In Their Footsteps / Stolen: In Their Footsteps / Stolen

“Beryl?” he said in relief.

She ran to him, practically knocking him over with the force of her embrace. “Jordie! Oh, my poor Jordie, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, darling.”

“You’re really all right?”

“Never better, now that you’re here.” Glancing over her shoulder, he saw Richard and Daumier standing behind her. The cavalry had arrived. Now this terrible business could be cleared up.

Beryl pulled away and frowned at his face. “You look ghastly.”

“I probably smell even worse.” Turning to Daumier, he said, “Have they found out anything about Colette?”

Daumier shook his head. “A single bullet, nine millimeters, in the temple. Plainly an execution, with no witnesses.”

“What about the gun?” asked Jordan. “How can they accuse me without having a murder weapon?”

“They do have one,” said Daumier. “It was found in the storm drain, very near the car.”

“And no witnesses?” said Beryl. “In broad daylight?”

“It is a side street. Not many passersby.”

“But someone must have seen something.”

Daumier gave an unhappy nod. “A woman did report seeing a man force his way into Colette’s car. But it was on Boulevard Saint-Germain.”

Jordan groaned. “Oh, great. That would’ve been me.”

Beryl frowned. “You?”

“I talked her into giving me a ride back to the hotel. My fingerprints will be all over the inside of that car.”

“What happened after you got into the car?” Richard asked.

“She let me off at the Ritz. I went up to the room for a few minutes, then came back down to talk to her. That’s when I found…” Groaning, he clutched his head. “Lord, this can’t be happening.”

“Did you see anything?” Richard pressed him.

“Not a thing. But…” Jordan’s head slowly lifted. “Colette may have.”

“You’re not sure?”

“While we were driving to the hotel, she kept frowning at the mirror. Said something about imagining things. I looked, but all I saw was traffic.” Miserable, he turned to Daumier. “I blame myself, really. I keep thinking, if only I’d paid more attention, if I hadn’t been so wrapped up—”

“She knew how to protect herself,” interrupted Daumier. “She should have been prepared.”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” said Jordan. “That she was caught so off guard.” He glanced at his watch. “There’s still plenty of daylight. We could go back to Boulevard Saint-Germain. Retrace my steps. Something might come back to me.”

His suggestion was met with dead silence.

“Jordie,” said Beryl, softly, “you can’t.”

“What do you mean, I can’t?”

“They won’t release you.”

“But they have to release me! I didn’t do it!” He looked at Daumier. To his dismay, the Frenchman regretfully shook his head.

Richard said, “We’ll do whatever it takes, Jordan. Somehow we’ll get you out of here.”

“Has anyone called Uncle Hugh?”

“He’s not at Chetwynd,” said Beryl. “No one knows where he is. It seems he left last night without telling anyone. So we’re going to see Reggie and Helena. They’ve friends in the embassy. Maybe they can pull some strings.”

Dismayed by the news, Jordan could only stand there, surrounded by the chaos of milling prisoners and policemen. I’m in prison and Uncle Hugh’s vanished, he thought. This nightmare is getting worse by the second.

“The police think I’m guilty?” he ventured.

“I am afraid so,” said Daumier.

“And you, Claude? What do you think?”

“Of course he knows you’re innocent!” declared Beryl. “We all do. Just give me time to clear things up.”

Jordan turned to his sister, his beautiful, stubborn sister. The one person he cared most about in the world. He took off his watch and firmly pressed it into her hand.

She frowned. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Safekeeping. I may be in here a rather long time. Now, I want you to go home, Beryl. The next plane to London. Do you understand?”

“But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are. And Richard is damn well going to see to it.”

“How?” she retorted. “By dragging me off by the hair?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You need me here!”

“Beryl.” He took her by the shoulders and spoke quietly. Sensibly. “A woman’s been killed. And she was trained to defend herself.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m next.”

“It means they’re frightened. Ready to strike back. You have to go home.”

“And leave you in this place?”