She was tired and cranky. She was really beginning to hate Paris, which wasn’t at all what she had thought it would be. She wanted it to be like the Lancôme ad that she’d seen playing on a giant screen at the airport, in which Natalie Portman skipped along the cobblestones in a filmy chiffon dress, only to be wrapped suddenly in a handsome man’s arms. Only she wanted to be wrapped in Bill’s arms, kissing him passionately beneath the Eiffel Tower. But instead, the entire city was shut down in a general strike, and she was involved in a sordid crime.

Making a quick decision, she marched right over to the guy, who watched her approach coolly through dark sunglasses, taking a long drag on his cigarette and slowly inhaling the smoke.

“Why are you watching us?” she demanded, arms on hips and bright white running shoes planted firmly on the paving.

He wasn’t the least bit fazed, just flicked his cigarette. “Those shoes are terrible,” he said.

“They’re very comfortable, and I’m glad I brought them, because I’ve had to walk a long distance because of the general strike. Now, answer my question. Why are you following us?”

“I am not following anyone,” he said. “I’m just getting some fresh air.”

“I don’t believe you care the least bit about fresh air,” said Lucy, challenging him. “If you did, you wouldn’t smoke, would you? And besides, I know you’re following us, because I saw you in the train station the other day, and then I saw you in Versailles.”

“Ah, you were in Versailles, too? C’est magnifique. Did you enjoy it?”

“Quite frankly, it seemed a bit over the top.”

“Over the top?”

“Too much. De trop. I think that’s the term.”

“Ah, yes. But now the château belongs to the people of France.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” said Lucy, refusing to be charmed. He wasn’t good-looking, like Serge at the hotel, what with the sunglasses and the stubble of beard and the shaved head, which she didn’t like. Nonetheless, there was something appealing about him, and that disturbed her. What was it? His accent?

“But I have. I have told you I am not following you. It is a coincidence that we were both in Versailles, nothing more.”

“You were sightseeing?” asked Lucy in a rather satirical tone.

“Ah, sadly, no. I was visiting Grand-mère.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Can’t you come up with something better than that?”

“The truth, madame. What is better than the truth?”

Lucy had definitely had enough. “Listen, buddy,” she said, glaring at him. “I don’t want to see you again. You stop hanging around. Get that?”

“What? This is not a free country? I cannot go where I want?”