Reckless

Jeff told her.

“Meet me at l’Église Saint-Louis-des-Invalides in twenty minutes.”

“l’Église les what now?” said Jeff.

“Just be there.”

LITTLE KNOWN TO TOURISTS, the church of Saint Louis nestled deep within the complex of Les Invalides, beneath its magnificent golden dome. Designed by architect Jules Hardouin-Mansart, the chapel was commissioned in the seventeenth century by Louis XIV as a sanctuary specifically for soldiers. Every stone, from its banner-hung walls to its crypt filled with the tombs of French generals, was steeped in military history. But this afternoon, like most afternoons, the church was almost deserted, with only a few quiet worshippers kneeling discretely in its pews or lighting candles of remembrance.

Jeff saw Tracy as soon as he arrived, kneeling alone in a side chapel. Making a sign of the cross he knelt down beside her and whispered in her ear.

“What are you praying for?”

“Strength,” Tracy whispered back. “I tend to need it whenever you’re around.”

“How are you?” Jeff asked, ignoring the jibe.

“Fine.”

“They told me you’d been in a coma.”

Tracy thought, And still you didn’t come. Out loud she said, “I’m fine, Jeff. We aren’t here to talk about me. Where have you been?”

“Bruges.”

Jeff had agreed to follow Frank Dorrien’s advice and not tell Tracy about his trip to Steamboat. There would be time enough for that later.

“You saw Drexel?”

“Yes.”

“And you know about Sally Faiers?”

Jeff shook his head grimly. “Yes.”

A verger, busy polishing the tabernacle and the altar candle sticks, shot Jeff and Tracy a reproachful look. Jeff lowered his voice.

“Awful business.”

“Any ideas who did it?”

“Well, it wasn’t Hunter,” Jeff whispered. “I was watching him when it happened. He won big at a poker game in the Old Town, then met up with a woman. Tracy, I’m pretty sure it was Althea.”

Tracy’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

Jeff described the woman Hunter had met and their interaction in as much detail as he could. “Your friend General Dorrien called to tell me about Sally’s murder before I could hear any more. But I heard him call her ‘Kate.’ Twice.”

Kate. A name. An actual name. It was the first time Althea had been anything more than a shadow. Not a lot to go on, perhaps. But it was something.

“They were fighting. If I didn’t know better I’d have said it was a lovers’ tiff. He was trying to give her money but she wouldn’t accept it. She was upset when she left.”

“You said you followed her?”

“Yes. Dorrien asked me to. But I lost her in one of the squares. The city’s tiny but it’s like a maze, especially at night.”

“I remember,” Tracy said. For a moment there was a flicker of warmth between them, a spark of shared nostalgia for another life. But it was soon gone.

“Your turn.”