The Paris Librarian (27 page)

“Sure. What are you expecting to see?”

“I think Benoît was headed there that night, but someone called him off. Not just called him off, but came and picked him up. That's why we never saw him.”

“And you think whoever picked him up might be on that footage.”

“Yes, I do.”

“It's worth a shot, although that kind of tape can be pretty grainy if it's at any distance. We may be able to see the person but not be able to tell who it is.”

“That's OK,” said Hugo. “I just need the tape to confirm my suspicions.”

“What do you mean?”

Hugo paused for effect and flashed a smile at Tom, who stood in the doorway, watching intently. “I mean, Camille, that I already know who it is.”

The pizza was good, and probably because Tom had requested extra garlic on it. On them. He'd ordered three, a vegetarian one for Merlyn and Miki, a meat-laden one to share with Hugo, and an extra one for his breakfast the next day.

“Indian food still big in England?” Hugo asked as they gathered around the coffee table. He'd put Band of Horses on his iPod, their
Mirage Rock
album playing gently in the background.

“Always,” Merlyn said. “Like pizza, it'll never disappear.” She took a bite. “Napkin please,” she said to Tom, who handed her one.

“Don't wipe your fingers on my couch,” Hugo said.

“You're safe.” Merlyn studied her fingertips, then the crust of her pizza on its plate. “How is it that pizza crust looks totally dry, but it's impossible to eat it without getting grease on your fingers?”

“Great philosophical question,” Tom said, pouring red wine for everyone. “I imagine it's the same reason that a mosquito always flies past your ear before biting your ankle.”

“What the heck are you people talking about?” Hugo asked. But his eyes were on Miki Harrison, who'd said virtually nothing since coming in. She picked at her pizza, took tiny bites, and chewing seemed like a conscious effort.

“The great questions of our time,” Merlyn said.

“I have one,” Hugo said. Something in his tone of voice had all three looking at him. “Why are you heading back so suddenly?”

“It's not sudden,” Miki said, with a sharpness to her voice that she noticed herself. She looked down and softened her tone. “At least, not really. And we're just across the Channel, we can be back in a couple of hours if we need to be.”

“Well, I'm sorry, but you can't leave,” Hugo said. “Not just yet.”

“Aww, that's sweet, Hugo, you'll miss us?” Merlyn batted her eyelashes at him playfully.

“Actually, I'm serious.”

Tom rubbed his hands together with glee. “Here it comes.”

“Here what comes?” Merlyn looked back and forth between them all, her eyes lingering on Miki, who stared down at her barely touched food. “Hugo, what's going on?”

“That was my question for Miki,” Hugo said.

She looked up slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about the reason you're leaving Paris in such a hurry.”

“I told you, I'm not, we're just—”

“You're scared,” Hugo said. She said nothing, just looked at him, so he went on. “And I don't blame you for that, but you can't leave. For one thing, running away never solved anything, and for another you're now a witness.”

“A witness to what?” Merlyn said. “Hugo, stop messing with us.”

“I'm not. Something you said to Tom on the phone today made me wonder, set me to thinking. You said Miki had to drop something off at the library.”

“So what?” Merlyn said.

“I'll let you tell her,” Hugo said to Miki, but she got up and went to the window. “Fine, I'll do it myself. Miki's writing about Isabelle Severin, using her collection as source material. Which made me wonder what exactly was Miki dropping off.” Hugo silenced Merlyn with a gesture. “Would I be right if I said you have no idea?”

“I mean, a book,” Merlyn said. “I assume a book.”

“Except all the books about Isabelle Severin are now part of the collection, none of which can be checked out.”

“Oh, I didn't know that,” Merlyn said.

“So what was she dropping off?” Tom asked. “Or wasn't she?”

“She was. Right Miki?” Hugo said. Miki flashed them a look over her shoulder, then went back to staring out of the window. “She was dropping off some keys. A set of keys that belonged to Paul Rogers, to be more precise. I'm guessing she dropped them somewhere in the stacks, or maybe the conference room. Somewhere they'd be found pretty easily.”

“Why would she have Paul Rogers's keys?” Merlyn asked.

“And how?” Tom chipped in. “You thought Alain Benoît stole them.”

“So he did,” Hugo said. “And I'm an idiot for not putting this together sooner.”

“For fuck's sake, man, spit it out,” Tom said.

“Yeah, what the hell's going on, Hugo?” Merlyn asked.

“Miki's scared because her partner, Alain Benoît, was killed. He and Miki had started collaborating on the Severin stuff. I don't know if they were planning on writing a book together or what, but they were working together to figure out whether the legends about her were true. Right, Miki?”

At the window, she gave an almost-imperceptible nod and her voice was a whisper. “How did you know?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Hugo stood and went to Miki Harrison, guiding her to a chair beside the couch. When she sat, she had tears in her eyes.

“Holy cow,” Merlyn said quietly, “that guy Benoît was your boyfriend.”

Miki laughed quietly. “Not my boyfriend, but I was interested.” She looked at Merlyn, Tom, and then Hugo. “He's gay, you know. So yeah, that was going nowhere.”

“You're sure he's gay?” Hugo asked.

“Yes, I heard him talking on the phone with his boyfriend.”

So
, Hugo thought,
he wasn't having an affair with Sarah Gregory.
“How did you meet him?” Hugo asked.

“Online, while I was in England doing initial research into Severin. Then we connected here.” She looked at Hugo. “How did you know?” she asked.

“I didn't, to be honest. But it was the only thing that made any sense.”

“How so?” Miki pressed.

