“Hello, my fishy,” Nora said. “You playing with Papa in the pool today?”

“Mama’s taking nap number one,” the little girl said. Edge laughed.

“Céleste, you remember Mr. Tremont, right?” Nora asked her.

“Hello, Miss Céleste,” Cyrus said.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Tremont,” she said. Even Edge grinned at that and kissed his daughter on her forehead.

“Can you do me a favor, sweetheart?” Nora asked. “Can you run into the house with Gmork and change his black collar to his pink collar? He told me he wants to wear pink like you today.”

“Can we dry off first?” Edge said to his daughter. “S’il ti plait?”

“I’ll help.” Nora held out her hands, and Edge passed his daughter to her. With a big pink towel, Nora dried off the girl and sent her scurrying into the house with a playful swat on her tiny pink-clad bottom, the big dog right behind her.

Edge put his hands on the side of the pool and rose up and out of the water. Cyrus breathed a sigh of relief. He’d thought all Europeans wore Speedos, but Edge had on a pair of black swim shorts.

“Mr. Edge—” Cyrus began, but Edge held up a hand. He said something in French to Nora. Nora replied, also in French. Edge nodded. Nora said something else, smiled, then laughed. Edge replied in what Cyrus assumed was a universal language, that of the middle finger. Nora didn’t seem shocked or insulted.

“Sorry,” Nora said to Cyrus. “King, Cyrus Tremont. Cyrus, Kingsley Edge.” Nora waved her hand between them. “Cyrus has a couple quick questions, then we’re leaving. I promise.”

“Get it over with,” Edge said, still dripping wet. He grabbed a towel off the stack and ran it over his wet hair. First, Nora in the bathtub. Now, Edge in the pool. Were these people ever dry?

“I know Nora told you about Father Isaac Murran’s death,” Cyrus began. “And that he called her minutes before his suicide. She doesn’t remember giving anyone in New Orleans her business card. Did you happen to give one of her red cards to anyone down here at any point?”

“What was the number?” Edge asked.

“My 3969 number,” Nora said.

“That was after you quit working for me,” Edge said.

“Right,” Nora said, nodding. “I had a different number when I was an Edge Enterprises employee.” Cyrus jotted that down his black reporter notebook. “But I quit working for him and went solo—stopped seeing almost all my clients but for a handful of favorites. That lasted about two years, then we moved down here.”

“When was that exactly?” Cyrus asked, though he already knew the answer from Nora. Just wanted to make sure…

“We bought this house…” Edge said, pausing to think. “…November, three years ago. Elle bought hers in December, same year. Yes?”

“Right,” Nora said.

“I’d guess you came down here to house hunt before buying the place,” Cyrus said.

“Of course,” Edge said.

“Any chance you gave someone down here Nora’s card during those trips?”