Nicole looked up apprehensively from the laptop computer as Enzo came in. He was, she thought, looking very pleased with himself. For most of the last couple of hours she had been framing in her mind how to tell him that she’d blown his cover at La Croix Blanche and making herself ill at the thought. So it was with some relief that she decided, given his mood, that this was not the moment. ‘You look like the cat that got the cream,’ she said. But he walked straight past the table where she’d set up the computer and took out a marker pen to write Petit up on his board, right below Gil Petty’s name. Then he turned towards her. ‘What does that mean to you?’ She shrugged and frowned her confusion. ‘Petit. Small.’ ‘Yes, but what else?’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea.’ ‘It’s a name, Nicole. Petty’s family name. Petit corrupted to Petty when they emigrated to the United States during the French Revolution.’ Understanding dawned.
