Identity [antikvár]

A hotel in a small town on the Normandy coast, which they found in a guidebook. Chantal got there Friday night and would spend a night alone, without Jean-Marc, who was to join her on Saturday around noon. She left a small valise in the room, went outside, and, after a short stroll through unfamiliar streets, returned to the hotel's own dining room. At seven-thirty, the restaurant was still empty. She sat down at a table and waited for someone to notice her. At the far side of the room, near the door to the kitchen, two waitresses were deep in discussion. Since she hated to raise her voice, Chantal got up, crossed the room, and stopped beside them; but they were too absorbed by their topic: "I'm telling you, it's ten years already. I know them. It's terrible. And there's not a trace. None. It was on TV." The other one: "What could have happened to him?" "Nobody can even imagine. And that's what's horrible." "A murder?" "They looked everywhere." "A kidnapping?" "But who would do that? And why? He wasn't a rich guy, or important. They