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Now that I know what to look for, I catch the difference between the typeface on that page and the previous ones at once.
“Dammit!” I bite out, unable to restrain myself. “My apologies, ladies.”
I pass the report to Elaine.
“I see what you meant about the different font,” she says, flipping back and forth between the pages. “I’m sorry this isn’t the original you’d hoped for.”
“Thank you for your help, Madame Bodden-Bock,” Camille says. “I truly appreciate it.”
While I thank Elaine in my turn, Camille shuffles back to the cabinet, her expression grim and her shoulders sagging. She slips the report into its hanging folder and closes the drawer.
As she straightens, a deep frown creases her brow. She reopens the drawer. “I think I saw something at the bottom, but I may be wro—”
She pulls out a postcard and a sticky note with a few lines scribbled on it. The handwriting on the note is unintelligible.
Elaine takes it from Camille. “It’s Carlo’s hand.” She reads it silently first, several times, pausing and frowning as she tries to decipher some of the words.
The rest of us study the postcard. It’s a reproduction of an impressionist painting of a Christmas market.
“Trône Fun Fairby Eugène Galien Laloue,” Camille reads the title on the back. “Oh, look, there’s a handwritten note here, too! Let’s see… Um…” She looks up. “I can’t read this handwriting.”
I take the card from her and fail just as miserably.
Elaine clears her throat. “I think I have all of it. Are you ready?”
Everybody nods.
“Housard’s autopsy report looks fishy,” she begins. “Coroner’s heart attack, too. Thorough investigation needed. Will conduct personally.”
She lowers the note and looks at us.
“That’s it?” Camille asks her, frustration written all over her face.
I thrust the postcard into Elaine’s hands. “Can you read this, too?”
She peers at the handwritten words. “Talk to the duke.”
What?Which duke? Grandpa? Did Carlo mean Grandpa? Why would he want to talk to Grandpa?
Camille, Angie, and Rudy all turn their gazes to my face.
“Good thing we’re returning to Arrago tonight,” I say. “I’ll ask Grandfather about this first thing in the morning.”
Camille and I take photos of Carlo’s note and the postcard, both sides. We thank Elaine profusely and leave her house.
“I knew Grandpa knew something!” I exclaim as soon as we climb into the car.
“Let’s hope he’ll share his knowledge with us,” Camille says.
“He’d better!” I turn to her as it hits me. “I’m sure this is connected to why he made me marry you. All his talk of doing the right thing because you’d suffered unjustly… It was BS.”
“I never bought it either,” Angie adds.
“Me neither,” Rudy and Camille chime in at the same time.
What are you hiding, Grandpa?
CHAPTER17
