"I've found some...new evidence," Pascal explained. "It could be a lead, but I need to talk to Bertrand Sylvestre again to corroborate my findings."

"What's the new evidence?" I asked as the two of us walked down Rue Michel-le-Comte.

"I'm afraid that's confidential information."

"Come on, Miss Pascal. You can trust me."

"You can't trust anyone in this line of work, Miss Brackenborough," Pascal said. "The evidence I found has to remain secret for now. If this information gets out, it could be disastrous."

"Have you told the police about it yet?"

"Of course not. They've never taken this case seriously," Pascal said. "I'm planning to investigate on my own, and if my suspicions are correct, I'll go to the proper authorities, but for now...I cannot allow someone to get hurt simply because of what I found. I have to ensure that this is more than just a coincidence."

"So why do you need to talk to Sylvestre?"

"I already said. I need to talk to him to make sure that the information I've found is true. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than that."

I wasn't exactly satisfied with Pascal's answer, but nevertheless, I didn't try to think too hard about it. After all, what was the point in obsessing over this? Either Pascal would solve the case, or she wouldn't, and if she wasn't giving me any information, there wasn't much I could do to help her.

When we got to Sylvestre's house, Miss Pascal immediately struck up a conversation with Mr. Sylvestre, while I went to help get Sophie and Jean-Luc ready for school. I tried to eavesdrop on Pascal and Sylvestre, but it didn't seem like they were saying anything of interest. Their conversation was nothing but small talk, but for some strange reason, Sylvestre was fascinated by the private eye, and when Pascal suggested meeting up for dinner again, Sylvestre was quick to invite her over.

As soon as she was gone, Sylvestre turned to me and said, "Miss Brackenborough, is there any chance you could stay for dinner again?"

"Why?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Miss Dupont is coming over again."

"Miss Dupont?"

"She was here a few months ago, shortly after Lajoie died. I'm sure you'll recognize her when you see her again."

"Do I have to stay?" I asked. "I already made plans for this afternoon."

"What plans?"

I blushed, and I quickly realized that I couldn't tell Bertrand Sylvestre the truth. There was no way that he would understand. "I'm going out for coffee with a friend," I explained.

"A friend?" Sylvestre said with a chuckle. "What's his name?"

"Lé..." I said, but before I could say the second syllable, I caught myself. I had to be careful - surely, Sylvestre would hate me if he knew that I fancied women - or more accurately, one woman in particular. "Léandre," I said with a smile, desperately hoping that Sylvestre would believe my lie.

"Léandre," Sylvestre repeated. "A lovely name, isn't it?"

I nodded and then asked, "Can I see him before dinner?"

"I don't know how much time you'll have. Miss Dupont scheduled an early dinner for tonight."

I sighed and then said, "I'll send her...him...I'll send him a telegram to let him know."

Sylvestre left for the conservatory soon afterwards, and after I dropped Sophie and Jean-Luc off at school, I rushed to the telegraph office, and I sent Léa a telegram.

Have to attend dinner with Pascal and the Sylvestres. Meet up later?

MB

P.S. Pascal says she's made a breakthrough in the case

The time I spent waiting for a reply felt like an eternity. I spent the hours reading the newspaper, making tea, pounding away at the piano in hopes of coming up with another brilliant musical idea or simply easing my nerves about my upcoming date with Léa Valencourt, and just before I was about to leave to pick up Sophie, I received a reply to my message.

Alright. See you soon.

Love,

LV

It was only six words, but it was perhaps the most beautiful six words I'd ever seen. My eyes kept drifting back to the word in the middle of the page: love. Despite my countless flaws - my insecurity, my sensitivity, my obliviousness, my obsession with music above all else - Léa Valencourt loved me, and this telegram was proof. I took a paper clip from Sylvestre's study, and I used it to fasten the note to my composition notebook. For the rest of the day, whenever I felt hopeless or down, I looked to that telegram, and I knew that there was someone out there who truly loved me.

Later that day, after I had already given Sophie her piano lesson, Sylvestre and Pascal arrived for dinner. I wanted nothing more than to be at Café de la Paix with Léa, but instead, I was stuck here, listening to Pascal interrogate Sylvestre, eating vegetable stew, and dreaming of her.

"How has everything been going at the conservatory?" Pascal asked as Sylvestre quickly devoured his stew, Jean-Luc blankly stared at the wall, and Sophie fidgeted in her seat.

"Oh, there hasn't been anything too exciting," Sylvestre said. "I do think that the conservatory needs to be more careful about who they let in - I always seem to end up teaching talentless hacks with no appreciation for the art of composition, and it gets worse and worse each year..."

"That's a shame," Pascal said.

