Murder in the Latin Quarter by Susan Kiernan-Lewis Page A

jagged from his left eye to the tip of his chin—a reminder of his years on the run.
    Because of her.
    He turned and began coughing into his hands until he saw blood on his palms and the proprietor of the souvenir shop came out to wave him away. He staggered into the street, wiping the blood from his lips and looking at the building where she had entered.
    He’d be back.
    After everything she’d done to him. After everything she’d taken from him.
    He would definitely be back.

10
    D elphine stood at the window and looked down the narrow road as it spilled out into the small park. She suddenly caught sight of Maggie, walking through the park pushing the stroller.
    Even from this distance Delphine could see how confidently Maggie moved. She noticed the dinner bag Maggie carried and hoped she thought to get wine. Being the wife of a vigneron , Delphine imagined that would be second nature by now.
    Amazing. Laurent a respectable vigneron . It was an image that wouldn’t fully form in her mind. A husband and father? And yet Maggie seemed an intelligent girl. Surely, she wouldn’t have married a hoodlum. Delphine was trying to remember the last time she’d seen Laurent when the phone rang. She hesitated.
    Twice last week there had been a late evening call and a hang up. She moved to the living room and picked up the telephone receiver.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œWell, you sound good,” Victor said into the line. “But I am shocked you are not in bed. Do the police have any clues at all?”
    Delphine sat on the couch. “I am fine, Victor. The police believe it was a burglary.”
    â€œWas anything stolen?”
    â€œNot that I can see. Poor Isla must have interrupted him before he could take anything.”
    â€œAnd so he killed her? Does that make sense?”
    â€œI know very little of these things, Victor,” Delphine said, her good mood beginning to deflate. “I just know what the police told me.”
    â€œAre you sure you’re up for the party?
    Delphine shifted the phone to her other shoulder. “Yes, I am looking forward to it. Very much. Stop worrying.”
    â€œI don’t like you alone there. Would you like for me to sleep in your guest room until you find another nurse?”
    â€œI have a friend staying with me.”
    Victor dropped the phone on his end and Delphine nearly laughed out loud.
    â€œFriend? What friend?” he sputtered.
    â€œIt is the wife of my nephew.”
    â€œNoel Lorraine?”
    â€œNo, chèri , my grand -nephew Laurent Dernier. He has a vineyard near Aix and an American wife. Can you imagine?”
    â€œHow did that happen?”
    â€œThe wife? Or my meeting her?”
    â€œBoth, I suppose.”
    â€œThe hospital called my nephew when I became ill this week.”
    â€œI am not listed as your emergency contact?”
    â€œOf course not, Victor. And since Laurent’s wife was in Paris visiting …”
    â€œAn American, you say?”
    â€œYes, but she’s absolutely charming, and oh, Victor! She has my great grandniece with her!”
    Victor laughed and she felt all the tension leave the conversation.
    What was it about babies that just made everything better?
    â€œA baby in the house,” he said. “Yes, that is the best medicine of all. I must meet them.”
    â€œYou will. She’s coming to my birthday party. You’ll meet her then.”
    â€œI’m relieved you have someone with you,” Victor said, “if disappointed that it cannot be me.”
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    S he had made a good choice with the Thai food, Maggie thought proudly. Like most French people, Delphine was culinarily adventuresome and clapped her hands with delight as Maggie set out the cartons of Pad Thai, panang curry and jasmine rice on her antique dining room table. Mila, having eaten earlier, dozed sleepily in her carrier on the chair next to Maggie’s.
    â€œIt is a feast,” Delphine