“Most French people aren’t religious,” said Lucy, confused.

“C’est vrai. They don’t go to church on Sunday, and they don’t even believe in their white God with the long beard, but the babies are all christened, the marriages are in church, and the funerals are very traditional. You’ll see, if you go tomorrow. Sylvie will be buried at the Cimetière Montparnasse. The priest will be there in his robes, and his words will promise eternal life and salvation. For that putain.”

Lucy was shocked at his vehemence, at the venom in his tone, as he spit out the word putain, calling the woman she thought was his friend a whore. “Tell me you had nothing to do with her death,” she said, practically pleading.

“Me? No. I had nothing to do with it.” He stared at his hands, large hands. “I don’t think the police will believe me. I think I will, like in your gangster movies, take the fall.”

“Son, you need a lawyer,” said Bill.

Malik grimaced. “They’ll give me a lawyer, a lawyer who will make sure I’m the one who gets locked up.”

“Look, is there some way we can help?” asked Bill.

“Les Américains always want to help. It’s not World War II,” said Malik, standing up. “I have to get back to work. I’m on thin ice as it is. Au revoir.”

“Au revoir,” repeated Lucy, wondering if she really ever would see Malik again.

“That was weird,” said Bill, taking Lucy by the arm and resuming their stroll. “Do you think we should tell Lapointe?”