“Oh, dear,” she said. “I’ve been a fool, haven’t I? So na?ve of me. Now that I think about it, he played me beautifully. He got me to say the name of my relatives, to give their history. I fed him all the information he needed to make his claim. How stupid of me.” She shook her head angrily.
“He was a very appealing young man,” I said. “And Gus had a handsome cousin here. Perhaps you wanted one too.”
This made her laugh. But then she said, “So he was the young Jewish man they saw running away from Reynold Bryce’s house, and all this time I thought it was me.”
I nodded.
“Why did he kill Mr. Bryce? Because he insulted Jews?”
“That was only part of the reason. The young refugee girl I told you about is his sister. Reynold Bryce had a predilection for young girls. He was painting her and then he couldn’t keep his hands off her. When Maxim went to confront him Bryce was most insulting—not only about Jews but also about his painting. In fact he told Maxim that he’d only promised to include his paintings in the exhibition because he wanted Maxim’s sister. The knife was lying there on the table. Maxim was in a blind rage.”
“So he didn’t mean to kill Reynold Bryce,” Sid said. “He wasn’t a natural killer.”
“He meant to kill me,” I said. “He had a knife pressed into my side and was trying to drag me into the middle of the cemetery, but Monsieur Degas came by. I shouted out to him and managed to escape. I got a little cut as I wrenched myself away.”
“A little cut? It looks awful.” Sid took my hand. “Molly, you’re so brave. And you’ve saved my life. I thought I was headed for the guillotine. I’m not allowed to hug you, I suppose.”
“Probably not.” I looked down at the strapping at my waist then squeezed her hand.
“What can I do to make it up to you?” Sid asked.
I looked at her fondly. “You and Gus have done plenty for me over the years. You don’t need to make it up to me. But just don’t disappear and scare me again!”
Postscript
Maxim Noah, or rather Jakob Klein, was apprehended by police as he attempted to board a train from Paris. Inspector Henri came later that afternoon to give me the news.
“You should have heeded my warning, madame, and left police work to the police,” he said, looking at my white face. “You nearly paid for your curiosity with your life. This Jakob Klein, he fought like a tiger. A dangerous man.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wanted justice. And I did not think I was putting myself in danger. My husband tells me I am too reckless.”
“He is right. But it is a pity you are a married woman, Madame Sullivan. You are a good detective. You took the pieces of the puzzle and put them together.”
“Only with luck,” I said, diplomatically.
“Do not count on luck to aid you every time,” he wagged a finger at me, but he managed the ghost of a smile as he left me.
I spent a week in bed, being horribly spoiled by my friends, and then finally I was able to enjoy doing all the things a tourist does in Paris. I went to visit Madeleine and we spent some pleasant afternoons together. After I recovered Sid and Gus found a new apartment, this time on the Left Bank near Saint-Germain-des-Prés. Gus went back to her painting, but it seemed her heart was no longer in it. She confided that she realized she wasn’t as talented as she had thought and she missed New York. I wrote regularly to Daniel and received regular, if brief, replies. Rebuilding on our house had begun. In the meantime he had taken an apartment in Chelsea, but was waiting for me to choose most of the furnishings. He regretted not being there to see Liam take his first steps or say his first words.
Then a week or so after all this excitement I was wheeling Liam through the Jardin du Luxembourg when I heard my name being called. I looked up to see Miss Pinkerton and the other ladies bearing down on me.
“What a lovely coincidence meeting you here, Mrs. Sullivan,” Miss Pinkerton said, beaming at me. “Miss Hetherington and I wondered whether you were still in Paris. We’ve just arrived from Vienna. Isn’t it magnificent? By far the most beautiful city we’ve seen although I did develop a fondness for Venice. How have you been enjoying your stay here and have you had a good relaxing time? You looked rather peaky when we last saw you.”
“A good relaxing time”? I managed a smile. “It’s been most interesting,” I replied and watched them scurry on their way to Les Invalides.
Days passed. We settled into a routine while Sid and Gus discussed going home or going on to Vienna to meet Professor Freud whose work Gus much admired. Then, one hot day in July, a letter came from Daniel saying that the commissioner had been forced to release the leader of the Cosa Nostra, since nobody could be found to testify against him. He believed that this relieved the threat against us and the most sensible course was to come to terms with the Italian gang. He was booking our passage home and suggested we spend the rest of the summer with his mother, who had returned from her adventure out West saying she’d had a taste of travel, and there was no place like Westchester County.