When that bit of business was completed, he asked about Chef Larry. “What is your relationship to the victim?”

“His name is Larry Bruneau, and he is the owner of this cooking school,” said Bob, representing the group. “We are all students. We had a class this morning.”

The commissaire was no longer bored. “What was the subject of the class?” he asked.

“Profiteroles,” said Sue.

“Ahhh,” replied the policeman. “Délicieuses, sans doute. But hardly the sort of thing that leads to a stabbing. ”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” said Rachel. “Why would anyone want to hurt Chef Larry?”

“There are many reasons for crime, madame,” said Lapointe. “It is unfortunate, but people do many terrible things to each other for many different reasons. Perhaps he owed money. And then there are drugs, the black market. There is much that goes on in Paris that a visitor does not see.” He paused, then shrugged. “Most likely, it is to do with a woman.”

“I opened the door,” said Pam, eager to confess and relieve her guilty conscience. “I know you’re not supposed to, but it was raining and there were two young men getting soaked, so I opened the door for them.”

“They did not know the code?” asked the commissaire, narrowing his eyes.

“They were carrying lots of packages, and their hands weren’t free,” said Pam. “They certainly didn’t look like criminals.”

“There’s no reason to believe they were the assailants,” said Ted, eager to defend his wife. “There are plenty of other people who work in this building. There are many businesses besides the cooking school.”

“And there was that man who attacked Larry in the market,” said Lucy, immediately wishing she hadn’t spoken up.

“Madame Stone, you are Madame Stone?” asked the commissaire. “What attack are you speaking of?”

“We were at the marché,” began Lucy.

“The Enfants Rouges,” added Sue.

“This guy came up and shouted at Chef Larry and shoved him.”

“Have you seen this man again?” asked Lapointe.

“I think I did. I think I saw him yesterday and again today, standing across the street,” said Lucy. “But I’m not sure. He was just average. He looked like a lot of other men. Dark, very short hair, unshaven.” As she spoke, she realized she could be describing the commissaire himself.

“The guy in the market had a unibrow,” said Sue.

“What is that?” demanded the commissaire. “Unibrow?”

“Very dark eyebrows that connected over his nose, with no space in between,” said Sue.

“Mrs. Stone, did the man you observed also have this unibrow?”

“I didn’t see. But he was wearing a leather jacket.”

“Like these guys today,” said Pam.

“It is the style,” admitted Lapointe.

“I feel so guilty,” said Rachel. “If I hadn’t let them in . . .”