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I sigh and walk past him to the kitchen. “I’ll talk to you, but do you mind if I finish Sophie’s ice cream first?”

“It shouldn’t take long, ma’am. I’ll ask my questions while you make dessert.”

“Suit yourself. I must know, though. Am I still a suspect?”

“I didn’t say that you were ever a suspect. I said you were a person of interest.”

“That sounds like a suspect.”

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “No. You’re not a suspect. Did you notice anyone who looked suspicious today? Anyone who behaved out of the ordinary?”

I stop with the ice cream scoop halfway into the ice cream. “Actually. Now that you mention it, I did notice some suspicious behavior.”

He tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yes. Dr. Lukas Meyer—Elena’s banker—reacted very oddly when he heard that the pocket watch theft was being investigated.”

Jacques frowns. “But he knew it was being investigated. We already interrogated him.”

I think for a moment, trying to find a way to tell him what I know without telling him too much. “There’s been a suggestion that the pocket watch may have at one time been owned by a Nazi intelligence agent.”

Jacques stares at me for a moment. “And how did Lukas react?”

“He became very agitated. It was as though he was terrified but trying to convince himself that everything was all right.”

Jacques makes a note in his pad. “Thank you, Mary. This is good information. Anything else?”

“Well… I don’t know if it means anything, but Elena’s been arguing a lot recently with a woman named Margot Keller.”

Jacques sighs. “Yes. I am well-acquainted with Frau Keller. That is an unrelated conflict. Unless you believe that she is involved in the pocket watch theft or the theft of the Kaiser Wilhelm clock.”

“She mentioned something about German intelligence when she was arguing with Elena. I didn’t hear the context of the argument, but it could be related.”

“Yes, it could be,” he agreed. “Now, are you familiar with the Kaiser Wilhelm clock?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“It’s a 1910 design, one of the last by the company before they folded. It’s a desk clock about four inches wide by six inches tall.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s quite small by the standards of the day.”

“It was a design called a miniature. It was larger than a pocket watch but used far more complex electromechanical mechanisms that were different in concept from a hairspring watch. Clockmakers able to make durable, accurate models were highly sought after. The Kaiser Wilhelm piece is perhaps the most famous piece constructed by the Rousseau company. Of course, by the end of the decade, there were dozens of manufacturers who could produce clocks of equal and even surpassing quality. A lot of people think—not inaccurately—that the demise of the Rousseau company was caused by their inability to keep up with modern trends rather than simply a function of the war.” He smiles at me. “Don’t tell Elena I said that, though.”

The change in demeanor when he has a real lead is remarkable. He clears his throat and says, “But back to the matter at hand. Have you talked with Lukas Meyer since the theft of the pocket watch?”

“I’ve talked with him briefly. Sophie is friends with his son Luc.”

Jacques cocks his head when I say that. “Luc. How old is he again?”

“He’s ten years old, the same as Sophie.”

“Hmm. And neither of them have mentioned anything about missing clocks or Nazi intelligence?”

I think of the journal, but I don’t want Jacques to know about it. Not yet.

“No, nothing.”

“Hmm…” He takes a deep breath. “Well, that’s good to know. Thank you for talking to me.”

I nod. “You’re welcome, Inspector.”

“Have a good evening, Mary.”

He turns around, and we both come face to face with a miffed Sophie. “Mary? The ice cream?”

I look at the ice cream to see it starting to melt. “Right. I apologize, Inspector, but as you can see, I have a serious matter to attend to.”

He smiles slightly. “Of course. I don’t want to keep you waiting. Good evening, Mary.” He nods at Sophie. “Miss Sophie.”

When the elevator door closes behind him, Sophie asks, “What did he want?”

“There’s been another theft,” I tell her. “Something called the Kaiser Wilhelm clock.”

Sophie wrinkles her nose. “That boring old thing? I don’t get it. It’s the least impressive clock we have.”

“Well, it was stolen, and your grandmother’s very upset, so please behave for her. No arguing, no attitude, and no incessant questioning. Save that for me.”

She giggles and says, “I will. If you can hurry up with my ice cream before it becomes ice cream soup.”

I hand her a bowl and say, “There. Happy now?”

She giggles again and takes a bite. “Now I am.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. And go upstairs and put on a better movie. I’ll get myself a bowl and be up in a moment.”

***

That evening after Sophie falls asleep, I head straight to my room and pull out the journal. The plot in which this family is embroiled has become quite convoluted. It’s time to find some answers.

And if, along the way, I find some answers about my sister, then so much the better.

The next several entries are not related to the Museum and don't help me understand if Laura is my sister either. I read for nearly an hour and finish over a third of the journal before I come across something that captures my interest.

November 15 th

My first actual snowfall in Geneva! I’m so excited! Carl says it doesn’t snow very much here, and there will never be more than a few inches on the ground, but that’s okay. It’s a much softer and prettier snow than I’m used to. The snow back home is aggressive. It’s like it’s trying to smother you. The snow here feels like it’s caressing you. I like that.

I visited the Museum again today. I think I’m getting an idea of how things went down. The German spies posed as antique buyers who met in Switzerland to take advantage of its neutrality. Carl says there’s no way they could have done that in the middle of a war. I love him so much, but he’s not cynical like I am. I absolutely believe that wealthy people could have bribed their way into pretty much whatever they wanted.

Anyway, I figured it out. The Museum operated as an antique store during the war. That was its front, anyway. Buyers would examine the clocks and leave messages in compartments. Then other buyers would retrieve those messages. The different clocks probably meant different types of messages. I don't know what yet, but if I can find one of the old hidden messages, then I'll know.

Well, that matches Sophie's story and confirms that intelligence agents from Germany used this Museum as a place to exchange messages.

But does that mean Elena is guilty of something?

Perhaps the answer to that has something to do with the secrets Margot and Elena argued about. Maybe Elena really does have reason to fear, and that’s why she’s so worried about Claudia.

Speaking of Claudia, I must find out if she is Annie’s daughter. This journal, I am sure, is Annie’s. The handwriting and style is Annie’s, but the subject matter is decidedly mundane. The notebook celebrates going to the market, enjoying the snow, and visiting museums. This little chase for Nazi messages is the most exciting thing Laura’s done so far.

But maybe Annie settled down. Maybe my sister finally found the happiness that eluded her overseas. Still, there’s no mention of a daughter. I suppose it could be that this journal was written prior to Claudia’s birth, but…

My eyelids droop, and I surrender to my body's need for sleep. The spirit, indeed, is willing, but the flesh is weak.

The last image in my mind before sleep takes me is that of Claudia’s amused smile, the one that looks so much like Annie’s.