“Good afternoon, Frau Hoffmann,” Estelle said, blinking rapidly. “Has something happened? Is something wrong? Is there an attack? I try to listen for the planes but I always worry that—”

“It’s her,” the woman said waspishly, speaking in German. She swatted her daughter’s hand away from the string of pearls at her throat. “Arrest her. She’ll be the one.”

“What is happening?’ Estelle asked again, feigning fearful confusion. “Who are you?”

“Scharführer Schwarz.” He pinned Estelle with cold blue eyes. “It took you a long time to answer the door, Mademoiselle.”

“You scared me. What is happening?”

The sergeant pushed his way into Estelle’s apartment. “A woman and a man were seen entering this building. Traitors.” He advanced farther. “We suspect they are hiding somewhere. We are checking all the apartments.”

“You think they’re still here?” Estelle wrapped her hands around her waist. “Are they very dangerous?”

“The enemy is always dangerous.” He paused. “Do you live alone, mademoiselle?”

“Yes.”

“I hear things coming from this apartment when she’s not there, you know.” Frau Hoffmann was standing just outside Estelle’s door, nearly shouting to be heard. “There is someone living in there with her.”

The hair rose at the back of her neck at the idea of the woman listening at her door. Listening for Aviva.

“I can assure you that I don’t have anyone living with me. Perhaps it is the sounds from the street you hear. Or perhaps the apartment below.”

“And I hear her come in late sometimes.” Frau Hoffmann was not to be deterred. “When I’m up with the baby. Past curfew. Sometimes she’s with someone. I can hear voices.”

Schwarz went to the window and drew the curtains aside with the barrel of his pistol, peering down. “Is this true?” he asked.

“That I come in late? Of course it’s true,” Estelle said. “But I have a pass. And often an escort home.”

“What?”

Estelle chose her words carefully. “I sing at the Ritz. Occasionally a cabaret if there is a special performance. I can show you my papers.”

That stopped the sergeant. “I remember you.”

“Oh?” Estelle blinked.

“I’ve seen you sing. And dally with the Luftwaffe officers at the Ritz.”

“I merely try to offer a little entertainment. A distraction for those missing their families and their homes.”

Schwarz sneered. “I’m sure you do.”

“If you need proof of my passes, you may ask Colonel Meyer. He is the one who makes such arrangements for me.”

“Colonel Meyer?”

“Yes,” she chirped. “I had dinner with him just last week.”