“You can go wherever you want, preferably far, far away. Just leave us alone!”

And with that, she turned on her heel and marched back down the empty street to the double doors, which were still covered with graffiti, and punched the security code into the keypad. The buzzer sounded, and she opened the door, looking over her shoulder before she went inside and noted with satisfaction that he was gone and the little plaza was empty.

When she entered the apartment, everybody rushed to greet her.

“Where were you?” demanded Bill in an accusing tone of voice. “You were gone for hours.”

“You look exhausted,” said Rachel.

“Did you find any food?” asked Sue.

“Oh, the food! I forgot all about it. I’m sorry. But that little ethnic store is open. At least it was when I went by.”

“Maybe there’s hope for dinner,” said Sue, grabbing her jacket. “C’mon, Sid. Let’s check it out.”

“Where have you been?” persisted Bill. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Didn’t think of it,” said Lucy. “I started walking, and I found myself near the hospital, so I thought I’d see how Chef Larry’s doing, maybe pay him a visit, but he’s still under police guard. Then I decided I might as well visit Elizabeth at the hotel and check on her. . . .”

“You walked all that way?” Rachel’s eyes were round with disbelief.

“You must be exhausted,” said Pam.

“I am,” admitted Lucy, unsure whether she should tell the others about her encounter with the guy outside the café.

“I can’t believe you just went off like that,” said Bill angrily. “I was really worried. You better not be up to your tricks, investigating the attack on Chef Larry. This is France, not Tinker’s Cove, and you’re just going to get yourself in a lot of trouble.”

“And us, too,” added Bob.

“Yeah, you’ve got to leave the investigation to the police,” said Ted.

Lucy didn’t much like this united front of male opposition. “You know, I am a grown-up,” she said. “I don’t need a bunch of men telling me what I should and shouldn’t do.”

“Right,” Pam said, chiming in. “You guys are acting like male chauvinist you-know-whats.”

“I think we should all have a glass of wine and let Lucy relax,” suggested Rachel. “Let’s all try to relax.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” said Lucy. Her feet were now aching, as well as her back, and she was dying to sit down. She had almost reached one of the sofas when there was a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” Rachel wondered aloud. “Did Sue and Sid forget their keys?”

“I’ll get it,” said Pam, opening the door and revealing Madame Defarge, neat as ever in her usual twinset, skirt, and pumps.

“Bonjour,” she began in a formal tone. “I am so sorry to disturb you.”