AS BURKE EXPECTED, JEAN was back that afternoon, asking about Fortin and Côté. Burke told him they’d stopped by to ask him some questions involving the case against Madame Marois and her son.

“I can see you aren’t telling me everything, my friend,” Jean said, waving an admonishing finger.

“For the moment, I can’t tell you everything,” Burke said. “Now, I have a question for you.”

Jean sat back and waited.

“Would you and your wife be willing to take in a dog?” Burke asked.

“Ah, you mean our little friend Plato?”

Burke nodded.

“As it happens, we’ve already spoken at home, and I’ll be picking him up tomorrow morning,” Jean said. “We had to clear it with Madame’s lawyer. Like you, we were concerned Plato might get the chop.”

Burke was relieved. Plato was a fine animal.

They talked a few more minutes, and then Burke got a new visitor—François Lemaire, with big Antoine in tow, who was carrying an oversized camera bag. Satisfied he wouldn’t get any more new information, Jean excused himself and left.

“We came once before, but you were sleeping like a baby,” Lemaire said.

“You’re not such a good-looking baby, though,” Antoine added.

The two newcomers made idle chat with Burke about his injuries, but he sensed they were there for other reasons.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Lemaire said. Then he motioned to Antoine.

The big man hauled out a video camera from the bag, turned it on and approached Burke.

“When we were here the other day, we took a couple of photos of you and some video, too,” Antoine said. “We were probably not supposed to do that, but no one was around, so we did.”

“Why?” Burke asked.

Lemaire jumped in, saying the newspaper had to explain what had happened to their top blogger, adding that photos and video would help emphasize the seriousness of the situation.

“We ran the photo on the website,” Lemaire said, showing Burke his smartphone, which had the website pulled up for viewing. There Burke lay, stretched out sleeping. He was not a pretty sight, and with all the machines hooked up to him, he looked like his next breath could be his last. “We put up a little video, too. If the hospital authorities ever see it, we might hear from them, but I’ll worry about that later.”

Burke was too tired to care one way or the other about what Lemaire had done.

“We had a lot of response, a lot of hits,” Lemaire said. “So here we are hoping you can give us a few comments, which we’ll post as a video blog.”

Burke smiled to himself. Lemaire was always thinking news and seeking an angle. Burke relented and said he’d cooperate.

Lemaire suggested Burke discuss how the accident happened, as well as if anyone had been charged in connection with the incident. Burke took a minute to think and then said he’d describe what happened but couldn’t get into specifics about the criminal case.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Lemaire said.

Burke took a few moments to compose his thoughts, and then, with Antoine filming him from a meter away, he recounted what he remembered.

After he was done, Lemaire suggested a second take, urging Burke to put more volume into his voice and more drama into his words. The editor could be a pain, but Burke agreed and did a second take, which seemed to please the newsman.

“That’s much better. Now, we’ll need to follow this up soon,” Lemaire said after watching Antoine double-check the quality of the video. “Maybe tomorrow, Antoine can come back and do a follow-up video. You could talk about how you’re coming along.”

“I’m coming along OK, according to the doctors,” Burke said.

“OK, but you can be a little more dramatic than that,” Lemaire said.

“I’ll think about it.”

That was the most Lemaire would get out of Burke on the matter.

“Any chance you can type on a computer?” Lemaire asked, frowning at Burke’s extensive injuries.

“Only with one or two fingers on my right hand,” Burke said. “So I’m going to say no.”

“That’s a shame,” Lemaire said. “It would be nice to have you do some written blogs. No matter. That’s not a big deal. We can work around that. Right now, the video blogs will be fine. You’re a hot commodity, Paul.”

Burke didn’t feel so hot. For the first time, he wondered about his new TV gig. He doubted the station would wait for him to recuperate. Television worked with the here and now. In a few months, he’d be just a distant name in someone’s memory.

Lemaire and Antoine excused themselves and left. Moments later, though, the big man was back in the room.

“I told François I forgot to tell you something about working on your next blog,” Antoine said. “I didn’t want him around when I ask you if I have anything to worry about from the flics.”

“What?”

“Do they know about our hack into the city video system?” Antoine asked with a worried expression.

“They know I was somehow involved in a hack, but they don’t really care who got into the system,” Burke said. “They wanted my information. The person who did the hacking is a small fish to them, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Antoine nodded. Then he smiled.

“That’s good,” he said. “Maybe we can work together again on something similar.”

“You mean another murder or hack?”

“I vote for both,” Antoine said, grinning.

Then he left.

A few minutes later, Hélène showed up. She was unusually bubbly, talking about new adventures at the café. After discussing a new menu she was working on with the chef, she leaned close to Burke’s bedside.

“I have a suggestion,” she said, smiling gently.

“For what?”

“You’re going to be in here for a while, and someone needs to look after your apartment,” Hélène said. “And then there’s what happens when you’re released and can go home. You’ll need someone to help you. I think that person should be me.”

Burke hadn’t thought at all about his apartment or what he would need when he was released. His mind had been tied up with his injuries and then with the Madame Marois situation.

She was right. He would need help, and there would be no one better than Hélène. But he didn’t want her to be a housekeeper or a nurse, and he told her that.

“I wouldn’t be there as either,” Hélène said. She blushed a little. “I’d be there as your partner.”

There it was. She wanted to move in with him, and this seemed the perfect time.

Burke’s heart beat faster. He had never lived with a woman before. He’d dated and had had a few extended female guests, but a full-time, live-in companion was an entirely new matter. He liked the idea.

“I accept your proposal,” he said with a smile.

“Excellent!” Hélène said, and they kissed.

Burke told her he would likely be in the hospital at least two more weeks.

“With your key, I’ll move in over the next two days,” Hélène said. “I’ll tell your landlady so she doesn’t think I’m squatting.”

Burke asked about her own apartment back in Nice.

“The lease is almost up, so this is perfect timing,” she said.

He wondered if she was actually just looking for a cheaper place to live, then dismissed the idea. Burke believed in their relationship. Now he just had to accept this new direction.

“I’ll pay my share of the rent, of course,” Hélène said, almost as if she had read his mind.

They kissed again.

“This will be perfect,” she said, beaming. “I’ll be close to the café, and I’ll be nearby to help you. And then when you’re better, you can pay me back.”

“Pay you back? How?”

“In a variety of ways,” Hélène said, “but I guarantee you will enjoy every one of them.”