“You’re not even answering the text? C’mon, see what the boy wants.”
“I’m not having dinner with you guys, period. I’m ordering in from Shun Lee and that’s the end of it. I don’t want to talk to Mike or text him or take any of his crap tonight. Over and out.”
Mercer’s phone rang next.
“He’s relentless,” I said, as Mercer answered it.
“Yes, indeed, Detective Chapman. I am holding one beat-up blond hostage in my car, and she wants absolutely no part of you,” Mercer said, pausing for the reply. “Oh, it’s me you wanted?”
He listened while Mike explained something to him, then spoke again. “Okay, so dinner’s not happening?” Another pause. “Yeah, I’ve got the lab report with me. Sure thing. Alex can run it up.”
I assumed I looked as exasperated as I felt.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, girl.”
“I’m sorry to break up your dinner plans, but-”
“Not a problem.”
“But I’m not running anything up to Mike.”
“When he goes in tonight, the lieutenant wants the DNA report on that rape-homicide we’re working together. That was a professional sperm symbol Mike e-mailed to you. I picked up the lab papers today on my way in, when I stopped for the certified copy of Baby Mo’s results.”
“It’s too creepy in Mike’s apartment. It’s still like a shrine to Valerie. He’s got to get her clothes out of there. I’m not going up.”
“Ancient history. Vickee took care of that a couple of months ago.”
“Really? You guys are great. That was a sweet thing to do.”
“And just because I’m asking you to, you’re going to take that gray envelope out of my briefcase and go upstairs. I don’t care if you don’t go inside, I don’t care if you don’t want to see him. Just slip it under Mike’s door while I stay double-parked, then I’ll drop you at home. The dude’s been doing double-duty for you all week, Alex.”
“Guilt me, Mercer. Just lay it on.” I slouched down in my seat. “I’ll take the papers upstairs, okay?”
“I promise to wait for you,” he said, turning up the radio so I could listen to Smokey Robinson tracing the tracks of his tears. The ride from there was chatter bemoaning a Yankee season without Posada and trying to schedule a May weekend on the Vineyard for Mercer, Vickee, and Logan.
Mercer stopped the car in front of a fire hydrant close to the dilapidated brownstone where Mike lived. I got out with the folder and opened the door to the vestibule. Instead of his name on the plate next to the bell for 4A, the typed tag read COFFIN. I pressed it, and thirty seconds later the buzzer went off, admitting me to the hallway.
I grabbed the banister and started trotting up the steps. With each flight, the cracks and chips in the paint seemed to be longer and deeper.
I reached the fourth-floor landing and stopped to catch my breath. Mercer was right about Mike’s concern for me this week, and all he had done on my behalf.
I knocked and said, “It’s me, Mike. I’ve got your papers.”
The door opened. Luc Rouget smiled at me and took me in his arms.
TWENTY-NINE
“Ssh, ssh, ssh, ssh, ssh,” Luc said, wrapping me inside a great embrace, kissing me all over the top of my head. He kicked the door shut while he tried to stop my crying. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“It can’t be. That’s a foolish thing to say, Luc.” I was unable to stop the meltdown. “What are you doing here?”
He stroked my hair and held me close. “We’ll talk about it, darling. Just calm down and-”
“Calm down?” I said, looking up at him. “I had no idea where in the world you were. I’ve had every horrible thought-”
“Just stop thinking, then, Alex.” He lifted my chin and kissed me, long and lovingly. I gave in to him, letting the tears stream down my cheeks, kissing him again and again.
“When did you get here?” I suddenly realized there was barely enough room in Mike’s apartment for two of us to be inside with him. I took a step back. “Where’s Mike?”
“He’s been a prince throughout all this,” Luc said, dabbing at my mascara-streaked face with his handkerchief. “I owe you an apology for the way I talked about him on Sunday.”
I bit my lip, laughing at myself. “Great. And I’ve been an absolute bear to him tonight. Blew him off completely.”
“He’ll recover.”
“Did you send some guy to my apartment the other night, to talk to me? Did you really do that?”
“It was before I had a chance to talk things through with Mike. I was desperate to get word to you. Just one of my old friends. It was a stupid thing to do. Sorry, Alexandra.”
Luc took my hand and started to lead me over to the bed.
“Don’t even think about that here in this apartment,” I said.
“Give me a little credit, darling. I was just going to get you off your feet to talk.”
I went over to one of the two stools in front of the kitchen counter. I could hardly handle the idea of being in Mike’s apartment to meet with Luc about anything.
Luc took the other stool. “It’s the police who kept me from calling you, Alex. You understand that, don’t you?”
I couldn’t look him in the eye. I didn’t answer.
“What? You think I didn’t want to?”
“I’m so confused. What are you doing here?”
“The Brooklyn detectives asked me to come over. You understand there was a man who was killed,” Luc said. “Mike told me you-”
“Luigi Calamari? Do you know him?”
“I don’t know him. I mean, I met him where he used to work, in a professional capacity. I don’t know him outside of that.”
“But you’ve hired him to be at Lutèce?”
“I didn’t hire him. I’ve got a manager and partners who do all that work on the ground over here. I didn’t know anything about Luigi until I got the call from the police.”
I looked away from Luc. A photograph of Valerie on the table next to Mike’s bed caught my eye. She was standing on a steel beam, thirty stories above the city, on the framework of a building she had designed. I wanted a share of the courage she possessed till the very end of her life.
“Listen to me, Alex. I’m as confused as you are.”
“That couldn’t possibly be. Your head would be spinning like mine is,” I said, closing my eyes and shaking my head. “You’d be as dizzy from it as I am right now.”
Luc stood up and put his arms around me, resting my head against his chest.
“I am dizzy, Alexandra, but not because of you. I’m quite clear about that.”
“I spend half my professional life trying to sort out lies people tell me-even the people who come to me for help. Now I feel like my personal life reeks of the same deceitfulness.”
“I’m not lying to you, darling. I never will.”
I broke away from him and pushed the stool out behind me. “Why are we here, anyway?” I asked. “Let’s go to my place.”
“We can’t, darling. At least I can’t, for now.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“Look, Mike picked me up at the airport this morning and drove me to the detectives’ office in Brooklyn. They know all about Lisette, Alex. They’ve spoken with Belgarde in Mougins. The matchboxes, the skulls, the murders-they think there might be a connection.”
“To each other, yes-but to you, Luc?”
“Not to me.”
“And Mike?”
“They wouldn’t let him stay for the interviews. They said it’s not his case. So he came home to sleep for the day-he said he’d been working all night. Then at four o’clock this afternoon, when they had finished with me, Mike came back to pick me up.”
“Then let’s go,” I said.
Luc pulled me back to him and kissed me again. As good as it felt in the moment, I was seized up inside with doubt and dread of the days to come.
“I can’t stay with you tonight,” he said.