“Once we assumed it was Benoît who took Paul's keys, the only reason I could think of was an interest in the Severin collection. He was obviously planning to sneak into the library and get into the safe to see what he could see. We couldn't figure out why he didn't show up at the library, but it dawned on me that someone had called him off, and probably gone over there to pick him up.”

“But how did you know that person was Miki?” Merlyn asked.

“The first connection was the interest in the Severin collection, of course,” he said. He turned to Miki. “And you mentioned something that didn't click with me initially, while we were at Deux Magots,” Hugo said. “You told us you knew someone who once had access to the Severin collection, but no longer does. That describes Benoît. He was a friend to Paul and, of course, is also a journalist.”

“That's right,” Miki nodded.

“Tom said he was followed that night. But he came straight from the restaurant after talking to me. Whoever followed him had to have done so from there.”

“Yes,” she said sheepishly. “There were several taxis right outside.”

“I'm sure, at a tourist spot like that.” Hugo held up a finger to stop Merlyn from interrupting. “Last of all, since you'd not said anything about being in competition with Benoît, which I think you would have if you were up against each other, I could only conclude that you were working together.”

Miki nodded. “You're right, but that's not all.”

“What do you mean?” Hugo sat back on the couch as a light came on in his head. “Wait, I've been assuming you sought out his help, as a local, as a journalist, and as a friend of the man in charge of the collection. But that's not right is it?”

“No,” Miki said. “It's not.”

“He was the one in the basement. The one Michelle Juneau heard that night.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“The point is,” Hugo continued, “he was working with Paul, wasn't he?”

“I don't get it,” Merlyn said. “Paul Rogers and Benoît were working on what?”

“I think,” Hugo said slowly, the cogs starting to spin in his mind, “that Paul was taking advantage of his position. Using his access to the Severin papers to provide information to Alain Benoît.”

“He was,” Miki said. “It's not as bad as it sounds, though. I mean not as sneaky.”

“Looks pretty fucking sneaky from where I'm sitting,” Tom said.

“No,” Miki insisted. “They were going to honor Isabelle Severin's wishes to keep it all secret until after her death. But Paul said that they needed to have a book ready to go when she died. I mean, when that happens there's going to be a ton of interest and just imagine, imagine a tell-all book revealing new and amazing secrets from her days in the war.”

“Instant bestseller,” Hugo said.

“Totally. Compare that to having to wait to begin everything, how long it would all take. Writing the book, getting a publisher, the editing and marketing, and all the time interest in her waning.”

“It makes perfect business sense,” Hugo said. “Is that what Paul was working on in his
atelier
?”

“No,” Miki laughed. “That really was his novel. That's why he wanted Alain to help, to actually do the writing. It sounds mean to say now, but he wasn't a confident writer, really. I saw some of his novel and it was fine, some of it pretty good but he didn't think so. Anyway, he said he'd never written in a journalistic way so that's why he secretly brought Alain on board.”

“But when Paul died, Benoît was left on his own,” Hugo said. “And he couldn't suddenly start working in the open because people knew he was friends with Paul and Sarah, it would look strange. That's why he needed you.”

“Yes,” Miki agreed. “And he thought I'd have more access since I was friends with you, since you knew Paul and were at the library a lot.”

“Back up a minute,” Tom said. “How did you know to call off Benoît from breaking into the library on Saturday night?”

“Luck, I guess,” she said. “I happened to call Michael Harmuth after Hugo did. He said Hugo warned him to stay away from Alain, and that the police were making sure the library was secure. Something like that. Anyway, something in my voice gave away to Michael that I knew Alain, and he accused me of being involved.”

“Were you?” asked Merlyn. “You bloody better not have been.”

“No. I didn't know he was going to those extremes, I promise.” She frowned. “I may be wrong, but I think he was trying to cut me out of the loop.”

“Why do you say that?” Hugo asked.

“Well, he didn't tell me about this. And he'd started being secretive, calling and texting someone and not telling me who. I mean, maybe he was cheating on his boyfriend, but he could've told me about that, I don't care. He seemed to be actively hiding stuff from me.”

“Wait, back to Saturday night,” Hugo interrupted. “Where did you go when you picked him up?”

“Back to his place. He gave me the keys to the library and said I should return them, drop them anywhere in the building. He even wiped his prints off them.”

“So the question becomes,” Tom said, his eyes firmly on Miki, “who killed Alain Benoît?”

“Don't you dare accuse me!” she said, indignant.

“You have a suspect in mind?” Hugo asked Tom.

“Maybe and maybe not.” Tom said. “But we probably shouldn't ignore the fact that the last person to see him alive was also about to be cut out of a very lucrative book deal.”

Miki Harrison paled as Tom's words sank in. “Me? No!”

“Tom's right,” Hugo said gently. “You definitely can't leave the city, and I need to let Lieutenant Lerens know all this. It's your choice what to do, Miki, but running away doesn't look good.”

“But I didn't do anything!” she insisted. “I could never hurt someone, no way. And for a book? It's important, but I wouldn't commit a crime for it.”

Hugo shook his head. “Well, that's not entirely true, is it? Something else I noticed about our discussion the other day. I told you I'd been out to Isabelle Severin's home and you didn't ask me any questions about where it is. That suggested to me that you already knew.”

“What do you mean?” Miki asked, her eyes wide, fearful.

“Let's just say that it might speak well of you if you give it back.”

Miki swallowed. “Give what back?”

“The thing you and Alain Benoît stole on Saturday morning,” Hugo said. “The Severin dagger.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE