Chapters (38)
- Cover
- Also by Philip Kerr
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
“The police found a green chiffon scarf at the scene of the crime,” I said. “Poor Spinola was holding it in his hand when you shot him through the heart at close range. There’s a dress in your closet that’s the perfect match for that chiffon scarf. You wore it one night at La Voile d’Or. Maybe you remember that I picked it up when you dropped it on the ground and gave it back to you. I even caught the name on the label. It was Christian Dior. Same as the dress, I’ll bet money on it. Although not as much as you spent buying it. I’m sure the police will find it very interesting. It’s very hard to shoot someone at close range and not get blood on yourself.”
“I think you’re mistaken.” But her eyes were welling up with tears.
“No, I have a good memory. Believe it or not it’s part of my job to know what a lady is wearing. In case she needs to go shopping for something important. Like a new chiffon scarf. I wouldn’t advise it now. The cops will be paying attention to that kind of thing. In fact, I’d steer clear of most of the expensive ladies’ shops on the Riviera for a while, in case someone remembers you. Besides, green is really not your color, Julia. Take it from me. Blue would be much better on you.”
Julia Rose let out a sigh that sounded like a diver checking his breathing apparatus.
“Oh Jesus Christ,” she whispered. “What am I to do?”
“Do? There’s nothing to do. All you can do now is tell me what happened.”
I let her cry for several minutes.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.
“I can imagine. But you don’t need to apologize to me. Even if he was my bridge partner. And a damn good one, I might add.”
“I loved him. I loved him so much. He was the love of my life. I don’t think I’ll ever get over this as long as I live.”
“I believe you. But how long were you lovers?”
“Three years. I wanted to leave Jack and marry Antimo, who wouldn’t hear of it. He said he couldn’t afford to get married and that he preferred things the way they were. Easy to say if you don’t live with Jack. I told him I didn’t care about money, but he didn’t believe me.