The Geneva Decision Read Free Page B

to prejudice your intake of the evidence. Compartmentalize your theories until you have something solid to back them up.”
    “That wasn’t solid?”
    “No,” Jonelle said. “But as theories go, not bad.”
    “What’s your theory, then?”
    “I don’t have one. But I do have statistics, and those show that the vast majority of murders involve a family member. On top of that, women are involved in most noncontact murders like poisoning and assassination. I’d take a close look at the wife.”
    Jonelle turned in a slow circle, looked up at the buildings, roof lines, the doors of restaurants and shops that opened into the lane.
    Pia looked at the same buildings, unsure what a hiding place might look like. Still close to the hotel, they were surrounded by offices closed for the night. Few places to hide. They walked up Rue Sismondi, working a grid uphill from the lake.
    After looking at buildings the others already checked, Pia pulled out her phone and turned to the Internet. Jonelle and Marty kept pacing the grid, their eyes working every door and window. In the space of a city block, the neighborhood changed from tourist shops and cafés to sex shops and bars. A scattering of people strolled on the main streets. They turned down another narrow lane and worked it up to Rue Docteur Alfred-Vincent, then turned uphill again and made their way toward the next cross street, Rue de Berne.
    “We’re trying to keep a low profile here,” Jonelle said. “It’s bad enough that you’re wearing your USA track suit, but put the phone away. You’re lighting up the street and making yourself a target.”
    Pia clicked it off. “I was looking up the Objet Trouvé .”
    “And?”
    “It was hijacked by pirates in Cameroon.”
    Jonelle raised a brow. “Cameroon? Like the bus ticket?”
    Up the hill, Agent Marty gave a low whistle and waved them over. They trotted to his position. From the edge of a building, he pointed down Rue de Berne at a group of narrow storefronts: Cartes Telephoniques, Barillon Hotel, Marrakech, Parfums de Paris, Funny Horse Saloon, Berne Shop.
    Jonelle followed Marty’s gaze, checking the street, turned back to him and nodded. She said, “Worth a look. You take the back.”
    Marty looked right down a long block, then left. And looked back at Jonelle. He shook his head. “No alley. Probably a closed courtyard inside the block. Access could be difficult. Let’s do a walk-by first.”
    Jonelle and Marty turned into the larger street and took the sidewalk opposite the shops.
    Pia tagged along, quiet for a few steps. Then she said, “Wait. What did you see?”

Chapter 4
    Chapter 4
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    20-May, 10PM
    “W e’re looking for an Arab.” Jonelle pointed across the street. “In twelve blocks that’s the only place we’ve seen with Arabic in the window.”
    Pia glanced at the storefront and recognized two words: Marrakech and a huge OUVRET on a sign hung in a darkened window. Was the store open or closed? She crossed the street to have a look. Jonelle hissed her name, calling her back. She kept going—just a closer look from a public sidewalk, no big deal. She cupped her hands on the glass and looked inside. A modest store of fashionable dresses with Arabic motifs. Everything was dark except for a sliver of light coming from the back room.
    She tried the door. It swung open and a bell tinkled. Pia stepped inside.
    Jonelle crossed the street, pushed in behind her and hissed in her ear. “Jesus, what are you doing?”
    Marty crossed to their side, looking left and right as he came.
    Jonelle tiptoed through the small showroom, circling wide around a doorway at the back of the shop and disappeared from Pia’s sight. Light from the street did nothing but create silhouettes and cast shadows. The scent of Arabian jasmine filled the air. Pia found herself standing in the middle of the room, unsure of her next move. Her confidence drained away and left her cold.
    A man’s voice called out in Arabic.
    Her heart