Murder in the Latin Quarter Read Free Page B

the taxi stands outside Charles DeGaulle Airport. He didn’t really have time for this trip but his last conversation with his aunt had worried him. She’d sounded weaker than ever. Something in her voice had convinced him she was declining. In many ways it was what he’d been waiting for. He couldn’t ignore it now.
    Not with so much at stake. Could there be more at stake than one’s own identity ?
    He waited in the taxi queue and scanned the skies over Paris.
    Welcome to springtime in Paris , he thought dismally. Grey clouds ready to burst with rain any moment. He walked to the next taxi in line and climbed in. He was proud of his agility at his age. Seventy-one and still limber enough to carry his own luggage. Some of his friends were hobbling along on walkers at this age or at least used canes. But Noel had taken good care of himself. Always plenty of exercise and he watched his diet.
    And of course thanks to the loving Fouquet sisters, money had never been an issue.
    â€œ Ou vas tu ?” the taxi driver asked.
    â€œ Le Quartier latin ,” Noel said, leaning back into the seat.
    This time he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She wouldn’t turn him away again. Not when time was running out for both of them. What did she possibly have to lose at this point?
    He gripped the handle of his valise, his face falling into tight, tense lines.
    She’s dying anyway . This time, no matter what it takes.
    Delphine will tell me the truth if I have to throttle it out of her.
----

    G race settled into the leather couch of the corner brasserie. Even though it was not yet noon, she ordered a martini. Her hand rested on her cellphone. She’d just disconnected from André. He was late but hurrying toward her even now, striding down the rue Dante. She smiled at the image of him in her mind. His hair dark and wavy around his chiseled perfect cheekbones and eyes as blue as sapphires. She felt a delightful flutter in her stomach and her fingers tightened around the phone as if it was the closest connection she had to him.
    Was there anything more exquisite than anticipation? She looked at the door to the restaurant. He would appear framed in that door at any moment. She would watch him scan the room with expectation—looking for her, hungering for her. She wouldn’t move a muscle; no wave or eyebrow rise would indicate where she was.
    Let him find me as a wolf finds its mate. Let him sense me and be drawn to me.
    Her drink came and she downed it in one long swallow.
    Her skin tingled as she resumed her focus on the door. Was it the alcohol or the anticipation? The sensual tingling, the anticipation…
    Her phone rang and she snatched her hand away as if it burned her.
    Her heart seemed to hiccup in her chest.
    No . He wasn’t calling to cancel. She had just talked to him.
    The screen on her phone showed a smiling photo of her ex-husband Windsor.
    She let out a snort of impatience. Need to make this quick . André will be here any moment.
    â€œYes, Windsor,” she said coolly into the phone. “Now what is it?”
    â€œI was hoping we could do this the friendly way.” Windsor’s voice was soft and so familiar. For a minute, Grace couldn’t believe that this voice she knew so well was connected to the monster who was trying to ruin her life.
    â€œWhat do you want, Windsor? I’m in a meeting.”
    â€œYou haven’t responded to anything my lawyer has sent to you—”
    â€œNor will I.”
    â€œI don’t know why you need to make this as bad as it can be!”
    â€œWhy are you calling?” she said, her eyes going to the door but now fearfully. She didn’t want Windsor to ruin this moment for her. Damn him. He ruined everything.
    â€œI’m giving you a heads up, Grace. Come home with Zouzou or lose her for good. I am not kidding you. You need to quit ignoring—”
    Grace disconnected the phone and set it down on the