She laughs, and I’m not sure if she’s mocking me. Maybe she thinks I’m being over the top. She’s always so bloody calm and composed. ‘I’m serious, Alice.’
When the phone goes dead, I don’t know what to think. I try to ring her back, but her mobile goes straight to voicemail. Perhaps her battery’s flat. I look around the studio. It won’t take her long to get here. I should have told her to tap on the studio windows. That way I’d know it was her. Damn it. She’ll ring the doorbell, and I’ll have to leave the studio to answer it, unsure of who is at the door. I could call out. If anyone other than Alice answers, I won’t open it. I’ll tell them I’m unwell, to call back another time. I check that I still have the knife in my bag. The message in the diary was clear. I look at it again, reading it for the umpteenth time: BE AFRAID. I have no doubt that whoever wrote those words meant them.
BEAUX-ARTS DE PARIS, RUE BONAPARTE
DELPHINE AGER EXCUSED herself before reaching Jacques Guéguen’s rooms, but on the way from Studio Nine, she told Kate and Adam that Jacques lived at the college Monday to Friday, and at weekends he travelled home to his wife and children in Montrouge.
‘What did you think of Delphine?’ Adam asked, once she was out of earshot.
‘I don’t think she’s as confident or as hard as she makes herself out to be.’
‘Interesting about the Irish student.’
‘And surprising the French police never interviewed her.’
‘Perhaps Monsieur Guéguen will shed some light on that.’
‘Delphine said the girl, Sandra, was meek and miserable. That’s a very negative description.’
‘Maybe she was jealous, Kate. I hear women can be.’
‘Jealousy is common in both sexes.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. Shall I do the honours again?’ He knuckled his fist, ready to knock on the door.
‘Off you go. I’m getting used to being your sidekick.’
‘Less of the sarcasm – it doesn’t suit you.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that. Now, stop standing there like an idiot,’ she teased. ‘Knock on the bloody door.’
He did so.
‘Bonjour, entrez, s’il vous pla?t.’
Jacque Guéguen was close to sixty, shorter and more stooped than his superior, Julien Chéry. Kate liked him instantly. He looked comfortable in his skin, and although his rooms weren’t as richly decorated as Chéry’s office, they had a certain charm. He had a fire lit too, always a welcoming sign.
‘Sit down.’ Jacques gestured to two upholstered chairs by the hearth, pulling another over from the corner for himself. ‘I understand you want to talk to me about Pierre Laurent.’
‘That’s right.’ Adam looked relieved not to be sitting on the floor.
‘A troubled young man, but a talented artist – the whole incident was terrible, such a waste.’
‘According to the police report, Jacques, the police believed the murder to be a crime of passion, yet they never found anyone responsible. That’s surprising, don’t you think?’ Adam was getting into his stride, Kate mused, putting it up to Jacques Guéguen from the beginning.
‘Very little surprises me, Detective. I’ve learned that life isn’t always simple.’
Kate smiled at him. ‘Delphine Ager told us one of the students who dropped out after Pierre’s death was an Irish girl.’ She thought she detected a nervous twitch in his face, but couldn’t be sure.
‘I believe that’s correct.’
‘Her name was Sandra, an exchange student.’ She wondered why he was being so guarded.
Getting up from his chair, he walked over to the bureau and picked up what looked like a registration book. ‘I thought you might want to look at this. It has the names of all the students that year, with an asterisk beside those who didn’t complete the year.’
Adam took out his notebook, ready to record the names.
‘Inspector Girardot has a copy,’ Jacques murmured, opening the book at the required page.
‘I didn’t see it in the police file,’ Adam retorted.
Jacques handed it to him. ‘The inspector only became aware of it this afternoon. Julien phoned him after your visit. Your interest in the students who dropped out led him to surmise that they might be important to our own investigators.’
‘I see.’ Adam didn’t sound convinced, and neither was Kate.
‘It explains why Sandra was never interviewed.’ Adam was trying to find her name on the list.
‘You won’t find it in there,’ Jacques said, tight-lipped.
‘Why not?’ Adam looked up.
‘Because I removed it.’ He sat down, suddenly seeming a lot older than his years.
‘When – and why?’ Adam sounded puzzled and snappy.
Kate gave him a look that said, ‘Ease up.’ Then she spoke: ‘Jacques, you do understand that tampering with evidence is a very serious matter. Maybe you would like to go back to the beginning and explain. Every detail could be vital at this stage.’ Now she understood why he had been cautious.