Carrington shook hands all around, his grasp firm and energetic. “And have a nice day,” he said.

“I really hate that fake ‘Have a nice day’ thing,” muttered Lucy as they left the embassy. “It’s so phony. At least the French don’t pretend to care whether you have a nice day or not.”

“That Carrington was next to useless,” said Bill as they gathered in a small knot on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t really expect them to give us emergency passports, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask,” admitted Bob. “At least now they’ll start a file. They’ll know about us, in case, well, things go south.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bill. “Go south?”

“Well, in case Chef Larry dies and they decide to charge one of us.”

“He means me,” said Lucy, swallowing hard. “I’m the one who found Chef Larry. I’m the obvious suspect.”

“Let’s hope he recovers and identifies his assailant,” said Bill.

“That would be the best-case scenario,” agreed Bob. “So what do you want to do now? Reconnoiter with the others?”

“It’s not even four,” said Bill, checking his watch and opening his map. “This is a pretty central location. I bet there’s something nearby.”

“You could say that,” offered Lucy, pointing at the horizon. “The Eiffel Tower is just over there.”

“How about Les Invalides?” suggested Bill, pointing to a spot on the map. “Napoleon’s tomb.”

“And the Army Museum,” said Bob. “I think they have Napoleon’s hat there and a lot of other cool stuff.”

Bill was definitely interested. “Sounds great.”

“Ick,” said Lucy. “I don’t like Napoleon.”

“We could do the Eiffel Tower,” offered Bob.

But Lucy was already developing plans of her own. “No, you guys go and see the guns and stuff. I think I’ll pay a visit to Elizabeth.”

Bill furrowed his brow. “Are you still worried about her?” he asked.

“A bit,” admitted Lucy. “I just want to touch bases with her, make sure she’s okay. And it’s not far from here.” She was already on her way, giving them a little wave and heading off in the direction of the Palais Garnier, but she wasn’t really thinking about Elizabeth’s problems. She was thinking about the hotel, the Cavendish chain, which was an economic powerhouse with branches all over the world. Perhaps someone in management, if Elizabeth asked politely, might be able to give her a lead to someone who could intervene on their behalf. Or even drop a word to someone influential. That was how things worked in Maine. Lucy had seen it plenty of times as a reporter for the Tinker’s Cove weekly newspaper, the Pennysaver. And if networking was the key to getting things done in Maine, she suspected it was even more important in France.