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We wait for him to elaborate.
“Ozzi has access to the palace, to the police department and possibly, to MESS,” Richard whispers. “We don’t know whether it’s a single mole or several agents. My nephews and a few trusted knights have been trying to unmask them. Unsuccessfully as yet.”
Louis’s mouth tightens with concern.
“Had Carlo uncovered anything at all in six years?” I ask.
“Every lead he followed was a brick wall,” Richard says. “To give you just one example, Housard’s grave had been desecrated. His body was no longer in the coffin, making it impossible to conduct a second autopsy.”
The prime minister strides toward our group, his eyes on Richard. “Your Royal Highness, there’s an urgent matter we need to discuss before you retire to your chambers.”
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Richard says to him.
The PM puts at least a half dozen meters between himself and us. But he makes sure to remain in Richard’s line of sight.
“Shortly before his suicide,” Richard says, “Carlo had hoped he’d found something. He told me he had a new lead. It wasn’t anything solid, more of a hunch.”
“What was it?” Louis asks.
“He was going to tell me if his hunch was right,” Richard replies. “I’m assuming it wasn’t, or else he would’ve come to me rather than kill himself.”
“Did he give you any details?” I squint at him. “A tiny hint? Anything at all?”
“Shortly before his death, we were having beers at the golf club,” Richard begins. “That afternoon, we’d had more beers than usual, and Carlo was chattier than his norm.”
“Do you recall what he said?”
“He talked about carbon monoxide, and how its level tends to be much higher in the blood and tissues in fire victims compared to those who died from another cause.”
“Did he say anything else?” I ask.
“I’m afraid that was it. He then changed the topic.”
“In your opinion, was he talking about Jeannette Mussey or Pierre Housard?” Louis asks him.
“I don’t know.” Richard glances at the PM and calls, “One moment!”
Turning toward us, he smiles mildly, signaling that our audience is over. “Maybe you two can find out, given how eager the duchess is to clear her sister’s name.”
“It’s my life goal,” I say.
He nods. “Be sure to apprise me if you do!”
CHAPTER18
CAMILLE
Today is a bright and crispy Sunday, my first in Paris.
Louis’s schedule is free of any appointments. Angie and Marianne are out revisiting favorite haunts, each on her own. They’ve both been here before. Angie many times, and Marianne once on a trip paid for by her parents for her twenty-first birthday. I may very well be the only Evorian adult who never left the principality.
Knowing that, Louis decided to ease me into my new life by taking me skating. As I climb into the car, I assume Rudy will drive us to a lake in the mountains around Paris, high enough to be covered by real ice. Only little children skate in town on synthetic ice.
Yesterday, before we left Mount Evor, Louis, Serafina and Jacques had given me a crash course on what to expect from Paris and from being an emissary’s wife. Only the top diplomats will know we’re a ducal couple from Mount Evor. To all those without a clearance—and that’s what I should assume about anyone I meet—Louis and I hail from Switzerland. Jacques informed me that all Evorians traveling abroad are issued a second passport, which is either Swiss or Monegasque.
Louis told me that the cooking, cleaning, and concierge services are provided at the residence. For the small chores, I must rely on Marianne.
“I don’t know if I can ask someone to darn my socks,” I said.
