34Molly was in the garden pulling weeds, where she did her best thinking. It was taking some discipline to focus on possible leads instead of mentally wringing her hands over the wellbeing of the Valette girls. For whatever reason, Gisele had chosen her to ask for help, and so far, she had managed nothing. Yanking up a particularly long and nasty root, Molly wondered idly about a wiretap. How hard were they to get in France? Would it ever be possible for a private investigator to get one legally? And even if it was obtained and put in place—was Camille chatty enough, revealing enough, to make it worthwhile?
Her cellphone buzzed and Molly sat back on her heels, tried to wipe the dirt off her hands, and dug it out of her pocket. A text from Lawrence:
raphael valette dead. thought you’d be
