page40 (1/2)

“He was doubly foolish, then, to obsess about her for his whole life”

She gave“Ah, monsieur scientifique—does your heart always obey the orders of your head? Have you never been foolish in the thing you wanted or the person you loved? Have you never loved unwisely, never grieved too much for someone you lost?”

Her question blindsided ht-headed and reached out to steady myself on the trellis beside me Years before, when my wife, Kathleen, died of cancer, I’d retreated froto co in love with Jess Carter, a beautiful a — Jess was killed Then there was Isabella, hom I’d had a brief romantic encounter, and who’d died in Japan when the tsuna And noas struggling with e and position, should be as off-limits to me as Laura was to Petrarch

Elisabeth reached out a hand and laid it on ly,” she said “I think I have reive me”

I shook ht It’s my fault What do I know about what’s foolish and what’s wise, or what’s the best way to cope with pain? When I’m in pain, I study a skeleton When Petrarch is in pain, he writes a poem Most people prefer his way to ave her a rueful smile; she returned it with one of warmth and kindness

“You find poems and stories in the bones,” she said, and Jean nodded “Good night” She gave my cheek a quick kiss, took her husband’s arolden light spilling from the s of their home

I wondered if it was too late in life to take up writing sonnets

CHAPTER 26

Descartes settled into a chair I’d expected his eyes to light up at the array of pastries and berries — Jean and Elisabeth had started doubling the portions for his sake — but he looked bleak and bleary “I’ve been up all night,” he said, in answer to the question inWe have some information on all three of the fishes”

Coffee sloshed fro the saucer When I set the saucer down, h the wooden slats, splatting onto the stones of the courtyard “Tell me”

“The one in London is a British art dealer”

“An art dealer?” I was surprised, though I swiftly realized I shouldn’t have been After all, if collectors and em-encrusted Aztec skulls, ouldn’t soure of all time? “What else do you know about him?”

“Not hiton She’s very shady She’s been on the watch list of New Scotland Yard and Interpol for years now”

“What for?”

“Buying and selling black-eries and fakes Stolen antiquities Her name has come up more than once in cases like this—”

“Murder cases?”

“No, nothing violent Cases where a valuable piece of art — a painting, a sculpture, a precious document — disappeared, or mysteriously reappeared Sometimes with fake papers, sometimes with no papers at all But she’s slippery Someone else always takes the fall”

“She’s never been convicted of anything?”

“She’s never even been arrested”

“Sounds like she’s lucky, or smart, or both,” I said “What’s your take?”

“My take?” He looked startled, then he frowned “Isn’t that what you call a corrupt policeman’s bribe — his take?”

“Ah Not quite” No wonder he’d looked confused and unhappy “We do say that a crooked cop is ‘on the take,’ yes But the ets when he’s on the take is called his ‘cut,’ I think ‘What’s your take?’ means ‘What’s your impression, what’s your intuition?’ So, what’s your take on this shady art dealer, Felicia Kensington — could she have killed Stefan?”

He studied the biggest of the strawberries, then plucked it from the platter and bit off the lower half “My take is, she’s a morceau de merde—a morsel of shit, you would say?”

I smiled at the translation “Americans don’t say ‘morsel’ a lot We tend to say ‘piece’ instead”