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through midday traffic jams and commercial loading zones to come to a stop a block from our destination.
    We both dismounted and packed our helmets into the saddlebags. Luc reached for my hand and pulled me toward him, and I accepted his warm embrace. He stroked the back of my head. “We’ll talk at lunch.”
    I nodded as we headed around the corner to La Croisette, the grand boulevard that formed the iconic image of the French Riviera. Royal palms created a majestic centerpiece as far as one could see in either direction, reminding me that the town had originally been built as a mild-weather winter resort for the very rich more than a century ago. The great hotels—the Carlton, the Martinez, and the Majestic Barrière—looked like elegant fortresses, matrons of an era gone by, on one side of the road, while a brilliantly colorful band of beach umbrellas lined the strip of sand at the water’s edge.
    “Are we going to L’Ondine?” I asked.
    “That’s your favorite, isn’t it?”
    “Far and away.” We had sampled many of the seaside restaurants, but this one was special to me. Luc’s father had taken us there on my first visit. He had a maxim that had served him well in the business: the best restaurant is the one where you are best known.
    “That’s where I reserved.”
    We were arm in arm crossing the boulevard. Like all the resorts on the Cannes waterfront, the restaurant was down a flight of stairs from La Croisette. Plage L’Ondine had a glassed-in dining room, but we chose always to rent lounges and a large umbrella—eye-catching in a cheerful canary yellow with clean white trim—to sit outside on the beach and swim in the Mediterranean between courses.
    The maître d’ was an old friend of Luc’s, who greeted him enthusiastically and kissed me on both cheeks. He led us to our usual spot, telling us that rumors about the success of last night’s dinner had already circulated throughout the food community in Cannes. Apparently the bad news about Lisette hadn’t traveled quite as quickly.
    Luc was indeed well-known here. A waiter appeared instantly with a bottle of champagne and a menu for me as we made ourselves comfortable on the chairs. The royal blue umbrellas to our left and the bright pink ones to our right marked neighboring establishments, filling for the afternoon with locals, tourists, and visitors from the sleek yachts that jammed the colorful port.
    The waiter filled our glasses and disappeared before we clinked them together. “Cheers, Alex. Ask me whatever you want and let’s get on with the day. Everything else here is perfect.”
    “Tell me all you know about Lisette.”
    “Darling, you’re more exasperating than Jacques Belgarde.” Luc pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and squared off to me. “I barely had anything to do with her. You know the long days and nights I spend in the restaurant, charming the guests. Well, tryingto, anyway. She was upstairs in the office a few hours, two or three times a week. She always seemed down, like I told him. Her entire demeanor was off-putting to me, so I had no reason to engage her. I thought she was a druggie, too.”
    “You didn’t say that.”
    “Because I don’t know for sure. Why make it worse for her?”
    “It can’t get any worse for her than it is. And you didn’t report that crime to the police.” I wondered whether Luc really had anything to hide from the tax authorities.
    “Sip your drink. You’re here to relax and I don’t want all those bubbles to go to waste.”
    “When we left the police station this morning and you went back to your office, did you talk to anyone else about Lisette?”
    “I wanted to see how many reservations we had for lunch, to make sure all my VIP customers were well seated. I went back to take care of business before I took the afternoon off to attempt to seduce you,” he said, signaling the waiter to come back.
    “That doesn’t answer my question.”
    “Yes, yes. Okay? Yes, I