My voice trembled. I wasn’t sure how coherent my theories were or if they were starting to sound delusional. The whole situation felt like a nightmare.
Gina tilted her head. “Hadn’t they managed to arrest Julian Garros because of a tip-off? Someone must have betrayed him.”
We had arrived at a hypothesis: if the person who stole the money and killed Antonia knew her history as Garros’s client, they must have had access to her accounts… and they surely made sure not to leave any loose ends.
“André told me when he gave me the Garros case. Whoever tipped him off must have had a big reason to want him behind bars.”
A few hours earlier, I believed my money came from Eloïse and that the killer was Timotheo Larousse. Now I wasn’t so sure… about the second part, at least. Oh, come on. I still believed the money from the Club Montari came from her. Where was she getting money from to live the way she was living if, according to Enzo, she was broke?
I didn’t bring this up with Gina. I was still trying to work on my emotional intelligence.
She pinched her nose, a sign she was developing a headache. “Maybe you should talk to him again.”
“Who? André?”
She raised her eyebrows. “He’s your boss, right? He’s the one who got you into this mess.”
She was right. André knew Timotheo Larousse. And he was the one who decided to take the Garros case.
I searched for my phone among my scattered belongings on the bed—which had been made up with fresh sheets, thanks to the staff—and moved to the window. It was a habit Ihad picked up from my mother, talking on the phone while looking outside. It seemed to help me focus better on what the person on the other end was saying.
“I’m going to call him right now,” I said, searching for “Saidi, André” in my contacts.
Gina stood up, slipping into a pair of white slippers that had also appeared in our rooms the night before. “Great. Let me know later, okay?” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I’m going to my room. I want to sleep until dinner time, at least.”
“How long do you plan to stay with the Dubois?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Until Eloïse returns to London, I suppose.”
I nodded. I would return to London alone. I wished her a good rest, and once I was alone, I called my boss.
André picked up on the third ring. “What do you want?” he asked with a sigh.
“I want many things,” I replied, unable to hide my smile. “But right now, I only need one: information.”
“That might be doable,” he said.
Before speaking, the image of Bastian flashed in my mind. Bastian, who had discovered that Antonia had been a client of Garros. Bastian, who was in the Dubois’ mansion with the same goal as me. Maybe he had already spoken to his uncle. Maybe André would find what I was about to tell him familiar.
“I’m asking you this as a coworker. Do you know anything about Larousse’s case that might be related to the Garros’s case?”
The silence confirmed my suspicions.
“It’s important, André,” I pressed.
At last, my boss gave in. “Bastian told me yesterday that he believed Antonia was Garros’s last client. Since he’sunwilling to name names, he was going to request permission tomorrow to review the documents that might have belonged to her.”
“Are you going to investigate her accounts?” I asked, sure that Gina had hit the nail on the head.
“Accounts, properties, the will. We’re going to review every document Antonia left behind; hopefully, one of them will confirm our suspicions.”
“Do you plan to clear Larousse of the charges with the evidence you find?”
André cleared his throat. I pulled the phone away from my ear.
“It’s still too early to know that.”
Outside, the rain kept pouring, hammering against the window.
