Lucie had lost a lot of time in traffic jams trying to leave Greater Reims, so it was getting on to the end of the afternoon when she skirted Chantilly, famous for its château, its racetrack, and its golf courses. After a few more miles, she parked in the graveled driveway of a large private house set back from the road, just behind a huge Audi and a Mercedes convertible. A man with graying hair stopped trimming the rose bushes and came up to her. After Lucie showed him her fake ID and said she wanted to talk to Mme. Lecoupet about a case involving her first husband, he pointed Lucie toward the residence without a word. His lack of commentary suggested that neither he nor his wife had been notified of Terney’s death, nor had the cops from number 36 yet delved this far into the past in their search for his killer. The mistress of the house was standing in a large covered porch that was filled with climbing plants and about a dozen cats of various breeds and colors.
