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Hamid says that he'll have the necessary invitations sent to them, and his offer is accepted at once. The designer doubtless expected this response, knowing the value of the product she has in her hands.
Jasmine.
Yes, she's the one. He would only rarely use her in a show because she's more powerful than the clothes she's wearing, but as "the public face of Hamid Hussein" there could be no one better.
EWA TURNS ON HER MOBILE phone as they leave. Seconds later, an envelope flies across a blue sky, lands at the bottom of the screen, and opens, and all that to say: "You have a message."
"What a ridiculous bit of animation," thinks Ewa.
Again the name of the caller has been blocked. She's unsure whether to open the text, but her curiosity is stronger than her fear.
"It seems some admirer has found your phone number," jokes Hamid. "You don't usually get that many texts."
"Maybe you're right."
What she would really like to say is: "Don't you understand? After two years together, can you not see that I'm terrified, or do you just think I've got PMS?"
She pretends casually to read the message:
"I've destroyed another world because of you. And I'm beginning to wonder if it's really worth it because you don't appear to understand my message. Your heart is dead."
"Who's it from?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. It doesn't give the number. Still, it's always nice to have a secret admirer."
5:15 P.M.
Three murders. All the statistics have been overturned in only a matter of hours and are showing an increase of fifty percent.
He goes to his car and tunes in to a special frequency on his radio.
"I believe there's a serial killer at work in the town."
A voice murmurs something at the other end. The sound of static cuts out some of the words, but Savoy understands what is being said.
"No, I can't be sure, but neither do I have any doubts about it."
More comments, more static.
"I'm not mad, sir, and I'm not contradicting myself. For example, I can't be sure that my salary will be deposited in my account at the end of the month, but I don't actually doubt that it will. Do you see what I mean?"
More static and angry words.
"No, sir, I'm not asking for an increase in salary, I'm just saying that certainties and doubts can coexist, especially in a profession like ours. Yes, all right, let's leave that to one side and move on to what really matters. The man in hospital has just died, so it's quite possible that on the news tonight three murders will be reported. All we know, so far, is that each of the three murders was committed using a different but very sophisticated technique, which is why no one will suspect that they're connected, but suddenly Cannes is being seen as a dangerous town. And if this carries on, people are bound to start speculating about whether there is, in fact, only one murderer. What do you want me to do?"
More angry comments from the commissioner.
"Yes, they're here. The boy who witnessed the murder is telling them everything he knows. The place is swarming with photographers and journalists at the moment. I assumed they'd all be lined up and waiting by the red carpet, but it seems I was wrong. The problem with the Festival is that there are too many reporters and nothing to report."
More indignant remarks. He takes a notebook from his pocket and writes down an address.
"Fine. I'll go straight to Monte Carlo and talk to him."
The static stops. The person at the other end has hung up.
Savoy walks to the end of the pier, places the siren on the roof of his car, puts it on at maximum volume, and races off like a madman, hoping to lure the reporters away to some nonexistent crime. They, however, wise to this trick, stay where they are and continue interviewing the boy.
Savoy is beginning to feel excited. He can finally leave all that paperwork to be completed by an underling and devote himself to what he's always dreamed of doing: solving murders that defy all logic. He hopes he's right and that there really is a serial killer in town terrorizing the population. Given the speed with which news spreads these days, he'll soon be in the spotlight explaining that "nothing has yet been proved," but in such a way that no one quite believes him, thus ensuring that the spotlight will stay on him until the criminal is found. For all its glamour, Cannes is really just a small provincial town, where everyone knows everything that's going on, so it shouldn't be that hard to find the murderer.
