“Edith Piaf. She was a French cabaret singer in the 1940s and ’50s. She had one of those voices that makes you think of Montmartre and smoke-filled clubs where everyone drinks whiskey or absinthe. My mother used to play her music all the time.”

“Why did you ask Victoria about her perfume?”

“I smelled it in the elevator when I took it back to the main floor the first time I left Prescott,” I said. “The funny thing is, I didn’t have to call the elevator to the basement. It was already waiting. So either she took it downstairs for some reason, or she took it to one of the upper floors and when she was finished, she sent it back to the basement.”

“Huh. Maybe she went upstairs to, you know, powder her nose. Or use the bathroom.”

“First of all, no woman powders her nose anymore. Second, if she did go upstairs, don’t you think it’s odd the elevator was waiting in the basement?”

“Well, then, whatever it is you do with your makeup when you need to fix something. And, like you said, she could have sent it back downstairs after she used it.”

“Except people don’t usually do that.”

“So what are you saying?”

“That it’s more likely she took it downstairs.”

“And did what?”

“Unless she wanted to go swimming or bowling or get something out of the storage rooms, I’d say she wanted to talk to Prescott,” I said.

“You didn’t run into her.”

“No, but you saw what a maze it’s like down there. Maybe she wanted to wait until I left.”

“So she waited somewhere out of sight until you were gone and then went to see Prescott?” He paused. “Don’t you think that sounds a bit far-fetched?”

It did.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m certain she used the elevator.”

“Right. Okay, suppose she did go to see Prescott. Do you think she was with him when he fell?”

“If she was, you’d think that she would have gone for help. Since she didn’t, I’d say he was still alive, still fine,” I said. “The two of them chatted, she left, and then he fell and hit his head.”

Quinn started the Jeep. “Okay, she waited downstairs until you were gone, had a quick word with Prescott about something, and then she left? It couldn’t have taken long if you saw her upstairs with Clayton, right?”

“Yes … I suppose … or maybe you are right. Maybe she didn’t go down there.” My what-ifs were seeming more and more implausible.