Janet nodded. She’d already decided that she couldn’t tell the police about Edward’s former job, but that didn’t mean she was simply going to give up, at least not yet. “He didn’t take his mobile phone,” she said.
Inspector Caron raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps he has a second phone. Some people have more than one, maybe one for work and one for personal things.”
“So you won’t do anything?” she asked, feeling another tear slide down her cheek.
“I can take your name and his name,” he said. “If he is still not returned by tomorrow, we can do more.”
“I’m Janet Markham Bennett,” she said. “My husband is Edward Bennett.”
“And your hotel?”
Janet named it.
He looked up at her. “I’m told it’s a lovely hotel,” he said. “And very expensive.”
She shrugged. “Edward made all of the arrangements.”
“And this Edward, he is older or younger?”
“Than me? He’s older, but only by a few years.”
“And the money, it is his?”
She nodded. “He’s paying for the honeymoon.”
“I see,” the inspector said, making a note.
Janet felt herself blushing under his scrutiny. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting that she’d married Edward for his money, could he?
“And you married just yesterday?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Where was the wedding?”
“In Doveby Dale in Derbyshire,” she replied. “That’s where I live.”
“Derbyshire?” he repeated. “Some distance from London, then. How did you get to Paris?”
“Edward had a car take us to Heathrow and we flew to Paris from there.”
“And then another car met you at the airport here?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And you went to bed together?”
Janet blushed and looked down at the table. “Yes.”
“Was there any arguing between you, either yesterday or today?”
Janet shook her head. “We didn’t argue last night, and Edward was gone when I woke up this morning.”
He made another note. “You have been married before?”
“No, never. Edward had never been married before, either.”
“That’s unusual at your age,” the man said, scribbling something on his paper.
Janet thought about explaining how much she’d loved her job and how, when she’d been younger, women were expected to quit working once they’d married. She’d simply never met a man who’d been able to persuade her to give up the career she loved. Instead, she shrugged and then went back to staring at the table.
“I will get more information from you tomorrow,” he said, getting to his feet. “For today, I think I should speak to the manager at your hotel.”
Janet stood up. “The manager at the hotel?” she echoed.
He nodded. “He may be able to help.”
He escorted her back to the lift and then out of the building.
“How did you arrive here?” he asked her.
“I walked.”
“Then we can walk back,” he suggested. “It’s not too cold for December.”
She nodded and then turned and began a slow stroll back towards her hotel. Inspector Caron fell into step next to her.
“So how did you meet her husband?” he asked.
His tone was casual, but Janet still felt as if the policeman was formally interviewing her. “He came to stay at the bed and breakfast that my sister and I own,” she told him.
“How long ago was that?” was the next question.
“Two and a half years ago or so.”
“That’s quite a long courtship.”
She shrugged. “He was still working, mostly in London, for most of that time. He didn’t propose until after he’d retired.”
“And what did he do before he retired?”
Janet frowned. There was no way she was going to tell the policeman that Edward had been a spy. “He worked for the government,” she said after an awkward pause.
“And here we are,” Inspector Caron said, stopping in front of the hotel where Janet was staying. “Let’s see if the manager can help in any way.”
“Ah, good afternoon,” he greeted the man behind the desk.
Janet was surprised to see that it was the same man who’d welcomed her and Edward the previous evening. “But you were here last night,” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “One of our front desk staff is unwell. I’ve been working nearly around the clock lately.”
“So you were here when this lady arrived last night?” the inspector asked.
“Yes, of course. Ms. Markham arrived some time after midnight,” he replied.
“And she arrived with her husband?” was the next question.
The man behind the desk frowned. “Ms. Markham arrived alone,” he said, sounding confused.
Janet gasped. “I most certainly did not,” she said stoutly.
The inspector and the man behind the desk exchanged glances.
“Are you quite certain she was alone?” the policeman asked in French.
“Yes, definitely,” was the reply, also in French.
The pair had a lengthy conversation, entirely in French, presumably assuming that Janet couldn’t understand them.
They seemed to be agreeing between themselves that Janet either was confused or that she’d done something horrible to her husband before she’d arrived in Paris and was now trying to report him missing there to make herself look innocent. The man behind the desk argued that poor Janet was simply tired and confused, alone in a country where she didn’t speak the language. The inspector, on the other hand, seemed increasingly certain that Janet was up to no good.
As she stood there, Janet thought back through her arrival the previous evening. Surely the hotel had security cameras, she thought.
“Do you have security cameras?” she asked during a gap in the conversation. She spoke in English, not wanting them to know that she could understand everything that was being said.
“We do, but they don’t record. They simply show our security team what is happening in various places around the building,” she