"Indeed," Sylvestre said. "I grieve for the next generation - at this rate, there will be no great composers among them, although Miss Brackenborough is certainly getting there."

I smiled, but not even a compliment from Bertrand Sylvestre could distract me from my thoughts of Léa.

"Papa, may I be excused?" Jean-Luc said suddenly.

"Don't be rude, Jean-Luc," Sylvestre said.

"But Romain is coming in an hour..."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"I didn't get a chance to talk to you before Miss Dupont came."

While the two of them were distracted, Pascal scribbled something in her notebook, but when Sylvestre turned back to her, she shoved it back into her purse. "Could you please stay for a little longer?" Sylvestre said to his son. "We don't want to be rude to our guest."

Jean-Luc rolled his eyes and groaned, while Sylvestre leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "How are you doing, by the way?" Pascal asked Jean-Luc. "How's school?" Jean-Luc only responded with a grunt. "Come on. You've got to be a little more specific than that."

"Not great. Antoine still hates me."

"Who's Antoine?"

"Antoine Gattaz. We used to be friends, but now he hates me."

"That's unfortunate," Pascal said. "It's always difficult losing a friend, but at least you have...you said his name was Romain?" Jean-Luc nodded. "At least you still have someone who cares about you."

"I guess," Jean-Luc said. "We have a whole group, really - we play Chicken, Fox, Viper together on Tuesday afternoons."

"Doesn't the Paris Opera have rehearsals on Tuesdays?"

"I meant Thursday," Jean-Luc quickly corrected. "And we don't have rehearsal every Tuesday - it's just some Tuesdays."

"How are things going with the opera, by the way?"

"Fine, I guess. It's just the same thing every night. Solo shows are always more interesting for me."

"Jean-Luc is an incredible performer," Sylvestre said suddenly.

"So I've heard," Pascal said.

"You should see one of his recitals sometime," Sylvestre said. "He can play Paganini like you wouldn't believe."

All of a sudden, Sylvestre noticed Sophie flipping through a children's magazine, and he glared at her. "No reading at the table," he said, and Sophie hid the magazine under the table, but as soon as her father looked away, Sophie returned to reading.

"Maybe you should be a little kinder to her," Pascal suggested. "She's not harming anyone."

"She's being very impolite," Sylvestre said. "Anyways, Jean-Luc has another recital next month, and then we're thinking of touring Europe next winter."

"That sounds lovely," Pascal said.

"I don't know about that, Papa," Jean-Luc said. "I don't want to leave Romain on his own."

"I'm certain he'll understand."

"I don't know," Jean-Luc said as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Trust me, he knows that you have a career to worry about, and the tour will do wonders for your fame abroad," Sylvestre said. He then turned to Pascal and said, "It will also be nice to see all of Europe - Spain, Germany, Italy, Austria-Hungary..."

Sylvestre went on like that for a long time, bragging to Pascal about Jean-Luc and his virtuosic violin skills, while I tuned out the conversation and wolfed down my dinner. Eventually, everyone else finished eating as well, and when Pascal finally left, I told Sylvestre that I was going out for coffee with "Léandre," and I walked out the door by Pascal's side.

"Did you get whatever information you were after?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Pascal said. "I'll have to investigate further before I come to any definite conclusions."

I couldn't tell whether she was telling me the truth, or if she was only telling me that she hadn't found anything in order to throw me off of her trail. Yet, even after sitting next to her for the entire dinner, I still had no idea what evidence she had discovered, or what she needed from Sylvestre.

I was about to say goodbye to Pascal and head to the coffee shop, but I realized that I had left my purse in Sylvestre's study, so I suddenly ran back into Sylvestre's house, and when Sylvestre gave me a strange look and asked why I was back so soon, I explained that I had accidentally left my purse behind and sprinted into the study. When I got there, I soon found my purse, but I also spotted a half-open drawer, and I peeked inside.

That was when I found it.

There was a note inside - the paper was slightly yellow, as if it had been hiding inside that drawer for a long time - and when I took it out, I instantly realized what it was.

Bertrand,

I'm sorry it had to turn out like this. I'm sorry I cannot be the wife you wanted, the mother Jean-Luc and Sophie needed. I'm sorry I cannot become someone other than who I am and who I've always been.

If you're reading this, please know that I am safe, but I will not return. Do not cry for me, for there is no purpose in doing so. It will not bring me back to Paris. Stay strong for the children, and give them all of my love.

And if you need someone to blame for this, there are five people who have brought untold misery onto my life so far, five people who I am running from and five people from whom I will never escape.

Johann Bergmann

Pierre Lajoie

Léa Valencourt

Paul Saint-Yves

Bertrand Sylvestre

Goodbye Bertrand, and know that this is for the best.

With love to all,

Claire Sylvestre