"She's in France."
"Is she making any progress?"
"It's too early."
"I worry about her. I think maybe she's traveling too much. Today travel can be dangerous." He hesitated. "Very dangerous."
The air in Nice was cold and crisp, and Dana wondered what the weather had been like on the day Paul Winthrop was killed. She got into the Citroen waiting for her and started driving up the Grande Corniche, passing picturesque little villages along the way.
The accident had happened just north of Beau-soleil, on the highway at Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, a resort that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea.
As Dana approached the village, she slowed down, observing the sharp, precipitous curves, wondering which one Paul Winthrop had gone over. What had Paul Winthrop been doing here? Was he meeting someone? Was he taking part in a race? Was he on vacation? Business?
Roquebrune-Cap-Martin is a medieval village with an ancient castle, church, historic caves, and luxurious villas that dot the landscape. Dana drove to the center, parked the car, and went to look for the police station. She stopped a man coming out of a shop.
"Excuse me, can you tell me where the police station is?"
"Je ne parle pas anglais, j'ai peur de ne pouvoir vous aider, mais - "
"Police. Police."
"Ah, oui."He pointed. "La deuxième rue a gauche."
"Merci."
"De rien."
The police station was in an old, crumbling, white-walled building. Inside a middle-aged, uniformed policeman sat behind a desk. He looked up as Dana walked in.
"Bonjour, madame."
"Bonjour."
"Comment puis-je vous aider?"
"Do you speak English?"
He thought about it. "Yes," he said reluctantly.
"I would like to speak to whoever is in charge here."
He looked at her a moment, a puzzled expression on his face. Then he suddenly smiled. "Ah, Commandant Frasier. Oui. One moment." He picked up a telephone and spoke into it. He nodded and turned to Dana. He pointed down the corridor. "La première porte."
"Thank you." Dana walked down the corridor until she reached the first door. Commandant Frasier's office was small and neat. The commandant was a dapper man with a little mustache and inquisitive brown eyes. He stood up as Dana entered.
"Good afternoon, Commandant."
"Bonjour, mademoiselle. In what manner can I be of assistance?"
"I'm Dana Evans. I'm doing a story for station WTN in Washington, D. C., about the Winthrop family. I understand that Paul Winthrop was killed in an accident around here?"
"Oui. Terrible! Terrible. One must be so careful driving the Grande Corniche. It can betres dangereux. "
"I heard that Paul Winthrop was killed during a race and - "
"Non. There was no race that day."
"There wasn't?"
"Non, mademoiselle. I myself was personally on duty when the accident occurred."
"I see. Was Mr. Winthrop in his car alone?"
"Oui."
"Commandant Frasier, did they do an autopsy?"
"Oui. Of course."
"Was there any alcohol in Paul Winthrop's blood?"
Commandant Frasier shook his head. "Non."
"Drugs?"
"Non."
"Do you remember what the weather was like that day?"
"Oui. Il pleuvait. It made rain."
Dana had one last question, but she asked it without any hope. "I don't suppose there were any witnesses?"
"Mais oui, il y en avait."
Dana was staring at him, her pulse quickening. "There were?"
"One witness. He was driving behind Winthrop's car and saw the accident happen."
Dana felt a quick sense of excitement. "I would appreciate it very much if you would give me the witness's name," Dana said. "I want to talk to him."
He nodded. "I see no harm." He called out, "Alexandre!" and a moment later his assistant came hurrying in.
"Oui, Commandant?"
"Apportez-moi le dossier de l'accident Winthrop."
"Tout de suite."He hurried out of the room.
Commandant Frasier turned to Dana. "Such an unfortunate family. Life istres fragile. " He looked at Dana and smiled. "One must take one's pleasure when he can." He added subtly, "Or whenshe can. Are you alone here, mademoiselle ?"
"No, my husband and children are waiting for me."
"Dommage."
Commandant Frasier's assistant returned with a sheaf of papers and the commandant scanned the papers, nodded, and looked up at Dana.
"The witness to the accident was an American tourist, Ralph Benjamin. According to his statement, he was driving behind Paul Winthrop when he saw achien - a dog - run in front of Winthrop's car. Winthrop turned the wheel to not hit him, went into a big skid, and plunged off the cliff and crashed into the sea. According to the coroner's report, Winthrop died instantly."
"Do you have Mr. Benjamin's address?" Dana asked hopefully.
"Oui."He glanced at the paper again. "He lives in America. Richfield, Utah. Four-twenty Turk Street." Commandant Frasier wrote the address down and handed it to Dana.
She tried hard to control her excitement. "Thank you so much."
"Avec plaisir."He looked at Dana's bare ring finger. "And, madame ?"
"Yes?"
"Say hello to your husband and children for me."
Dana telephoned Matt.
"Matt," she said excitedly. "I found a witness to Paul Winthrop's accident. I'm going to interview him."