Two Crosses
“There was no use in showing him the ugly bruise around her eye. She had a feeling he might somehow care, and she didn’t want David Hoffmann to care. She only wanted him to talk. Five hundred francs Jean-Claude had given her, with five hundred more if she could bring M. Hoffmann to him.A shaft of sunlight peeked through the billowing clouds. Rosie clicked her heels and wiggled her hips as if it were any other day in the world. She wished that she could go with the smart American. Jean-Claude was... beginning to frighten her. Don’t think of it, Rosie. Don’t even think.She turned onto the Canebière, the main street in Marseille, busy, loud, full. He had said to meet him where the cours Saint-Louis joined the Canebière, where the whole world sat and watched. The black-skinned sailors and blond-haired cadets, the buxom, white-teethed women from Martinique, the tourists in bold, hot colors waiting for the next trip to the Château d’If. As if on cue, M. Hoffmann stepped out of the shadows.MoreLess
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