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here.” Brian sat on the bed and started opening the bags.
    “Here,” said Jarrod, handing me a Styrofoam cup of steaming black coffee and a bag of still-warm croissants and pain au chocolate rolls.
    Brian pulled out a pair of khaki cargo pants, a pair of jeans, a black V-neck sweater, a white long-sleeved shirt, a package of cotton underwear, toothpaste, toothbrush, mouthwash, deodorant, soap, lavender scented body lotion, half a dozen colorful scarves.
    “Oh, you guys are so sweet! Thank you!” I flung my arms around each one of them and kissed their cheeks. Brian blushed. Jarrod grinned from ear to ear.
    “Where’d you get this stuff?” I took a bracing sip of coffee before retrieving money from my wallet to reimburse them.
    “Courtesy of the local Monoprix store around the corner. We got the scarves and the grub at the street market under the metro tracks. But that’s not important, babe. What the hell happened last night? We waited around for you forever then the next thing we knew the hotel was crawling with police. Someone said the professor had been murdered,” said Jarrod, helping himself to a croissant.
    While I ate, I filled them in on everything. They sat on my bed, their mouths hanging open.
    “Sweet Jesus!” was all Brian could say when he regained speech.
    “Are you sure she wasn’t a hooker?” asked Jarrod.
    “She isn’t anything except dead now.” I shook my head. “I’m surprised you two are still here. Monsieur Marcel said half the guests got scared and checked out last night.”
    Brian nodded.
    “It was like Exodus. Most of our tour group took flight. They wouldn’t even listen when Marcel tried to tell them rooms were scarce all over Paris. The city’s hosting the World Rugby Cup. Some of them came slinking back this morning and the rest demanded refunds and went home.”
    “We don’t scare that easily. We paid for a Paris vacation and we’re not leaving ’til we’ve had it,” said Jarrod matter-of-factly.
    “Well, what about that Australian couple from our tour group, the Bermans? Have you seen them? Meryl Berman walked in when I found the body. She saw Dr. Rice in the shower, too. She could tell the police about seeing my corkscrew,” I said.
    “Sorry, Maya,” said Brian, shaking his head. “After the police left last night, her husband packed her and all their crap into a cab and we haven’t seen them since.”
    That was not good. It meant the French police weren’t concentrating on anyone but little old moi.
    “This is just insane! I can’t even go home if I wanted to. I’ve been told I have to stay in Paris until this mess is cleared up. I’m just a librarian from Columbus, Ohio!”
    We sat in silence for a few minutes while I polished off the remainder of the bread.
    “This is completely ridiculous!” exclaimed Brian, standing up. “Get dressed, Maya. You’re coming to Versailles with us. We’re not going to let you sit around feeling sorry for yourself and hiding out in this little room like you’ve got something to feel guilty about.”
    “Yeah,” said Jarrod, laughing. “There’s nothing like wandering around the palace of a woman who ended up headless to make you realize your problems aren’t all that.”
    “I can’t leave the city, remember?”
    “It’s not like you’re hopping a plane home, babe. We’re only going a half an hour outside the city. Besides, if they thought you were truly guilty they would have just arrested you,” Jarrod assured me.
    “Take your time. We’ll be waiting in the lobby,” said Brian, following Jarrod out the door.
    They were gone before I had a chance to protest further. I didn’t want to go out. Hiding in my hotel room sounded like a pretty good plan to me. But Brian had a point. I wasn’t guilty and I had nothing to hide. Why should I act like a criminal? I paid for my trip, or rather Ben had.
    It was the thought of Ben that got me out of my chair and into the shower. I owed it to myself to have a