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“Because they had a fight? You don’t know my dad, Mrs. Kingsley. The man has a wicked temper. He can fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. When things don’t go his way, better watch out.”

“Does he get aggressive?”

“Sure, absolutely. I once saw him hit Mom. I mean, he immediately apologized, and it was only a slap across the cheek, but still. You just don’t do that, do you?”

“No, you definitely don’t,” said Odelia, and I could see that she was wondering why Agatha hadn’t told her all of this.

“Look, I’m not saying he murdered her in cold blood. They had an affair years ago, met again here in Paris, hooked up, only they had some lovers’ tiff, and he ended up killing her. So the guy doesn’t know what to do, he’s panicking, and then he suddenly decides this is the perfect opportunity to get rid of his wife. So he sends that message from Astra’s phone, and then all he has to do is sit back and let the police do the rest. Mom will go to jail for murder, and Dad can get his divorce, free of charge. No expensive lawyers, no settlement. He’s home free.”

“So you think your dad has been wanting to get a divorce for a while?”

Curtis nodded vigorously.“I know for a fact that things haven’t been great between them for years. They don’t think I know, but Dad had that affair with Astra years ago, and he’s had other affairs with other women. But they’ve stayed together for my sake. And then one of my dad’s friends got divorced and the guy got, like, totally fleeced by his ex. Had to pay millions. So that really spooked him.”

“But if what you’re saying is true, then maybe the knife that was used really is your mom’s knife. And your dad brought it to Paris, maybe for this exact purpose.”

Tucker whistled through his teeth.“Which would mean he meant to kill Astra all along.”

“You really think your dad would go that far?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Kingsley,” said Tucker thoughtfully. “But yeah. Actually I do.”

It was obvious here sat a kid who wasn’t all that fond of his dad, otherwise he wouldn’t throw him under the bus like this.

“One more question,” said Odelia. “Where were you last night, Tucker? Let’s say between three and five in the morning?”

“Out,” said Tucker curtly. “They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but the same can be said about Paris. This town rocks, and I’ve been taking full advantage of the fact.”

“So you were out all night?”

“Got in at six this morning.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“Just about a dozen different people.”

“Okay, then you better write down the names of those people and ask them to come forward when the police asks. Though frankly I don’t expect them to. They seem very convinced that they already have their suspect locked up.”

“I really want to see her, Mrs. Kingsley,” said Tucker, scooting forward in his chair. “Can you make that happen, maybe?”

“I think you better get in touch with your mom’s lawyer,” Odelia suggested, “and see if he can’t arrange for you to see her.” She shrugged. “I’m just as much a stranger in this place as you are, Tucker. Meaning I have no pull at all. Zip.”

CHAPTER 17

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After Tucker had left, we waited for Oscar to show up, but when he didn’t, Odelia decided to go look for the producer herself. Clearly the man had more important things on his mind than to try and clear his wife’s name. Then again, if he really was the actual killer, why would he cooperate with the investigation?

We found him in his suite on the top floor of the hotel, and when he opened the door for us, he looked less than pleased.

“What do you want?” he barked as he hurried back into his suite.

The room was nice—much nicer than ours, I have to say. But then Oscar probably was slightly richer than we were.

“I wanted to ask you some questions about Astra’s murder,” said Odelia, glancing around and taking in the opulence of the suite.

“I like this room, Max,” Dooley confessed. “I think I could probably get used to living in a room like this.”

“Me, too,” I said. “And they’ve got a lot more balconies than we have,” I pointed out as we did a quick tour of the suite, through the living room, a dining room, a study, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and then back into the living room.

“I like the feeling of those plush carpets underpaw,” said Dooley. He was right. It was nice to sink into those high-pile carpets. Very pleasant sensation, I thought.

But then of course we weren’t there to rate the carpets but to interview Oscar Kinetic.

“Honestly, I got no time for you now, Mrs. King,” said Oscar gruffly as he groped around for his phone and a thick sheaf of documents.

“Kingsley.”

“I’ve got a shoot to run, and we’re already behind schedule, so you’ll have to excuse me but—”

“You’re not going to keep shooting the show?” said Odelia, aghast at such callousness in the face of recent events.