It was 9:15 when we got home. Needless to say, we’d tried Harry on the drive back as soon as we’d exchanged stories, but he wasn’t answering, so we left a voicemail for him to call us if he got the message before eleven; otherwise, we could connect in the morning.
We’d also have to connect with Sonja—or reconnect rather. She’d caught Rey as she was stepping away from Domenic and requested a raincheck on drinks. “How about after the reception for Pietro? Say seven at Seawar’s on Seaside. Know it?” Rey told her we’d find it and be there.
Having managed to find a number—luck was on our side—I took a chance and called the former detective in Quebec when we got settled. Bien sûr, he remembered those années folles as if they’d been mere weeks ago. Pierre-Luc Bonhomme sounded younger than his s
