She turned away from the view and opened the third drawer in her desk, pulling out a stack of black-and-white photos of Locanda Sordou from the 1960s. Someone had taken color slides too—luckily—and using those, along with vintage magazine articles from Life and Paris Match, she and Max were able ...
Marine yelled down the phone. “Ce n’est pas vrai!” “You don’t have to yell,” Verlaque whispered. He wanted to say, “It happens all the time,” but Marine knew that. They had both heard a report on the radio of a Chinese businessman on his way to Geneva who left a priceless ...
Fabrice yelled into the phone. “I never thought I’d say that about you, Antoine, but you’re a total ass! Christophe just called me; he said that the prosecutor was raking him over the coals.” “I’m sorry, Fabrice,” Verlaque said, “but Christophe’s aunt was murdered on Friday night, and he was disi...