too disfigured to go out in public again.”
“Either way, it doesn’t look good for our friend Janine,” Watkins said. “It’s a premeditated crime, even if the murder was spur-of-the moment panic.”
Evan nodded. “She couldn’t have known that the husband was still alive, could she? She didn’t know him when he came in and she certainly wasn’t expecting him to show up again . . .”
They had reached the metro station. Evan looked up and glimpsed the shape of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. “Eiffel Tower, Sarge,” he said.
“So it is. Oh well, so much for the grand tour of Paris,” Watkins sighed. “I don’t think we’ve even got time for a quick lunch at Maxim’s, have we? It will have to be a sandwich on the autoroute if we want to get home tonight.”
He headed down the steps into the gusty darkness. Evan gave the Eiffel Tower one more glance before he followed. “The first thing to do is to find out if the real Yvette is still in any kind of hospital. That should be easy enough . . .”
“Oh no, boyo,” Watkins said, his voice echoing from the tiled walls. “The first thing to do is to have the phony Yvette brought into custody before she decides to do a bunk on us.”
“Do you think we should visit the police here in Paris before we go?” Evan asked. “We should find out if Janine Laroque has a criminal record.”
Watkins looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think I want to go that far. Contacting the French police would be something for the D.I., wouldn’t it? Especially as we’re not officially over here. We’ll phone HQ as soon as we get back to England. I’m not messing with French phones. I did that once. Never again. We’ll suggest they bring in Janine What-sit and let Glynis find out about her record. With any luck we’ll know everything we need to when we get home. And I think they’ll have to say we did a bloody good job over here, don’t you?”
They took the chunnel back to England at five that evening. Evan had hoped the crossing would be easier the second time, now that he knew what to expect, but he still found himself drenched in a cold sweat and wished he’d taken Watkins’s advice.
“I told you to have a couple of brandies before we started,” Watkins said as they came out into twilight near Folkstone. “You look green around the gills.”
“I’ll be all right,” Evan said. “And I could hardly risk being pulled over and breathalyzed, could I? It wouldn’t look good for the North Wales Police.”
“I could drive,” Watkins said.
“Yes, and we’d spend the night going around the ring road trying to get away from London.” Evan managed a grin. He was recovering quickly now that they were on the open road.
“What time do you reckon we’ll be home?”
“In the middle of the night if we drive nonstop,” Evan said. “But we should pull off at the first place we see and make our phone call to HQ before they all go home for the night.”
“Good idea,” Watkins said, “and it would be a good excuse to stop for a pint and a bite of good English food at the same time.” He chuckled. “I never thought I’d hear myself saying the words good English food—but I’d kill for a plate of bangers and mash or even a warmed-over meat pie.”
They pulled off at the first pub that they saw. Watkins conveyed his message to headquarters and they had a satisfying plaice and chips before heading back to Wales. It was two-fifteen in the morning when Evan drove up Llanfair High Street. The floodlights outside the pub and the Everest Inn had been turned off and the street was in almost total darkness. Llanfair felt like an abandoned, gloomy sort of place, and Evan shivered. He let himself in silently and took off his shoes before he tiptoed up the stairs. His eyes were prickling with tiredness.
Suddenly he gasped as an apparition in white loomed in front of him. At the same moment the apparition gave a scream. Evan recognized the powerful lungs.
“It’s only me, Mrs. Williams,” he said.
“Deed to goodness, Mr. Evans!” Mrs. Williams gasped, leaning against the banister and clutching at her ample bosom. “You nearly scared the daylights out of me.”
“Sorry I scared you, Mrs. Williams, but I just got back from France,” Evan said. His own heart had been racing, too.
“From France? Whatever next. And