A man wearing a Brazilian soccer T-shirt answered. After a few brief words, both he and the lady shut the door and were in the house for about twenty minutes. Then the red-haired woman emerged, folding her arms in front of her and scurrying back to Émile’s old house. Ben and Lara had to scramble ahead of her to avoid detection.

Ben wrote the address on a piece of paper. “We’ll ask Barrow to find out who lives there. My bet is that painting is one in of those two houses. They just didn’t know it was valuable.”

“But how could they not know?” Lara placed her hands on her hips and paced the street before gathering her long hair up and twisting it into a hair tie. “Montparnasse was swimming with famous painters. Surely an old painting would at least get you thinking.” It was a bit of a letdown to come away with nothing. She sighed, frustrated.

“You didn’t really think we’d just storm in there and come out with a painting, did you, Nancy Drew?” He was amused.

“No…” But her face gave her away. “Yes,” she admitted, and fanned herself from the heat with her hand.

“Leads don’t work like that. You plant the seed. Trust me, we put something into motion here.”

Lara smiled and looked up at him. “You’re kind of brilliant for a policeman with no crime to fight.”

“I know,” he said with a chuckle. “Where to next?”

It wasn’t Lara who answered; it was the voice in her head.

Can we go to the Rue Mouffetard?

“Maybe we can go to the Rue Mouffetard?” said Lara, echoing her head.

“The market?” Ben shrugged. “Sure.”

They spent the day retracing Cecile’s old steps. Lara felt like a tour guide, feeling a rush of joy as Cecile revisited every location. Lara could feel the disappointment as they visited Les Halles, the market Cecile had remembered, now gone. Despite the magical day, she kept looking over her shoulder and searching the crowd for anyone who might be Esmé.

Later the group gathered at a little restaurant, Drouant, near the Paris Opera House for a final dinner. The night was warm but a thunderstorm was threatening, so they chose a table under the beige awning and hoped for the best. Gaston ordered a bottle of Meursault and a northern Rhône Syrah to get them started.