Murder at the Lanterne Rouge

Sunday, Noon

AIMÉE PARKED HER scooter at the museum’s entrance. Her mind spun. They still hadn’t found Pascal’s laptop or figured out what the diagram meant, or heard what Clodo had witnessed. Let alone identified the murderer.

But the DST was on her tail. She’d promised Meizi protection before she could guarantee it. She hadn’t discovered the time of the raid or any other information Meizi could feed Tso. She shuddered. If Meizi got caught, René would never forgive her.

She left another message for Prévost. Why had she ignored his comment that he owed her father and not questioned him? Chinatown had never been her father’s beat.

Yet she’d set wheels in motion—herself connecting with Jean-Luc, Saj working on the encryption, René at church. But the DST expected information and she needed to give them something.