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accidental. People fall out of boats or into deep water and can’t swim. They panic and struggle to reach the surface, and sometimes doing that they exhaust their energy reserves. Or they swallow large quantities of water at the same time that air is escaping from their lungs. Alcoholics fall facedown in three inches of water, and because they’re barely conscious they’re unable to roll over.”
    “And the doctors know it’s an accident because…?”
    “The totality of the circumstances, Jacques. Sometimes from witnesses, in other cases because the evidence points to only one conclusion. Do you know facts you haven’t told us? Any idea how Lisette got to the pond? I didn’t see a car there. And it’s a long walk in from the road.” I was talking at high speed. “Do people really swim in that water? It hardly seems the site for an accident.”
    “Well, no, I wouldn’t think—”
    “A few instances of drowning are suicidal. Think Virginia Woolf, Captain.”
    “Who?”
    “You don’t read enough, Jacques. An Englishwoman,” I said.“She walked into a river after loading her pockets with heavy rocks, which took her to the bottom and made it impossible for her to survive. Manic depression.”
    “So she was sad, too, this Woolf person?”
    “Not sad like Lisette,” Luc said. “Mentally ill.”
    “And you know this girl wasn’t a psych case? Is that what you’re saying?”
    “I haven’t a clue, do you understand? I don’t know anything about her except that she was quite comfortable stealing from me.”
    “Then there’s murder,” I said. “Someone may have held Lisette’s head under water until she drowned. An ugly death. If she was conscious when she went down, she would have been struggling, both to breathe and to get free of her attacker. Then the coughing and choking would have begun as she took on water, and convulsions next, before respiratory arrest and death. Minutes, probably. Achingly long minutes during which she knew she was likely to die.”
    “So who am I looking for?” Jacques Belgarde put his fingers to his lips for several seconds before he spoke again. “Someone who—”
    “Someone? Maybe more than one. Who knows what it took to get her into the park in the middle of the night?” I asked. I didn’t tell him I was reminded of the voices I’d heard when I was trying to get Luc’s door open. “The autopsy will eventually tell you whether she was drinking or drugged. Perhaps there are bruises on her neck, under her clothing.”
    “This will spook the tourists for certain. The mayor will be on my ass to solve this one fast.”
    “Just like in New York,” I said. “Political fallout is a common side effect of homicide, Captain.”
    “Talk to my sommelier, Jacques. Some of the younger guys on my staff may remember who her friends were and who dated her. Maybe they even kept in touch,” Luc said. “Or they might be aware of who else she crossed, besides me.”
    There was a knock on the door and Claude Chenier entered,pushing us farther inside as he extended his hand with several pages of paper in it. “For you, Captain. From Paris.”
    “That was fast,” Belgarde said to his young officer, lighting another cigarette.
    “We can’t be sure, sir. It’s just a name check and a guess at the girl’s age.”
    Chenier backed out as the captain glanced at the documents, then looked up at Luc and shook them in his direction. “The National Police. They seem to know your Lisette Honfleur, too. They share your low opinion of her character.”
    “I didn’t say I had an opinion, Jacques. I don’t know—”
    “Is that her criminal record?” I asked.
    “It is indeed,” Jacques said, coming out from behind his desk and bending over to scoop up one of the skulls, spinning it around to examine it more closely. “Not that it tells us why someone targeted you with these human remains, Luc, but maybe we know where they came from.”
    “What does it say?”
    “Two arrests,