The Three Evangelists by Fred Vargas

twelve days. She disappeared on Wednesday, May 19.’
    The young woman stiffened and stared at the three of them. ‘Missing?’ she murmured. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
    The tears returned to those darting, timid, almond-shaped eyes. She had said she was sad. Maybe. But Marc was pretty sure there was more to it than that. She must have been counting on her aunt to help her to run away from Lyon, to run away from some disaster. He recognised the reflex. And she had travelled all this way, only to find that Sophia wasn’t there.
    Marc sat down beside her. He tried to find the right words to tell her how Sophia had disappeared, how there had been a message with a star on it, and how she was thought to have gone away with Stelios. Lucien came round behind him and slowly took back his tie without Marc seeming to notice. Alexandra said nothing as she listened to Marc’s story. Lucien put his tie back on and tried to be helpful by remarking that Pierre Relivaux was not the greatest person in the world. Mathias lumbered round the room, putting more wood on the fire, adjusting the duvet over the child. He was a beautiful child with dark hair like his mother’s, except that it was curly. And so were his eyelashes. But all children look beautiful when they are asleep. They would have to wait for the morning to see what he was really like. That is, if his mother consented to stay.
    Alexandra pursed her lips and shook her head, looking hostile.
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘Aunt Sophia would never have done that. She would have got in touch with me.’
    ‘Same story,’ thought Lucien. ‘She’s like Juliette. Why do people think they can’t possibly be forgotten?’
    ‘Something must have gone wrong. Something must have happened to her,’ Alexandra said in a low voice.
    ‘Nope,’ said Lucien, passing round wine glasses. ‘We went to some lengths. We even looked under the tree.’
    ‘You cretin,’ Marc hissed.
    ‘Under the tree?’ said Alexandra. ‘You looked under a tree?’
    ‘It’s nothing,’ said Marc. ‘He’s just talking nonsense.’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ said Alexandra. ‘What did he mean? She’s my aunt, I’ve a right to know.’
    Trying to keep his exasperation with Lucien out of his voice, Marc told her in clipped tones about the episode with the tree.
    ‘And you all decided that Aunt Sophia had gone swanning off somewhere with Stelios?’ said Alexandra.
    ‘Yes. Well, pretty much,’ said Marc. ‘I believe the godfather, that is my uncle, doesn’t really think so. And I’m still a bit bothered about the tree. But Sophia must have gone off somewhere, that’s for sure.’
    ‘But I tell you that’s impossible,’ said Alexandra, banging her fist on the table. ‘Even if she was on Delos, my aunt would have called me to tell me what was going on. You could count on her. And anyway, she loved Pierre. Something must have happened to her. I’m sure of it! Don’t you believe me? The police will believe me. I must go to the police.’
    ‘Look, do that tomorrow,’ said Marc, who was at his wits’ end. ‘Vandoosler will get Inspecteur Leguennec to come round and you can give him a statement, if you like. He will even start up the search again, if the godfather asks him to. I think my godfather can get Leguennec to do anything he wants. They’re old friends who used to play cards on board ship in the Irish Sea. But you need to know that Pierre Relivaux was not all that attached to Sophia. When she disappeared, he didn’t report it, and he still doesn’t intend to. It’s his right of course, to let his wife do what she wants. The police can’t interfere.’
    ‘Can’t we call them now? I’ll report her missing.’
    ‘You’re not her husband. And it’s almost two o’clock in the morning,’ said Marc. ‘We’ll have to wait.’
    They heard Mathias, who had disappeared, slowly coming downstairs.
    ‘Excuse me, Lucien,’ he said, opening the door. ‘I had to borrow your window to look