CHAPTER 12She looked at me from the pages of the snapshot album. A bit younger-looking, but otherwise the same as when she had given me the headache the previous night. The striking, hard-boned face framed by long black hair now had a name: Angelina Doniol.
One shot was a close-up of her staring directly into the camera with an impatient smile. In another she was beside what looked like a public swimming pool, wearing a sensible one-piece bathing suit that she filled in spectacular fashion.
Max Doniol tapped a picture of her standing under a tree with a handsome young man a few inches taller than she, which made him about my height. “That’s my son Leon.”
“Good-looking man.”
“Sure. Leon could have married almost any girl in town. Instead, he had to pick Angelina Reisler. Not that I can
