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“Of course it did, Chief Inspector. Did you sleep?” she asked, brushing crumbs off his coat.

“Very well.”

“How are you feeling about Daniel?”

“Calmer. You were right to have me wait. I’ll go around after breakfast.”

He took a long sip of rich, strong coffee while Reine-Marie spread strawberry jam on her croissant.

“I spoke with Mrs. McGillicuddy yesterday, about Stephen’s will,” he said. “He made a new one a year ago. After some sizable bequests, to his foundation and one to Mrs. McGillicuddy”—Armand hesitated for a moment, before going on—“he left the rest to us.”

Reine-Marie lowered her croissant to her plate, staring at him. To say it was a shock would have been disingenuous. But still, if she’d thought about it at all, she’d have said Stephen would leave Annie and Daniel small bequests. And them nothing at all.

And certainly not the whole thing.

“His estate would be split equally among Annie, Daniel, and you and me.”

Before she could ask, or fight the temptation to ask, he volunteered the information.

“According to Mrs. McGillicuddy, after taxes and fees, it will come to several hundred million each.”

Reine-Marie’s mouth opened slightly, and her lips went pale. Armand wondered if she was about to pass out.

“Armand,” she whispered. “We can’t—”

He nodded. That had been exactly his feeling, too. But there was a solution to that.

“If you want, when the time comes, we can start a foundation. Annie and Daniel can decide if they want to contribute.”

“Yes, yes,” said Reine-Marie. “Oh, I know. A home for wayward cats. And financiers.”

Armand laughed. It felt good. Then he called Daniel, who answered on the fourth ring. Yes, they were home and he could go over.

Armand could hear the chill in Daniel’s voice. He knows, thought Armand. Or suspects.

“Do you want me to come with you?” asked Reine-Marie.

“No, better if I do this myself.”

“Are you sure?” She searched his eyes. “You’re prepared for whatever Daniel will say? You won’t …”

“Make it worse? I’ll try not to.”

It was a pretty low bar, but still, Armand wasn’t completely confident he could get over it.

“What’ll you do?”

“It’s Sunday. The Archives nationales will be closed. Which is a perfect time to go. I’ve already contacted the head archivist. She’ll meet me there at ten. Are you going to tell Daniel about the will?”

“No. Nor Annie. Not while Stephen’s alive.”

She tied a scarf at his neck, and kissed him, and sent him back into the rainy day. And didn’t say what he already knew.

It would not be long.

CHAPTER 27

Armand spent some time on the floor playing with his granddaughters, who were still in their Canadian pajamas and were insisting on being called Bloom and Dawn.