Murder in the Rue De Paradis Read Online Free PDF Page A

in the post-Ayatollah regime, she’d been enrolled in French classes. More grooming and training ensued until she’d been selected for the mullah’s overseas division for further jihad activity. That day, pride and gratitude had swelled Nadira’s heart.
    “ Tiens , Nadira.” Madame Delbard, her employer, the wife of a French pharmaceutical firm manager, called from the stairwell. “Paul’s waiting.”
    “I’m coming, Madame!”
    She took a deep breath, checked the wide-mouth thermos, and tucked it into four-year-old Paul’s Lego backpack. She picked up the infidel’s symbol, a gold crucifix, clasped it and hung it around her neck, before she shut the door. Downstairs, she grinned at the waiting mother and little Paul.
    “The rain’s stopped and we’re all ready. Goodies, too.” Nadira smiled and helped Paul slip his pack over his shoulders.
    “Which park today, Nadira?” Madame Delbard asked, flicking specks from her peach-colored Chanel suit and adjusting her pearl earrings in the mirror of the entryway. An expensive floral scent rose from Madame, competing with the sprays of flowers she insisted that the florist deliver fresh every day. Their apartment encompassed two floors in the former townhouse of the mistress to the Duc de Grammont, as Madame never tired of telling her.
    “The Buttes Chaumont, Paul’s favorite, of course.” Nadira kneeled and slipped a sun hat onto little Paul’s blond hair. “And a treat if he listens well to Nadira!”
    Adoration and excitement battled in Paul’s eyes.
    “I loved that park, too,” Madame Delbard said, with an indulgent smile. “Off you go, take your time. Don’t worry about packing Paul’s clothes later, Nadira. We’re not going to the country house after all. We’re stuck in town a bit longer.”
    “But Maman . . .” Paul pouted.
    “ Desolée, cheri, but we’ll do something special instead,” she said. A small sigh escaped her. “Nadira, tonight my husband’s got a dinner engagement and my appointment might run late.”
    Perfect, thought Nadira. No added chores; she could feed Paul and put him to bed early, then prepare for her mission. She took Paul’s hand in hers, gripping the stroller handle with her other.
    “ D’accord , Madame,” she said and curtsied. Madame liked that.
    * * *
    IN THE PLAYGROUND of Buttes Chaumont, a former gypsum quarry with a superb view, turned into a park by Baron Haussman, Nadira rubbed sunscreen on Paul’s nose, then on her own skin. With her topaz eyes and light complexion, she could pass for European. The Shah’s era had spawned many like her, once members of the educated elite, now in prison or exile.
    She adjusted her pink sun visor, matching skirt, and large white sunglasses, trying to ignore the nakedness of exposed knees and uncovered hair. She longed for the security of the veil. But she’d studied the other nannies’ outfits and knew she must blend in with them on the park bench. Not to look out of place was most important, Ruhal had said over and over. Her mission demanded it.
    “Thirsty?” Nadira asked.
    “Non, ” Paul said, his eyes on the slide.
    “Ah, but I am,” she said, pulling out the extra wide thermos and winking at the other nanny, then averting her eyes from the big-boned Swede in a halter top who fanned herself on the playground bench near the sandbox.
    “Can I go slide?”
    She took the thermos and, as if as an afterthought, reached down into the backpack, then handed a caramel to Paul. “Go ahead.”
    She pushed the Lego backpack with her sandal-shod foot, and it lodged under the bench. A few minutes later, she stood and joined Paul, glancing back. The man in the blue track suit whom she’d seen by the trees was gone. And so was the backpack.
    By the time Paul tired of the slide and the teeter-totter, it was time for more sunscreen and a drink.
    Back at the bench, she reached down and felt underneath. The Lego backpack was back. Fuller and heavier. “Like an