“I wasn’t brave,” she said. “I slunk into town. I was terrified the press would find out I was there, so I stayed under my maiden name. Now it looks like I did it so no one would connect me to his murder. I cornered him at the casino he was gambling at, and we fought. It seems Alfred has found witnesses. Alain was killed later the same night, flush with his winnings from the table. He didn’t usually have very good luck, gambling, but I guess that night was different.”

She paused, hugging herself tighter. “One of the robbers was probably in the casino, watching him, watching us.” She looked away, surprised at the emotion welling in her throat. She’d hated the man, so why did she still feel emotion at his death? “That was the last time I saw him, sitting in the dining room of the casino, dressed in formal wear and backed by an enormous and truly terrible painting of Leda and the Swan. I read the rest from the papers. He left the casino late in the evening. His body was found the next morning, about a block away, a few feet from a refuse pile, with no money and no valuables on it.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

She shrugged. “He wasn’t a good person. I don’t mourn him.”

“I’m sorry it happened to you. I’m sorry he still hurts you, even after his death.”

She stayed silent, looking at the fabric of her skirts.

“But it doesn’t add up to murder, Alva.”

“I was there,” she said. “I was seen with him a few hours before the murder. Our separation was sensational when it happened, and I featured prominently as a sort of voracious, passionate vampire. No one would have trouble believing I killed him, if they were able to place me near the crime, and the money was more than enough motive. I doubt there’d be any formal charges, but the rumor would be enough to finish off my reputation. Book contract, gone. Last contacts in society, gone. Chance for redemption, gone.”

“But you didn’t do it!”

His outrage made her smile. “I didn’t entertain four different men at a time in my Paris apartment, either,” she said. “The truth doesn’t always matter.”

“We’ll fight it,” he said. “We’ll make those liars eat their words. We’ll sue them for libel—Henry will love it.”

“We’re not going to do anything,” she said. “I probably am going to sue for libel, after he goes to the press. It’s going to be a horrible, ugly mess, and the only thing it’ll accomplish at the end is that I’ll know I finally fought back. You aren’t going to be involved.”

“Like hell,” he said. “Damn it, Alva, look at me.”