Murder On the Ile Saint-Louis
“A church bell chimed outside; leaves fluttered in the breeze and couples ducked into a nearby brasserie. It was a beautiful night on the Ile Saint-Louis, the island in the heart of Paris. She ran her chipped gigabyte green fingernails over the laptop keyboard; she had to finish system maintenance and get her client’s network up and running online by nine-thirty. Only twenty-seven minutes to go and she was exhausted, but she knew she’d manage it. All she had to do was concentrate, but after five straight hours, her brain rebelled. She rubbed her black-stockinged calf with her foot. One more system to check, then voilà.From somewhere under the papers piled on her desk the phone trilled. Miles Davis, her bichon frise, who was nestled at her feet, awoke with a bark.“Allô?” she said. She heard someone panting and the sound of a wailing siren in the distance.An obscene phone call?“Oui?” she asked, in a brusque tone of voice. “You have to help me!” a strange woman said.“Who’s this?”“Go to th...e courtyard.MoreLess
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
10 / 10
User Reviews: