Page 22 of Souvenir Heart

“So, whoever did it dumped the bodies there.”

“It appears so.”

The chief tapped his steepled index fingers against his chin thoughtfully. “They’d have needed a cart, or a carriage…a large one.”

“We didn’t see any evidence of a big vehicle in the field. If they had one, they must have parked it by the side of the road and carried the bodies over.”

“So, we’re talking about a group of men and a fairly large vehicle…” The chief tapped his chin again. “Which means there’s a good chance they’d need to stop to change out the team, or at least let their cattle rest. Especially in this heat.”

Unlacing his fingers, he placed his hands on the desk, launching the flies that had settled there into a frenzied cloud. “Send out mounted patrols. Investigate every hostelry within 20 kilometers and report back to me. Bring me those bastards. Dead or alive!” Although, the chief swore, if L’Helias managed to bring the culprits back alive, he’d make certain they were dead, with their heads on pikes, soon enough.

Sixteen

“There she is.” It had taken the redhead less than a half hour to find Suzanne.

She was leaning against the wall near an alleyway, a pipe clenched in her small white teeth. She was a little slip of a thing, with a mop of brown curls, a figure which could—and occasionally did—pass for a boy’s and yes, a mole beneath her right eye. He caught the flash of recognition in her ever-watchful eyes before she concealed it behind the facade of a speculative fille de joie on the clock.

“That’s Suzanne.”

At the sound of her name, Suzanne straightened and took a step forward, her blue and white striped skirt swirling around her trim ankles.

The redhead turned to Marcus, her palm extended. “Now where’s my money?”

Shifting the portmanteau over his shoulder, he fished in his pocket for the requisite number of coins. As he dropped them into the woman’s none-too-clean hand, he found himself hoping the safe-house they paid Suzanne Bonneuil to maintain had access to fresh water and soap. Whatever the fashions of the day, he needed to make himself a bit more presentable if he was going to convince a comte’s daughter to leave Paris with him.

The redhead departed, but only after carefully inspecting, counting, and recounting her payment.

“That one would make Legendre proud.” He mused, as he watched her sashay back the way they’d come.

“Who?” Suzanne asked, removing the pipe from her mouth, tapping the contents against the wall, and tucking it somewhere within her skirts.

“French mathematician.”

“Never heard of him,” Suzanne said following the direction of his gaze. “But there’s nothing ‘legendary’ about that one. She’s as common as they come.” She extended a hand towards the luggage slung over his shoulder. “You look like a pack mule. Need help with any of that?”

He considered her slight figure. “I can manage.” She shrugged. “Suit yourself. My rooms are about three blocks from here.”

Suzanne led the way down the street, weaving in and out of both human and wheeled traffic. Marcus followed, glancing at the windows of the shops they passed to catch the reflections of anyone who might be surveilling them.

“I hadn’t expected you back so soon,” she said, dodging a chattering pair of maids carrying wide market baskets

“Hadn’t expected to be.”

“What brings you back to Paris?”

“A woman.”

“A woman?“ She glanced back with an expression on her face that seemed to say you? “Is it a matter of the heart?”

He shook his head. “You know me, all business, no heart. Work.”

“I thought as much. Where are the others?”

“On the road.”

“All by yourself, are you?”

“So it appears.”