‘I don’t think it’s a secret.’ Charlie fingered the blood-red roses sitting in a vase on Violet’s desk. ‘Fresh roses, daises, peonies every week. You have a distinct glow about you—being in love suits you.’
‘Shh, you’re terrible, Charlie James. Who said anything about love?’ Violet swung her ponytail and batted her eyelashes. ‘Now help me. I have these new sketches from Aleksandr.’ She pointed to the drawings of long dresses, draped at the waist, with deep V-necks.
‘They look almost comfortable,’ Charlie joked.
‘Trust me, Aleksandr has put a wrap tie and a secret hook and eye inside all these and they’ll make every woman feel amazing.Look at these samples.’ She pulled out a swatch of emerald silk, another of midnight blue and another of cinnamon. ‘Feel them. It’s not just about the colour, it’s about the way the silk moves across your body, like water.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. I adore the blues. Like what you’re wearing.’
‘You always like the blue.’ Violet tilted her head and nodded towards George’s door. ‘What was that all about, anyway?’
‘There’s been a body found in a forest near Tours.’
‘Sad.’ Violet frowned. ‘Lost hiker?’
‘Looks like a chauffeur with a bullet hole in the back of his neck.’
‘Ew.’ She wrinkled her nose before she paused. ‘Did you say near Tours?’
‘Oui!’
‘Do you have to go there to cover it?’
‘Oui.’
Violet raised a finger in the air. ‘I have an idea,’ she said as she tugged some sketches of sundresses from the bottom of the pile. The dresses showed lace at the bust and the hem. ‘I hear there are some greatbrocantesin Tours. We’ve been trying to get there to shop the antiques for weeks but there is so much on …’
‘Maybe just having one job would help with that.’
Violet shot her an exasperated look. ‘I need to go speak with the market holders. I’ve tried reaching out to suppliers, but they don’t trust me because I’m British.’
‘Couldn’t you use one of your other seven and a half accents?’
Another withering look, but Charlie understood what her friend was implying. That was the thing about Paris, city of reinvention: it welcomed all, but was alsoverysuspicious of anyone not French. It was a weird duplicity.
‘So, Tours.’ Charlie glanced at George’s office door, which remained firmly closed. ‘What’s your play? Are you going to come and help me? Maybe I need a translator?’
‘For a dead body?’ Violet burst out laughing. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, I’m certainly not laughing at the loss of a life …’
‘No, for the police.’
Violet looked confused. ‘The police speak French. You speak excellent French.’
‘Then how are you planning to get leave from your post here to come to Tours?’
‘George will let me go. I’ve been doing a lot of overtime and been to many evenings as his translator. I even went to Germany last week to translate his interview with that vile man, Chancellor Hitler. He gives me the creeps.’ She shivered. ‘A murder is a big story …’
The way Violet’s voice trailed off left no doubt that she was worried about the way Charlie’s last murder story had panned out. Charlie rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t need a babysitter! But I’d love your company.’
‘Just wait there.’ Violet held a finger out to Charlie as she jumped out of her seat and ran to George’s office, entering after just one knock.
Two minutes later, she emerged, failing to suppress a smile. She swept down to retrieve a brown paper bag from the locked drawer of her desk. She slid the brown bag and Aleksandr’s sketches into her huge Hermès bag and grabbed her scarf and hat from the stand beside her desk, before twisting the silk about her neck. ‘We, Miss James, are off to Tours.’
‘What’s in the paper bag?’ asked Charlie, confused.
‘Money for all our expenses. Trains. Hotels. Meals.’
‘You have parcels of money ready to go like that?’