Leclair switched the tape off and handed the parcel across. “I’d say it’s from someone who hates your Monsieur Boucher. Notice how my name’s in bold type on the front. ‘Leclair’ is so sharp it practically jumps out at you. It’s as if the sender demanded legibility to ensure I got it. You’ll notice something else if you think about it. Fear. There’s no return address. No fingerprints either; I checked. The sender must know Boucher has powerful patrons and wants to avoid a firing or worse.” He groped left and eased ahead. “According to the postmark, the gift was sent six days ago from the Odéon Post Office. I got it yesterday morning. The Odéon Post Office, let’s see. That narrows our mystery giver down to only those passing along Boulevard Saint-Germain.”
Stanislas lifted the micro-cassett
