“Yes. A boy and a girl.” He shook his head sadly. “I never saw them again, either.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I started to ask him to tell me more about them, but Drew interrupted me.
“Did you ever hear from Daisy or the children? To let you know that they’re alive?”
Pierre perked up for the first time. “Not a letter, but a photograph. It was sent to me anonymously when I was in prison.” He stood and slowly shuffled to a bedside table with a single drawer, its knob missing. With the stubby end of a finger he pried it open and then removed a single photo. He looked down at it for a long moment, letting out a sigh of despair sounding as if it had come from his every pore.
“They are older in this photograph than they were when I last saw them, which means they survived the war, yes?”
“Yes, it would,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. There was no need to crush the last hope this man had managed to cling to. I took the photograph as Drew moved to stand next to me while we examined it. They were beautiful children, the daughter with two long dark braids, a few years older and slightly taller than her brother. They appeared to be in the awkward early teen years, the evidence of childhood fading from the boy’s rounded cheeks and the girl’s wide eyes, their legs long and spindly like a colt’s.
“They’re lovely,” I said, handing the photo back to Pierre.
“And you don’t know who sent it?” Drew asked with an incredulous tone, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he were interviewing a witness to a crime. I wanted to tell him to stop, that Mr. Villon had already suffered enough.
“Non. I liked to assume it was Daisy, because that would mean she was still alive. But there was nothing to trace where it came from or from whom. That would have been so like her. She had good reason to despise me, but she would have wanted me to know that Madeleine and Olivier were safe and well.”
“Why would she despise you?” I asked gently.
Milky brown eyes turned to me. “She considered me an inadequate husband. I tried to give her nice things, to provide for us in the way in which she’d been raised. She had lived at the Ritz, with her grandmère, her entire life, until we married. I only wanted the best for us. But she . . .” He shrugged. “She and I liked different things.”
He sat down again on the filthy sofa as if remembering the past had cost him all of his energy. Unwilling to join him again on the stained sofa or to sit on the unmade bed with dirty sheets, Drew and I remained standing.
“I knew she was having an affair. I never saw them together, but she changed. She was no longer the content woman she’d been. She became someone else entirely so that I barely recognized my own wife.” He stared at the blank wall, his eyes narrowing. “But I took care of that little problem.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He looked at me as if just remembering I was there, as his thoughts moved forward from the past. He shook his head slowly. “She was still my wife, and we had the children together. A man has the right to protect what is his, doesn’t he?”
“Of course.” I tried to sound sympathetic. “So what did you do?”
He shook his head. “I don’t talk about it. I need to find Daisy, so I can say I’m sorry. To beg her forgiveness. And then, perhaps, when it doesn’t weigh so heavy on my soul, I can talk about it.”
Drew cleared his throat. “Did you ever visit her grandmother, the Comtesse de Courcelles, at the Ritz to ask of Daisy’s whereabouts?”
Pierre shook his head. “I was in a Nazi camp during the end of the war, and then a French prison for ten years. When I emerged, the comtesse was gone—either died, or moved, I do not know. Not that she would have ever told me anything. She didn’t like me very much.”
“What of the talisman?” Drew pressed. “Did Daisy ever talk about it, or show it to you?”
“Pfft. It was all nonsense, all that talk of legend. I would have only been interested in the priceless jewels that surrounded it, anyway. This is probably why Daisy never talked about it with me.”
Drew sighed with his own disappointment. “I see. Well, thank you for your time. If you can think of anything else about Daisy or the talisman, we’re staying at the Ritz.”
“How nice for you,” Pierre said bitterly.
We said our goodbyes, but as we were leaving Pierre roused himself again and stood. “If you find Daisy, will you tell her . . . tell her . . .” He stopped, reconsidering his words. “I would like to talk with her. And let her know that even though I know I don’t deserve it, I would like to see the children.”
Before Drew could quell all hope, I spoke up. “Of course, Mr. Villon. I will be sure of it.”
“Merci.”
When we made it outside I had to take several deep breaths to get the stench of despair and neglect out of my nose. I saw Drew watching me. “I know, I shouldn’t have pity on a collaborator. But he wants to see his children. Surely that means there is something redeeming about him?”
“Possibly. Although I’d be curious to know what he did to Daisy’s lover. I have a feeling it wasn’t something nice.” He took my elbow and began leading me in the opposite direction from where we’d arrived.
“Where are we going? It’s a bit late to be caught on this side of town, I think. Perhaps we should head back to the Ritz?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“No? Aren’t you hungry? It’s getting close to suppertime.”
He gave me a grin that seemed quite lascivious. “I already told you, Babs—I’m always hungry so yes, I am. That’s why I made reservations at one of the best restaurants in Paris that happens to be not too far from here.”
“But it will be dark by the time we finish eating . . .”
“Stop worrying, Babs. I promise to get you back to the Ritz safely. But today happens to be my birthday, and for my present I want to take you out for a night of fun. You’ve had a rough few years, without a lot of fun, I think, so here’s your chance.”
I looked down at my jumper. “But I’m hardly dressed to go out . . .”
Before I could finish my sentence, he’d unceremoniously removed my jumper. “There. Now you look even more amazing.” He shoved my jumper into a nearby dustbin, but I stumbled over my complaint as I recognized the appreciation in his eyes as he regarded me.
“But I’ll be cold,” I finally managed.
“Not where we’re going.” His lascivious smile had returned.
“We’re going to hell?”
“Hardly. Just the Moulin Rouge.” He took my arm again and began leading me down the sidewalk. “Have you been before?”
“No. I don’t believe it’s a place one goes with one’s mother and sister, who are the only companions I’ve had on my Paris visits. Besides, my brother Charles told me that there’s an aquarium where naked women swim with snakes. Not really quality entertainment, I don’t think.”
If I’d expected for him to turn us around at that, I would have been wrong. “Yeah, I’ve seen them. Don’t worry. The snakes can’t get out.”
“It wasn’t the snakes I was concerned about.”