“Don’t thank me, the card is signed Guy,” he said. “You said something about losing your crown.”
Crown? Oh no. Her father had always called her his princess.
“But I couldn’t find a crown so I brought you this instead.”
She felt something long and slim pressed in her hand. It shone and gleamed, like a dancing flicker of stars. Distorted but steady. She began to focus. Her dizziness had disappeared. “A wand . . . to make your dreams come true.”
She could see it now. She grinned. “They already have.” In more ways than one, she thought. “You sent Vincent’s file to the Proc.”
Miles Davis responded with a resounding bark.
And a gust from the Seine blew in the hospital window, shifting the sheets, freshening the air, a foretaste of a mild winter.
*60 to 65 degrees Fahrenheit.
*At a conversion rate of seven francs to one dollar, this was a price of $10,000,000.