"And she obeyed?"
Jacques asked.
Amru Singh nodded. "There was little else she could do." "May I speak to her?"
"If you wish," Amru Singh answered.
"But I suggest someplace other than here.
They would perhaps misconstrue what she might say."
"But the police have already sent for a doctor," Jacques said. "Will he not- "
Amru Singh smiled. "The doctor will merely confirm that she is in shock."
Which was exactly what the doctor did.
Jacques turned to the Inspector.
"If you will permit me, Inspector, I shall escort Mademoiselle Marlowe to her home. I will bring her down to your office tomorrow afternoon, after her own physician has attended her, to make a statement."
The Inspector bowed.
In the taxi, Jacques leaned forward and gave the driver Rina's address. "I think it would be better if Mademoiselle Marlowe were not to go to her own apartment," Amru Singh said quickly. "There is much there to remind her of her late friend." Jacques thought for a moment, then gave the driver his other address.
Amru Singh walked into the apartment and Rina followed him docilely.
Jacques closed the door behind them.
Amru Singh led her to a chair.
He gestured and she sat down. "I have taken away my shoulder," he said quietly. "I can no longer speak for you. You must speak now for yourself."
Rina raised her head slowly.
Her eyes were blinking as if she were awakening from a deep sleep.
Then she saw him.
Instantly, the tears rushed to her eyes. She flung herself into his arms.
"Jacques!
Jacques!" she cried. "I knew you would come!"
She began to sob, her body trembling against him. The words kept tumbling from her lips in wild, disjointed sentences.
"Shh," he whispered soothingly, holding her. "Don't be afraid. Everything will be all right."
He heard the door open and close behind him. He turned his head slightly.
Amru Singh was gone.
The following day, they went to the Inspector's office.
From there, they went to her flat and moved her things to his apartment.
Two nights later, when he had come into the apartment unexpectedly, Amru Singh rose from a chair.
"Amru Singh is my friend," Rina said hesitantly.
Jacques looked at her, then at the Indian. He stepped forward quickly, his hand outstretched.
"If he is your friend," he said, "then he is my friend, also."
The Indian's white teeth flashed in a smile as their hands met in a warm clasp.
From that time until now, the three of them had dinner together at least once a week.
Jacques turned the key in the door. He stepped aside to let Rina enter, then followed her into the bedroom.
As soon as she entered, she kicked off her shoes. She sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing her feet.
"Ah, that feels good."
He knelt in front of her and massaged her foot.
He smiled up at her. "You were very beautiful tonight."
She looked at him mischievously.
"Monsieur le Ministre thought so," she teased. "He said if I should ever consider another liaison, to keep him in mind."
"The old lecher!" Jacques swore. "He must be all of eighty years old – and at the Opera, too!"
She got up from the bed and took her dress off, then seated herself, yoga fashion, on the floor. Her legs were crossed under her, her arms formed a square in front of her chest.
"What are you doing?" he asked in surprise.
"Preparing for meditation," she answered.
"Amru Singh says that five minutes' meditation before going to sleep relieves the mind and the body of all its tensions."
He removed the studs from his shirt and placed them on the dresser.
He watched her in the mirror. "It would be very easy for me to become jealous of Amru Singh."
"That would make me very unhappy," she said seriously. "For then I would have to stop seeing Amru."