While I waited for Pianelli, I picked up his book and was yet again struck by the photograph on the cover: Vinca and Alexis Clément on a dance floor. It had been taken in mid-December, a week before Alexis was murdered and Vinca disappeared. I had always found it painful to look at. Captured at the height of her innocence, her beauty, Vinca was gazing at her partner. Her eyes were filled with love, admiration, and a feverish desire to please. As the pair of them danced the twist, the photographer froze them forever in a graceful, sensual pose. It was like Grease photographed by Robert Doisneau.

Who had taken the photograph? I had never thought to wonder before now. A student? A teacher? I looked for a photo credit on the back of the book, but it simply said © Nice-Matin, all rights reserved. I used my camera to take a picture of the cover and texted it to Rafael Bartoletti, a celebrated fashion photographer who lived on the same street as me in Tribeca. The man was an artist. He had a comprehensive knowledge of photography, an eye that noticed even the tiniest detail, and a way of analyzing things that was singular and remarkable. For years, he had taken all of my promotional photographs and those that appeared on the dust jackets of my books. I loved his work because he always managed to find in me an innocence that I might have had a lifetime ago but had lost. His portraits depicted a better me, happier, less tortured, the man I might have been if life had been kinder.

Rafael called me right away. He spoke French with a slight Italian accent that many people found irresistible.

“Ciao, Thomas. I’m in Milan doing a shoot for Fendi. Who’s the beauty in the photograph you just sent me?”

“A girl I was in love with long ago. Vinca Rockwell.”

“I remember—you’ve talked about her.”

“What do you think of the photograph?”

“Did you take it?”

“No.”

“Technically, it’s a little out of focus, but the photographer certainly knew how to capture a moment. That’s all that matters. The decisive moment. You know what Cartier-Bresson said: ‘Photography must seize upon the moment at which the elements in motion are in balance.’ Well, your guy did that. He captured a fleeting moment and transformed it for all eternity.”

“You always say that there is nothing more deceptive than a photograph.”

“And that’s true!” Rafael said. “But I don’t see any contradiction.”

On the other end of the line, someone turned up the music. I heard a woman’s voice urging Rafael to hang up.

“Gotta go,” he said. “I’ll call you back.”