AL01 - Murder in the Marais

'Knew what?'

'That her parents had saved her.'

Aimee remembered her own mother's note taped to their front door: 'Gone for a few days—Stay with Sophie next door until daddy comes home.' She'd never returned. But how awful to come home from school and find your whole family gone!

'Your mother stayed here, a young girl by herself?'

He nodded. 'For a while with the concierge's help. She never talked about the rest of the war.'

Aimee hesitated, then pulled out the photo image she'd deciphered for Soli Hecht. 'Do you recognize this?'

He stared intently. After a moment, he shoved a pile of invoices aside to reveal a group of faded old photos on the wood-paneled wall. There was a blank spot.

He shook his head. 'There was a photo here. Similar, but no Nazis. Maman hated Nazis. Never touched anything German.'

Abraham jiggled the bottom desk drawer open. Inside were several empty envelopes addressed to the Centre de Documentation Juive Contemporaine, the Contemporary Jewish Center, at 17 rue Geoffrey l'Asnier, 75004 Paris.

'She donated to their Holocaust fund.' He stood up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 'I can't think of anything else.' He shook his head. 'I don't believe the past has anything to do with this.'

More than ever, Aimee wanted to tell him about Soli Hecht. However, the last thing she wanted was to put Abraham in any danger.

He threw up his hands. 'I can't believe she would have gotten involved in some operation. But she did mention recently she had been seeing ghosts.'

'The antiterrorist squad. . .'

He interrupted her. 'I don't want trouble, I live here,' he said. 'What about the present. . .the massacres in Serbia? I'm sick of the past, it's over. Nothing will bring her back.'

She felt his denial was to avoid pain. Something she had tried to do with her own father's death.

Outside in the light well, a black crow, shiny as licorice, cawed incessantly. She stroked the crocheted bedspread, brushing against the knitting basket, and stopped. A scrap of paper in bold, angular handwriting was stuck in the variegated wool.

'What's this?'

He shrugged.

She carefully spread the wrinkled paper. On it, colors were listed in a row with check marks next to them:

navy blue ivory

dark green

Scribbled on the side were the names. Soli H, Sarah,

She stopped. Soli Hecht? That name triggered questions about the encrypted photo. More important, she wondered what the photo would have told Lili Stein.

Arrows from the names went off the torn page. She hesitated whether to tell Abraham Stein about Hecht. 'Recognize these names?'

Abraham looked puzzled. 'I don't know, maybe members of the synagogue.'

Before he could say more, there was a faint knock on the open door. She looked up to see a white-haired woman apologetically beckoning to him.

'I'm sorry'—she motioned helplessly with gnarled hands—'but Sinta wants you. More visitors have come.'

Abraham nodded. 'Thank you, Rachel.' He turned to Aimee. 'This is Rachel Blum, Maman's friend. Why don't you speak with her while I go to my wife.' He left to meet the visitors.

Rachel's hair was stretched tightly back in a bun. Her black dress had a faint odor of lavender mixed with mothballs. She sank down onto the bed, her slightly stooped frame still bent. Sliding off her shoe and rubbing her foot, she sighed. 'Bunions! Doctor wants to fix them, but no thank you, no knife for me, I told him. They've carried me this far, they'll carry me the rest of the way.'

Aimee nodded sympathetically.

'Lili had no time for fools—I'm like that myself. I lived in Narbonne until my sister passed away last year. Then I decided to come back to the Marais.'

'How long had you known her?' Aimee ventured.

Rachel squinted in thought. 'Too long.'

'Rachel, do you recognize this snapshot?' Aimee asked, passing it to her.

'My glasses, where are they? Can't see without them.' Rachel scrabbled down around her neck. 'Must be at home.'

Aimee reached for a pair of readers from the top of Lili's desk.

Rachel grunted, 'That's better.' She squinted through Lili's reading glasses. 'Hmm, what's this?'

'Anything look familiar, Rachel?'

A wistful look came over her. 'The Square Georges-Cain. A lifetime ago.' She sighed, then indicated some figures near a tree. 'Our school uniform. See the smocks,' and she pointed to a girl turned away from the camera.

Rachel seemed grateful to be resting her feet and exercising her mouth. She was vigorously rubbing her other foot now.

'Did you and Lili go to school together during the war?'

Something shuttered behind Rachel's eyes and she turned away. Aimee knew that look, a deliberately vacant stare that came into old people's eyes when the war was mentioned. Rachel shrugged and didn't answer.

Aimee sat down on the bed next to her and smiled. 'Were you in class together?'

'Lili was younger than me. I didn't have much to do with her.'

'Didn't you know her parents?'

'I'm only half Jewish,' Rachel said. 'Am I supposed to know everybody? A lot of people disappeared.'

Why had Rachel become defensive?

A tingle went up her spine, the same tingling she'd felt when she'd made that promise to Hecht. She edged closer to the old woman and lowered her voice confidentially.

'Rachel, she looked up to you, didn't she?'

Rachel looked surprised but not displeased. 'I'm not sure. . .'

She kept going. 'Have I embarrassed you, Rachel? You know how schoolgirls idolize older girls!'

Rachel shook her head slightly and paused. 'I vaguely remember her father. He came back after the war.'

Aimee noticed that Rachel's gaze was focused on the window crisscrossed with crime-scene tape. So there was something, Aimee thought, her heart starting to pound.

'Why did Lili board up the window, Rachel?'

A stony look came over Rachel's face. 'The winter of 1943 was cold. No one had coal for heat.'

'Lili boarded up the window for warmth?' Aimee said. 'But she wasn't here during the whole war, was she?'

'Water froze in the pipes,' Rachel said woodenly.

Aimee prayed for patience. 'Wasn't it hard for Lili here after her parents were taken?'

'We chipped ice off the fountains. Boiled it for cooking and washing,' Rachel continued.

'What about Lili?'

'She stayed with the concierge. Downstairs when. . .' Rachel stopped and covered her mouth.

Aimee leaned forward and gripped Rachel's arm.

'Go ahead, Rachel, what were you about to say?'

Aimee was surprised to see fear in Rachel's eyes.

'Why are you afraid?'

Rachel nodded and spoke slowly. 'You think I'm just a silly old woman.'

'No, Rachel. Not at all.' Aimee reached for her hand and held it.