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woman answered. He gave his name, and she called her husband, Dr. Jacques Taland.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Inspector?” he asked, sounding anxious.
    â€œIt is about one of your patients.”
    â€œOh.” He sounded relieved.
    â€œMarie-Hélène Jory.”
    â€œI saw her last Friday.”
    â€œMs. Jory passed away, Doctor.”
    Silence settled.
    â€œShe was murdered,” Nico added.
    â€œThat’s horrible! How can I be of help?”
    â€œI need you to send me her medical file. It’s urgent.”
    â€œI suppose that under these circumstances medical privacy does not apply?”
    â€œSend me the papers today, and I’ll send you an order from the public prosecutor. How’s that?”
    â€œI trust you. That’s terrible. I told her she was pregnant. She was beaming. It’s hard to forget that look, even though I deliver this kind of news all the time. Her blood tests should be in soon.”
    â€œIn addition, I need you to make a statement. When can you stop in?”
    â€œI’ll bring the file over myself, say around one this afternoon. Does that work?”
    â€œPerfect. I’ll be waiting for you at 36 Quai des Orfèvres.”
    He hung up and called the Sorbonne. He asked to speak to the dean, a woman named Françoise Pasquier.
    â€œI thought you might contact me this morning,” she said. She had an authoritative voice and didn’t bother with unnecessary introductions.
    â€œSo you know why I am calling?”
    â€œWhat do you think? When a professor misses all of her classes I want to know why. I found out last night. We have her companion’s cell phone number. I am so sorry for Marie-Hélène and her family. She was an excellent teacher. She knew her job inside out and was very attentive to her students.”
    That’s what Nico liked in women, their ability to be attentive to those around them, both in their families and on the job. That and the fact that they killed a lot less frequently then men: Women accounted for only ten to thirteen percent of all criminals worldwide. No testosterone, less uncontrolled sex drive and rape. No doubt about it, he preferred women.
    â€œDid she have any conflicts with her colleagues? Any problems with the administration?”
    â€œNone at all. I’ll guarantee that,” Françoise Pasquier answered. “But I understand that you want to check for yourself. I suppose you will be coming to see us?”
    The dean was clearly a very capable and intelligent woman.
    â€œThis afternoon, around three.”
    â€œI’ll be in my office.”
    They were ending their conversation with the polite formalities when he was told that Terrade and his sister had arrived. He invited them to sit down in the deep brown leather armchairs in his office, with nothing but his desk between them and him.
    â€œHave you found anything?” Paul Terrade asked, clearly anxious.
    â€œIn effect. Your companion was pregnant.”
    The two visitors turned pale at the news. Nico let the heavy silence last, even though he knew it was a questionable tactic, considering the circumstances. Terrade’s sister placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder, and Nico noted that her fingers were white from the pressure she was applying. He could hear Terrade’s breathing, which was full of emotion. Was he acting? That was hard to believe.
    â€œPregnant?” Terrade said with some difficulty.
    â€œAbout a month along. Didn’t you know?”
    â€œNo. Marie-Hélène stopped taking the pill three months ago.”
    â€œMs. Jory found out on Friday. Four days ago.”
    In a stupor, he asked, “Why didn’t she tell me?”
    â€œYou had a busy weekend,” his sister said. “A woman likes to choose the right moment, that special time, to announce something so important. I’m sure she was preparing to tell you, Paul.”
    Terrade collapsed. He sobbed and