"Who is it?" Jason asked rather timidly."I'm a friend of Margaret's Jason. She asked me to look in on you andmake sure you are OK and have everything ...ou need," a soft, womanlyvoice from the other side."Well I am OK but haven't got what I need." Perhaps I can help darling. If you would let me in?" But I haven't got a key." No, but there is one darling. If you look inside the kitchen cupboardto the right of the sink, Margaret told me she left one in the potmarked tea."Sure enough there was a key. ”I crossed my arms, still wary, “So, what? You just woke up and thought, ‘Hey, I’m feeling kinda Catholic today’? Let’s head to the chapel?”“Pas vraiment,” he chuckled again, and straightened his knife, “I think your oils must’ve stirred me. Blew the dust off a memory or two. But understand,” he leaned toward me, “I’m a godless man, Miss Foster. I worship beauty. Nothing else.”Blasphéme, I bit my lip, Monsieur D’Albert. Does that make Evelyn his La Maupin?“Beauty...” I breathed, “Is that why. More

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