Murder in the Marais by Cara Black Read Free Book Online Page A

confidentially.
    "Rachel, she looked up to you, didn't she?"
    Rachel looked surprised but not displeased. "I'm not sure. . ."
    She kept going. "Have I embarrassed you, Rachel? You know how schoolgirls idolize older girls!"
    Rachel shook her head slightly and paused. "I vaguely remember her father. He came back after the war."
    Aimee noticed that Rachel's gaze was focused on the window crisscrossed with crime-scene tape. So there was something, Aimee thought, her heart starting to pound.
    "Why did Lili board up the window, Rachel?"
    A stony look came over Rachel's face. "The winter of 1943 was cold. No one had coal for heat."
    "Lili boarded up the window for warmth?" Aimee said. "But she wasn't here during the whole war, was she?"
    "Water froze in the pipes," Rachel said woodenly.
    Aimee prayed for patience. "Wasn't it hard for Lili here after her parents were taken?"
    "We chipped ice off the fountains. Boiled it for cooking and washing," Rachel continued.
    "What about Lili?"
    "She stayed with the concierge. Downstairs when. . ." Rachel stopped and covered her mouth.
    Aimee leaned forward and gripped Rachel's arm.
    "Go ahead, Rachel, what were you about to say?"
    Aimee was surprised to see fear in Rachel's eyes.
    "Why are you afraid?"
    Rachel nodded and spoke slowly. "You think I'm just a silly old woman."
    "No, Rachel. Not at all." Aimee reached for her hand and held it.
    Finally, Rachel spoke. "They found the body."
    "A body? Who?" Aimee asked. Startled, she leaned forward. Why hadn't Abraham Stein mentioned this to her?
    "Down in the light well." Rachel twisted her neck as far as her bent back would allow.
    "Whose body?"
    "This window looked right out on it."
    "Yes, Rachel, but who was it?"
    "Things happened in 1943," she said.
    Aimee gritted her teeth and nodded. "I know it must be difficult to talk about the Occupation. Especially to my generation, but I want to understand. Let me try."
    Rachel turned to her, her eyes boring into Aimee's. "You'll never understand. You can't."
    Aimee put her arm around the thin stooped woman. "Talk to me, Rachel. What did Lili see?"
    "We had to survive. We did what we had to do." Rachel's stale breath hit Aimee's face. "She told me once that she saw the murder."
    "A murder that happened in the light well?" Aimee said, keeping her excitement in check. "So that's why she boarded up the window?"
    Rachel nodded.
    Aimee willed her face muscles to be still and kept her arm around Rachel's shoulder.
    "That's all she said, wouldn't talk about it after that," Rachel said finally. "There's not many people around who'd remember, there were so many deportations."
    "Was it the Nazis?" Aimee said.
    "All I know is Lili's concierge was murdered." Rachel shook her head. "It's not something people talk about." Her eyes were far away.
    "What do you mean, Rachel?"
    "Only Felix Javel, the cobbler, he'd remember the bloody footsteps. . ." She trailed off, lost in thought. "Past is past. I don't want to talk anymore."
    Sinta, Abraham's wife, clomped into the room. "Listen, Mademoiselle Detective—" She planted her feet apart as if supporting her wide hips and repinned her thick black hair with tortoiseshell combs. Loud beeping interrupted from the folds of her faded apron. "Alors!" she muttered, pulling a Nintendo Game Boy out of her pocket. She clicked several buttons then slid it back inside her apron.
    "Neo-Nazi salopes !" Her voice rang curiously melodic, with a strong Israeli accent. "Day and night, they harass us in the shop," she continued matter-of-factly. "Lili always yelled at them to go away. Told me she wasn't afraid of them, but I guess she should have been."
    "A gang? What did they look like?" Aimee asked. The damp cold permeated her wool jacket. Why couldn't they turn the heat on?
    "Never paid much attention," Sinta shrugged. "I baked in the back kitchen and she handled the customers."
    "Your husband mentioned that she'd been seeing ghosts," Aimee said.
    "Yes, old people do that." Sinta rolled her