26Molly had no trouble recognizing Esmé even though she was wearing a headscarf and sunglasses, and by the size of the group of paparazzi waiting outside the restaurant, she wasn’t the only one. The maitre d’ showed her to Esmé’s table, but before she could sit down Esmé jumped up to kiss cheeks.
“Thanks a million for meeting me. I’m just so, so sorry about last night,” she whispered in Molly’s ear.
I bet, thought Molly.
“And it’s, well, you know…so awkward, now that we’ve met under those…circumstances. I’ve heard about your work and had tried to get in touch with you, but now I’m afraid…you won’t be interested in anything I have to say.”
“Heard of my work?”
“Of course. After Marcel…once he…after the murder, I spoke to the local gendarme. Jérome? Gilles? I forget his name. Between you
