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An impressionist painting…
A small-size reproduction of an impressionist painting…
Carlo Bodden-Bock’s note!
The former head of the Mount Evor Secret Service had scribbled his enigmatic words, “Talk to the duke,” on the back of a postcard depicting the Trône Fun Fair. We’d assumed at the time that it was a random postcard, something he’d had at hand.
But what if the image itself was meaningful?
What if the “duke” that Carlo wanted to talk to wasn’t Louis’s grandfather or another Evorian duke, but a fun fair boss in Paris?
Nah, that can’t be true.
That hypothesis is simply too crazy. Why would Carlo’s secret inquiry into the palace fire lead him to a pseudo duke? What could a Parisian carnie possibly know that would help shed light on the crimes committed six years ago in Pombrio?
Well, maybe I should find out…
The old man stops talking.
I refocus my attention on him. “Thank you so much for telling me about the king, and the duke, and everything else! You’ve been very helpful.”
“You are very welcome, Mademoiselle!”
“Would you know where I can find the duke?”
“I’ve seen him around the fun house a couple of times. I’d try there first.” He points to his left. “Keep going and you’ll see it.”
“How will I recognize the duke?”
“Look out for a short, bald man with a pencil mustache, a long dark coat, and a red scarf. Real name is Paco Ferré. He’s hard to miss.”
We say goodbye and I rush to the fun house.
But I don’t find anyone around it who looks like Paco Ferré. Marianne calls and joins me a few minutes later. I tell her about my new quest. We hang out for another hour, but the duke never shows up.
Instead, Duke Louis gives me a call. He’d like to know when I expect to be home, and if I’d like him to pick me up, wherever I am. I tell him that Marianne and I are at the fun fair in the Tuileries Garden. We’ll head home soon on our own like big girls. He asks if we would please avoid themétroand take a taxi, given the late hour.
Tired and cold, I heed his advice.
CHAPTER25
LOUIS
I’m reading my final report for the day in my office at the embassy. This one is particularly sensitive. Our field agents at the European Parliament have seen a marked escalation of lobbying by Kurt Ozzi’s people. The number of meetings scheduled with the deputies on behalf of Kurt increased threefold compared to last month. While the real agendas of those meetings are kept confidential, our spies sussed out that Mount Evor’s fate was often discussed.
Kurt is prepared to use any means necessary—legal, semilegal, and illegal—to achieve his goal. He’s on edge, still reeling from Theo’s recent diplomatic victory that bought us an additional year and a better chance to save our sovereignty.
I’m on the last page of the report when someone calls on my private line. It’s Grandpa. I answer, wondering to what I owe the honor.
He skips the small talk. “My detective who’s tailing Camille saw someone run her down in central Paris tonight.”
“What?” I stand up, flabbergasted. “Is she all right?”
“She seems to be, but you better have her checked by a doctor to make sure she didn’t suffer a concussion.”
I shut down my computer. “What happened?”
“She was crossing rue de Rivoli when a motorcycle barreled down the street, hit her, and drove off.”
