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’ ‘Why?’ ‘I was told by the motel owner that you’re Tom’s girlfriend. I want your name for the record, as a witness to these answers.’ Tom’s brow furrowed, and Bill knew he was trying to remember what else he’d said to Mr. Wentworth. The woman rolled over and sat up beside Tom. She kept her face downcast and hidden behind hair. ‘My name is Hannah Roundtree.’ Bill wrote it down. ‘So, Hannah, what’s going on? Are you Tom’s girlfriend? Did you take his truck yesterday without permission?’ ‘Hey!’ Tom stood up. ‘What’s up with that shit? She didn’t do anything.’ ‘Is that right, Hannah? Then why is he covering for you? Tom, you go to a motel without a vehicle, say it was stolen, and then, all of a sudden, Hannah shows up with your truck, out of nowhere? You tell me you don’t know her name. Something ain’t right.’ Tom pointed at the door. ‘Get out. I’m done. I told you all I know. Leave us alone.’ Bill folded his notebook, left a business card on the desk, and calmly headed for the door.. Darius was in another room and with a feeble coffee scent spread in the air it wasn’t hard to guess why he was fussing there. Delilah was not the biggest fun of foreign songs but a French song playing in another room sounded like a prayer for everlasting happiness. She didn’t know where Darius found the song ‘La Vie En Rose’ sung by Andrea Bocelli and Edith Piaf but she thought: ‘This is the song meant to start mornings like this one’, French language and the melody of the song was so neat, free, calm, beautiful and intimate that it even strengthened her to overcome the shame of waking up at another home, in a man’s bed for the first time. She was peacefully but greedily breathing fresh air, sweetening of listening to the song in waiting of Dr. Darius’ next surprise. Melody was about to tell goodbye to its new biggest fan when Darius stepped in the room with accustomed smile and self-confident voice: ‘Bonjour mon amour,’ said he, placing a tray laden with a cup of coffee, muffin.
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