AL01 - Murder in the Marais

still lived on rue des Rosiers. I followed her. But I couldn't deal with the past.'

Aimee asked, 'You followed her?'

'She'd been terrified during the Occupation. Filled with jealousy and loathing toward me. Being young, I didn't realize that; I believed Lili abandoned me when she escaped Paris.'

She shook her head. 'But that day we bumped into each other at the cobbler's. Somehow I got the courage and told her who I was. Jew to Jew, for the first time, we talked. Then she told me about Laurent.'

'Laurent?' Aimee said. She felt confused.

'She was afraid of Laurent,' Sarah said.

Aimee shook her head. 'Who's Laurent?'

'That troublemaker from Madame Pagnol's class so many years ago!' Sarah said. 'Rumor had it he informed on parents of children he didn't like. A vicious type. Lili said she'd recognized him and had gone to talk with Soli Hecht.'

Aimee stood up and started pacing, her high-heeled pumps crunching loose plastic chips and partial button forms on the floor. 'You mean, Lili had recognized Laurent. Now. . .in the present day?'

Sarah rubbed her tired eyes. 'Soli Hecht advised her to keep it quiet,' she said. 'Until he could come up with evidence. Documentation or something to do with her concierge. Help her prove that he wasn't who he said he was. Expose his identity.'

'Wait a minute. Who is he?' Aimee said. She thought back to Soli's dying words. Lo. . .l'eau. 'Who are we talking about?'

Sarah shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'Let me understand this,' Aimee said and stood up. 'Lili, using Soli Hecht's help, was about to expose Laurent, a former collaborator, who had hidden his identity. But why wouldn't she tell you who he is?' Aimee began pacing back and forth.

'Lili was getting nervous, then acting almost as if she didn't know me,' Sarah said. 'That's when she turned abruptly, said she was being followed. Later, after I picked up the dry cleaning, I saw her. She grabbed me, I don't know why, then ran away before I could talk to her.'

'That's when the button came off the Chanel suit and got tangled in her bag,' Aimee said, pacing faster now. 'Did your conversation occur at the cobbler's?'

'No, outside, near the corner of the alley,' Sarah said.

'What time?'

'Just before six, I think.'

'You're in greater danger than I thought,' Aimee said, unable to stop pacing. She had the pieces now to fit in the puzzle.

'Why?' Sarah mumbled. 'Is it my son?'

'That's a separate issue. He abhors the fact that you are Jewish because it means he is too.'

'Is Helmut after me?'

Of course, now it all made sense. Hartmuth was Helmut Volpe.

'No, he told me you were in trouble. He's trying to save you. And Lili tried to save you too,' Aimee said.

'What do you mean?'

'From Laurent. Can't you see?' Aimee said, trying to control her excitement but her words spilled out. 'Think about how, as you talked with Lili, she changed. How she pretended not to know you and edge away. He was there, somewhere. She did it so he wouldn't know who you were.' Aimee sat down close to Sarah. 'I promise, he's not going to get you!'

FRIDAY

Friday Morning

HARTMUTH'S NIGHTMARE S WERE FILLED with ice tongs and crying babies. Sleep had eluded him.

There was a slight knock on the door from the adjoining suite. It would be Ilse. He pulled on a robe and shuffled to the door.

'Mein Herr,' Ilse said, her eyes bright as they quickly swept his room. 'You are back! I checked late last night but your room was empty. We missed you!'

Hartmuth forced a grin. 'This rich French food, Ilse, I'm not used to it. If I don't walk, it just curdles in my stomach.'

'Jawohl, you are so right. Myself,' she sidled closer to him, 'I miss our German food. Simple yes, but so good and nutritious.' Without missing a beat, she continued, 'I don't mind telling you, mein Herr, that Monsieur Quimper and Minister Cazaux are of the old school. Because of their sincerity, all the delegates have agreed as of tonight to sign the treaty. But of course, this happens tomorrow at the ceremony. And with your signature to make it unanimous.'

'What time is the ceremony, Ilse?' he said in as businesslike a tone as he could summon.

'Nineteen hundred hours, mein Herr,' and she smiled. 'In time for the CNN worldwide news feed. A nice touch, I thought.' She lumbered to the door. 'Unter den Linden.'

The treaty was as good as signed.

Friday Noon

AIMEE KNOCKED TWICE, THEN again. Slowly, Javel opened the door wearing a tattered undershirt.

'I'm busy,' he said, not smiling. 'There's nothing more to say.'

Aimee put her foot in the door. 'Just a few minutes; it won't take long,' she said and slid through the doorway.

He grudgingly stood aside in the hallway.

'Does this go into your shop?' Aimee said, pointing at a damp, moldly door.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing.

She quickly climbed the three stairs and pushed the door before he could stop her.

'Eh, what are you doing?' he said.

By the time he had painstakingly climbed the steps she was back out the door again and had shot past him down the narrow hallway.

He caught up with her in the parlor and found his tongue. 'You're just a nosy amateur detective running around in circles,' he said.

Aimee stared at him. 'You heard the whole thing, didn't you?'

'What are you talking about?' he asked angrily, gripping the back of his only chair.

'In this shop and around the rue Pavee. The spot's so close I bet you can spit that far,' she said.

He spluttered, his eyes furtive. 'None of this makes any sense. You're all the same!' He hastily shut the drawer in his pine kitchen table and moved to his rocking chair.