French Kiss

Chapter 31

“What the hell is the story with these two murders?”

This question keeps exploding off the walls of NYPD precincts. It is the commissioner’s question. It is Nick Elliott’s question. And-obsessively, interminably, awake or asleep-it is my question.

The question is asked a thousand times, and a thousand times the answer comes back the same.

“No idea. Just no goddamn idea.”

Forensics brought in nothing. Surveillance cameras showed us nothing. Interviews at the scene turned up nothing.

So it is now time for me to do the only thing left to do: turn inward and rely entirely on my instincts. They have helped me in the past, and they have failed me, too. But instinct is all I have left.

I confront Nick Elliott. I tell him that the answer to the murders is obviously not in New York. The answer must be in Paris.

“Paris?” he shouts.

Then I say, “I need to go to Paris-look around, nose around, see if I can find something there.”

Nick Elliott gives it a long pause and then says, “Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”

Then I tell him that I want to take K. Burke with me.

He pauses again, another long pause. Then he speaks. “Now, that’s a bad idea.”

“Inspector, this is no holiday I’m planning. This is work. K. Burke and I will be examining cases that-”

“Okay, okay, let me think about it,” Elliott says. “Maybe it’ll help. On the other hand, it might end up being a waste of time and money.”

I think quickly and say, “Then it will be a waste of my time and my money. I’ll supply the money for the trip. I only care about getting to the bottom of these murders.”

“I guess so,” says Elliott.

I say, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

A minute later I am telling K. Burke to go home and pack.

Her reaction? “I’ve never been to Paris.”

My reaction? “Why am I not surprised?”