“Of course,” he said, showing his teeth.

John took his daughter to a nearby restaurant and ordered pasta for both of them. He hadn’t seen her for a month. He’d been too busy and had missed all available week ends they were supposed to be together.

“Are you okay Dad?” she asked.

“Of course, baby,” he said. “I’m always happy to see you. I really missed you, you know?”

“How much did you miss me?” she asked, smiling.

John joined his hands together in front of him, then spread his arms wide open. “That much!” he said playfully.

Claire giggled. “Okay!” she said.

“How’s school? Did you make new friends?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. A lot!”

“How many?”

She cocked her head to the side and held four fingers in the air. “Six!” she said proudly.

John chuckled. “You mean six,” he said, showing his left thumb and his opened right hand.

She nodded.

“How’s Mom? Does she have a new friend?” John knew he shouldn’t ask but he couldn’t help it. He was curious even when he wasn’t working as a Detective, and even when he knew it would hurt.

Claire nodded again. “But he’s ugly.”

John laughed. “Daddy looks better?”

She nodded. “He has only one blue eye. I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” John asked. “He’s got only one eye? Like a pirate?”

She shook her head this time. “The other eye is brown. It’s weird.”

“Aw, I see. Well, your mom probably thinks it’s beautiful. One blue eye, one brown eye. Pretty rare,” he said. “He came home?”

She shook her head. “No. I saw him outside. He was talking with Mom. She told me he was her friend.”

“Okay. Come on, finish your pasta. You’re going to be late for school,” he said, realizing time was flying.

Then his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number.

“Montclair,” he said.

“John, it’s me. Cécile. How are you doing?”

John smiled. “Hey, Cécile. I’m great. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said. “I heard you were in the building for your investigation. I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me? My treat. It’s my way of saying thank you for last night.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said. “And you already said thank you.”

“I insist, really,” she said.

“Well, I’m having lunch with my daughter, actually.”

There was a silence, as if she was processing that new piece of information. “You have a daughter?” she said, surprise in her voice.

“She’s five. Her name’s Claire.”

“Hellooo, Cécile,” Claire said loudly.

“Did you hear that?” John asked. “I think she already likes you.”

Cécile laughed. “That’s adorable,” she said. “Say hi for me.”

“She says hello,” John said to Claire. “Stop playing, eat.”

“Is it a family lunch?” she asked.

“No, we don’t have any family lunches anymore. Her mom and I are divorced.”

“Aw, I see. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s okay, I’m fine with it,” he lied.

Silence again.

“How about tomorrow?” she asked.

“Tomorrow?”

“Lunch, I mean.”

“It might not be a good idea,” he said. “We’re officially investigating now. People might see us together. It’s not very professional, you know. And I don’t want to go to the other side of the city just to avoid that.”

“Correct,” she said.

Silence.

“Thanks for the offer, though,” he said after a while.

“No problem,” she said. “Enjoy the time with your daughter.”

“Thanks.”

John hung up and asked for the bill. They were late and Claire had to go back to school.

“Is she your new friend, Dad?” she asked.

He smiled and sighed. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Yes, she is.”

“You like her?”

John nodded. “Yes.”

“So ask her to be your friend Dad,” Claire said. “It’s easy!”

John paused and looked at his daughter, amused.

“Good idea,” he said. Then he seriously thought about it. Claire was right. Why not? Plus, Cécile was the one who had initiated the conversation. So John wouldn’t look like a pain in the butt by asking her out.

“Yeah,” he said out loud. “I should do that.”

He took his phone and hit the call-back button.

“Cécile?” he said.

“Yes?”

“How about dinner? Tomorrow night,” he said.

He could tell she was smiling. “Sure,” she said. “See you tomorrow, John.”

7

John dropped Claire at school and drove back to La Défense. Sovann and the team of Detectives were having a coffee break. Most of the employees were out for lunch and there wasn’t much they could do. John decided to join them and took an espresso.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“We’re going to start with the HR department this afternoon,” Sovann said. “So far, people have been kind of reluctant talking to us, but the general impression about Dupont is consistent.”

“Meaning?” John said.

“He’s not very popular. He seems to be a hypocrite – that’s probably why he’s moved up so far on the company by the way. Most people wonder how in the world someone like him ended up supervising all the recruitment for the bank.”

“Tells us a lot about the banking world,” John said with a smile. “Anybody complained about violent behavior or a serious anger management problem?”

Sovann shook his head. “But you know what? It’s hard to tell if they’re telling the truth or just covering their ass. We can’t blame them. These guys still have to work together when we’re gone.”

John nodded. “What about Genet?”

“Not much. She was on good terms with everybody, no particular problem. No known enemies.”

John paused for a moment. “I don’t know if we’re going to get anything in here,” he admitted.

“What do you want to do, then? It’s not like we have many leads to work with,” Sovann said.

“We still have another place to check,” John said, throwing his cup of coffee in the nearby bin. “We finish what we’ve started here and tonight, I’ll bring you to Pigalle.”

Later that day, John and Sovann arrived at the Paris red light district. The Pigalle area was full of tourists, as well as locals, all determined to enjoy Paris by night without inhibitions. The streets and the pavements were still wet from the afternoon rain, but the sky was now clear although dark. John checked his cell phone once again, looking for the exact location of Le Club Coquin, the BDSM club where Dupont was supposed to express his wildest fantasies.

After a short walk in a dark alley crowded with dealers and working girls, they arrived in front of a black door. Nothing on the outside indicated there was a private club behind. No signs. Nothing. Just a number on the wall.

“Supposed to be here,” John said.

“How do we approach this one?” Sovann asked.

They could get in by force, using their authority as police officers, but cops weren’t exactly welcomed in the neighborhood. John knew from experience that in this kind of environment, they could become outnumbered within seconds.

“Civilians,” John said. “Just regular customers looking for a good time.”

Both of them were straight out of the bank, still wearing suits. The perfect business attire. John knocked at the heavy door while Sovann stayed behind him, watching their backs. A huge black doorman appeared in the doorway. He stared at them, silent.

“Bonsoir, monsieur. Err, is that Le Club Coquin?” John asked, trying to sound like a nice guy. He was probably overdoing it, he thought.

In his experience, most doormen were complete douchebags. They were used to having people beg them, seeking their approval to get in. Even the hottest and most confident women felt vulnerable around them, anxious to get a piece of the fun. So John had to act nice.

The man crossed his arms. “It’s not going to be possible,” he said.

John expected it. “Why not?” he asked, faking surprise.