He didn’t believe me. Hell,Imight not have believed me. It sounded that loopy.
But my family had its own unique take on loopy. As in magic.
“Yes, I can,” I insisted. “It’s the one small kind of magic I can actually perform.”
He crooked an eyebrow. “You can do two kinds of magic, and neither is small — especially melting into the shadows like that.”
“Tigers melt into shadows,” I countered.
“Using our stripes, not magic.”
“Don’t change the subject,” I chided, trying to do exactly that.
“Fine. Let’s focus on what you heard.” His voice grew softer. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Geneviève. I just don’t understand.”
God, I loved it when he used my full name. But it sure made focusing difficult.
I glanced at the café walls for something to demonstrate with, but the artworks were all cheap reprints of Gauguin’smasterpieces, making them soulless and quiet. But seeing the Tahitian beauties Gauguin had painted for his iconicAreareadid give me an idea.
I checked my watch. Seven p.m. A Thursday. I took out my phone.
“What are you doing?” Roux asked.
“Checking the opening hours of the Musée d’Orsay.”
He frowned. “They’re open late on Thursdays.”
A quick search confirmed the museum would be open until nine forty-five.
“Boy, you really do know the place,” I muttered.
He shrugged. “There’s a discount if you come after six, and it’s less crowded.”
A man after my own heart.
“How is any of that relevant to this?” he asked.
I thought it over, then answered indirectly. “What will you do when we’re done here?”
He sighed. “I have to report to Gordon. Personally.”
I bit my lip, not daring to ask. But I had to — for my father’s sake, and for Claudette’s.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said.
No,Roux’s expression said outright.
I went ahead anyway.
“I’ll go with you to report to Gordon. He’ll probably be a little more bearable if I’m there.”
Roux snorted. “A little? A lot.” Then he frowned. “What’s the other part of the deal?”
“We make a quick stop on the way.”
He looked lost. “At the Musée d’Orsay?”
I nodded.
