“Those friends of Elizabeth’s. We met them at the birthday party,” added Bill. “What are their names?”

Sid hit REWIND and played the footage again, and a third time.

“Adil and Malik,” said Lucy. “I think that’s them, but why? What were they looking for?”

“Adil and Malik,” repeated Bill. “What the hell?”

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

What on earth were Adil and Malik doing, breaking into their apartment? And what were they looking for? Lucy remembered how their supplies of kitchen staples had been dumped out, as well as Rachel’s creams and bath salts, all clear indications they were definitely searching for something. But what? And why? It was all very strange, very puzzling. “They seemed like such nice boys,” she said, thinking aloud.

“What did you say?” demanded Bill. They were walking along the narrow sidewalks to the rue Saint-Antoine with Ted and Pam, on their way to meet Richard Mason at his favorite seafood place. It was a chance for the journalists to talk shop and for the others to enjoy les fruits de mer.

“I said Adil and Malik seemed like such nice boys, so well mannered,” said Lucy.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think breaking and entering and tossing somebody else’s place is exactly good manners,” said Bill. “The cops left the apartment just as they found it.”

“Rachel said they didn’t seem to find whatever they were looking for,” said Lucy as they turned the corner and encountered an amazing display of fish and shellfish, arranged on a mountain of ice contained in a metal counter, right on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, complete with a waterfall, which provided a cooling backdrop for the fresh seafood.

“It smells like home,” said Lucy, momentarily transported to the fish pier in Tinker’s Cove.

“They’ve got every sort of fish you could imagine,” said Ted. “Look at that red one. I’ve never seen it before. What is it?”

“Orange roughy?” said Lucy, taking a guess. “Red snapper?”

Pam, however, wasn’t quite as taken with the display as the others. “Are we supposed to eat seafood that’s been sitting out here on the street all day?” she asked. “It doesn’t seem very sanitary to me.”

“After eating tête de veau, I think my system can handle just about anything,” said Bill, causing them to laugh.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” asked Richard, joining the group. “I reserved a table, so let’s go on in. It’s my treat,” he announced. “Order whatever you want.”

Richard was known at the restaurant, where he dined often, and was warmly welcomed. The group was immediately seated at a big table by the window and provided with an enormous platter containing all sorts of shellfish: several kinds of oysters, pink crayfish, blue crabs, and enormous shrimp, all artistically arranged and punctuated with lemon slices and bowls of vinaigrette.

“No cocktail sauce?” asked Bill.