Virgile found a parking space on the Rue Gustave Larroumet and peeked through the window of La Source. No Jeremy. The café, in fact, was nearly empty. Two post-adolescent boys with tattooed arms were on barstools, sipping blond beers. Another boy was playing darts. Sprawled on a seat near the wall, a red-haired woman in a low-neck T-shirt appeared to be flirting with the bartender. Everyone seemed to be hard at work killing time. Virgile went in and sat down on a bench.
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