“Not at all,” said Pam. “Come in. We were just about to have an aperitif.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. I am just here to deliver some papers to you.” Her voice became quite frosty. “From the police.”

“Really?” Bob stepped forward. “I’ll take them. It’s probably our passports.”

“Perhaps, monsieur,” said Madame Defarge, giving him a thick envelope, “but I don’t think so.”

“Well, thank you for your trouble. Are you sure you won’t join us for a glass of wine?” asked Bob.

“Thank you, but no,” she said. “I must go.”

Pam had just closed the door behind her when Bob ripped open the envelope, pulling out a sheaf of white papers.

“Not passports,” said Ted.

“No,” answered Bob, studying the printed documents. “My French isn’t very good, but these seem to be orders to return to police headquarters for more questioning.. . .”

“We’ve done that,” fretted Rachel. “What could they possibly want now?”

“I’m not sure, but I have an idea,” said Bob. “Does mort mean what I think it does?”

“It means ‘dead,’ ” said Lucy.

“Well, then, we’re in big trouble, because Chef Larry est mort.”

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Dead? How could that be? thought Lucy, struggling to comprehend the terrible news. She had just seen him a few hours ago, and he’d been very much alive. Not in great shape, but definitely alive and on the road to recovery.

“That’s terrible! Poor Chef Larry!” exclaimed Sue when she heard the news, dropping full plastic shopping bags on the marble island. Tears sprang from her eyes, and she fumbled in her purse, producing a cute vintage handkerchief picturing poodles and the Eiffel Tower.

“I didn’t think you thought very much of Chef Larry, rest his soul,” said Rachel.

“I definitely had that impression, too,” added Lucy.

“Oh, he wasn’t much of a chef,” said Sue, blowing her nose, “but the classes were fun, weren’t they?”

“I guess,” said Sid. “Personally, I was kind of relieved when we didn’t have to go to the cooking classes. . . .” Sue gave him a look, and he quickly added, “But I’m really sorry he died. I mean, I didn’t wish him any harm. He seemed like a really nice guy.”

“I’ve got to call Sidra,” said Sue, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. “I’m sure Norah will want to know.”

“Why do you think that?” asked Lucy.

“Well, it was obvious, wasn’t it? Chef Larry was one of her protégés. That’s why she included the cooking classes in the trip.”

“I think I saw him on one of her shows,” said Pam. “He made crepes.”