Free Murder in the Latin Quarter by Susan Kiernan-Lewis

of the box.
    â€œI do not think of the past often,” Delphine said. “It is not good, I think, to visit there too much.”
    Maggie cycled through the photographs, most of which were of the three sisters. In one they appeared to be in their teens and were seated around a café table with their hands held primly in they laps and their ankles crossed. Georgette was the pretty one, that was clear. She had wavy dark hair and large eyes and full lips. Perhaps because Maggie knew a little something about Georgette’s story, she didn’t appear all that bright to her. Her eyes looked vacant.
    Jacqueline, on the other hand, was easy to pick out as the oldest. She looked as sharp as Georgette looked dull. She was also the least handsome of the three sisters, although not totally plain. Maggie examined her face closely for any trace of Laurent but found none. She tried to imagine how Jacqueline might look if she smiled.
    It’s the traditional lot of the older sister , Maggie thought. Always trying to keep the others in line, to be a role model.
    That is unless the older sister was Elise Newberry.
    Maggie shook off the memory of her sister and picked up a photo of Delphine—her hair dark and wavy around her shoulders, her eyes bright, missing nothing. She was standing on a beach with another girl. Their arms were wrapped around each other’s waists. The other girl was blonde with an upturned nose. Although the photo was black and white, Maggie imagined the girl had blue eyes to go with her blonde hair.
    â€œI forgot I had that picture,” Delphine said hoarsely, reaching for it.
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œNobody. Just a friend.” Delphine plucked the photo from Maggie’s hand, glanced briefly at the back of it and then tucked it away in a drawer in the kitchen table.
    â€œI have told you how much our little Mila resembles her great grand aunt Georgette?” Delphine said almost too brightly.
    â€œYou have,” Maggie said, noting the drawer where Delphine put the photo. “I’m surprised Laurent never mentioned it.”
    Delphine snorted. “Men do not notice these things.”
    In my experience, Maggie thought, there is very little that gets past Laurent . But she held her tongue.
    â€œGeorgette of course shamed the family not long after that photo was taken,” Delphine said.
    â€œBy getting pregnant with Noel,” Maggie said.
    â€œ C’est ça .”
    â€œWas this during the war?”
    â€œJust after.”
    â€œAnd Noel was given to a family in Switzerland but y’all stayed in touch.”
    Delphine smiled sadly at Maggie. “It was different in those days. Today, perhaps Georgette would have kept the baby.”
    â€œAnd all these years Noel has known that Georgette was his real mother?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œWhat happened to Georgette?”
    Delphine frowned. “Eventually she married. She had no more children. She lived in Paris with her husband Stefan. He died in a car accident in 1955. She died of breast cancer in 1968.”
    â€œGosh. Pretty bleak.”
    Delphine knitted her brows as if she didn’t understand Maggie’s words.
    â€œWere you not close? You and Georgette?” Maggie asked.
    Delphine picked up the photo of the three sisters. “ Non ,” she said.
    It was clear she didn’t want to go any further down that road. Maggie pointed to the photo of Jacqueline.
    â€œThat’s Laurent’s grandmother, right?”
    â€œ Oui .”
    â€œWhat was she like?”
    Delphine shrugged. “She was on the board of many charitable organizations in Paris. Her husband was wealthy and widely respected. As his wife, she commanded a highly esteemed position in society.”
    â€œWhat was she like as a sister?”
    â€œRigid. Very strict.”
    â€œSo you two weren’t close.”
    â€œDo you have a sister, Maggie?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œAnd were you