Lucy had actually had the same thought but felt duty bound to defend Norah. “She made substantial donations to the fund in the past.”

“This trip cost a lot of money. The cooking school alone is very expensive, thousands of euros,” said Lapointe. “This seems very odd to me, all this money for you and your friends to come to Paris. Is there something you are supposed to do while you are here?”

“Only to take the cooking class,” said Lucy. “The rest of our time is free, for us to do what we want. Yesterday we went to Versailles.”

“Perhaps this trip was a way to hide a money transfer. Do you think this is possible?”

“Money laundering? You tell me,” said Lucy, who found the idea ridiculous. “I don’t know how these things work, but I don’t think Norah would be involved in anything like that.” She bit her lip. “Look, all I know is I was on the TV show, they gave us this prize, and I packed my bags and got on a plane. That’s it.”

“You’d be surprised what you might know,” said Lapointe, peering around the side of the computer screen and resting his bulging reptilian eyes on her. “I will find the truth bit by bit,” he said, quickly licking his lips. “It will emerge, and the guilty will be punished.”

Lucy thought of Elizabeth’s warning about garde à vue and had a brief image of a dark, dank cell. “I am only too happy to tell you what I know. You haven’t asked me anything about the crime or the man at the market who attacked Chef Larry. And I think someone has been following us—a sinister-looking man in a leather jacket.”

“If you are as innocent as you claim, why would anyone be following you?” he asked. “I think you must be mistaken.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” said Lucy, who didn’t think any such thing. Her thoughts turned to the rumors she’d heard the night before, at Sylvie’s birthday party. “Do you think Chef Larry was involved in the black market? Perhaps he angered someone? In fact—” she began, about to mention Chef Larry’s offer to get cut-rate delicacies for them when Lapointe cut her off.

“Madame, I am the one who is supposed to be asking the questions.” Lapointe blinked slowly. “But for the time being, I am satisfied. You may go, but I may need to talk to you again.”

“How long do you think this investigation will take?” asked Lucy. “We have a flight home on the seventeenth.”

“That is not my concern,” said Lapointe. “You may send in Monsieur Stone, s’il vous plaît.”

Lucy went out to the hall, where Bill was leafing through his guidebook. “He wants to see you.”

“How’d it go?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I have no idea where this is heading.”