Jack shook his head and without saying a word, put the letter Landru had sent to the prosecutor on the table. Then he pulled his little notebook and pen out of his pocket and carefully took off the rubber band holding it together.
Bartolli didn’t plan on taking any notes. Instead, she kept watching Landru closely. She knew from experience that in a tense, highly charged situation like this, every gesture, every facial expression counted. Landru would have carefully prepared for this meeting and obviously had a game plan. The best she could do therefore in the circumstances was to listen and observe.
‘Please listen carefully,’ began Landru, sounding somewhat agitated. ‘We haven’t much time ...’
Dupree waited for Jack and Bartolli at the prison gates. The expression on Jack’s ashen face told him this was not the time to ask questions. That would have to wait. Jack and Bartolli would tell him what happened in their own good time.
‘A cup of tea and a slice of cook’s apple cake back at the chateau might be the way to go; what do you think, guys?’ said Dupree as he manoeuvred the car out of the prison car park and into the busy afternoon traffic.
‘Good idea,’ said Jack and reached for his notebook. Appreciating Dupree’s tact, he put his hand on his friend’s arm. ‘I think a stiff drink might be a better option,’ he said.
‘That bad?’
‘Astonishing would be the right word here; what do you think, Francesca?’
‘It would.’ Bartolli closed her eyes, let herself sink into the seat, and in silence went over the extraordinary encounter with Landru, her analytical mind recording every detail and storing it for later.
Jack opened his notebook and began to scribble furiously in the margin. He always did this immediately after an important meeting, before his memory began to fade and played tricks on him later. He smiled as a ripple of excitement washed over him and he realised that another great story had once again just found him. Destiny in action, he thought and closed the notebook, eager to hear what Bartolli had to say about it all.
By the time they arrived at the Kuragin chateau two hours later, Jack and Bartolli had both digested the extraordinary things Landru had told them and were ready to talk about it. Having so far controlled his curiosity, Dupree was eager to hear it, as he had the added pressure of Lapointe waiting for his report.
9
Kuragin chateau, 4 October
If Jack had thought that inviting Bartolli to stay at the chateau at short notice might be an imposition, he needn’t have worried. Countess Kuragin and the vivacious professor from Rome hit it off from the moment Bartolli dropped her backpack on the floor of the foyer and began to admire the interior of the stunning chateau, while at the same time talking about Italian cooking.
Bartolli felt instantly at home in the chateau. Her natural charm and Italian exuberance drew people to her wherever she went, and those meeting her for the first time were invariably surprised to learn that she was a respected international criminal specialist, who had made it her life’s work to delve into the dark recesses of the criminal mind. After quickly settling into one of the guest rooms and having a hot shower, she went downstairs to join the others for dinner. A splendid duck prepared by cook – who had been forewarned about the visitor’s passion for food – was served in the dining room .
After dinner, everyone went to the music room.
Jack turned to Dupree standing next to him. ‘Just look at those two,’ he said and pointed to Bartolli and the countess sitting in front of the fireplace discussing the merits of a bottle of 2002 Chateau de Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape the countess had retrieved from her cellar earlier.
‘It’s very light on the palate,’ said Bartolli, savouring the delicious wine. ‘Well balanced. Good nose.’
‘From the Rhone Valley,’ said the countess. ‘One of my favourites.’
‘I can see why. You have a magnificent home. And so peaceful; not like Rome.’
‘I love Italy, especially Venice. I would live there if I could,’ said the countess, looking dreamily at her glass. ‘I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. I was in love. It was magic!’
‘Ah, love. That elusive treasure you often find when you least expect it. And when you do and want to hold on to it, it evaporates.’
‘How right you are. And the biggest and most lasting treasure that remains is friendship. If you’re lucky.’
‘They look like old friends,’ said Dupree and took a sip of brandy.
‘I’m so glad Francesca came with me to the prison,’ said Jack. ‘She put it all into perspective. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say about Landru. He certainly wasn’t what I expected.’
‘Why don’t we ask her?’ ventured Dupree, who had endured the entire dinner without even touching on the subject that was on everyone’s mind. ‘Lapointe called three times already ...’
‘I understand, but we needed some time to digest what Landru told us before discussing it with you.’
‘Fair enough, but—’
‘I agree, it’s time. Come, let’s do it.’
Jack walked over to the fireplace, picked up the half-empty bottle on the coffee table and turned to Bartolli. ‘Before we get too comfortable, I think Claude here deserves to know what we found out this afternoon, don’t you?’ he said.
Turning serious, Bartolli nodded.
‘Would you mind telling us what you made of Landru, professionally speaking. Your impressions?’ continued Jack and refilled the two glasses.
Bartolli settled back into the cushions and looked pensively at the glass of wine in her hand. ‘A complex man. Highly intelligent, disciplined and very confident, especially when we consider the circumstances. Obviously gay. He was in complete control of the meeting. He called the shots, as they say. Not a mean feat when you are in prison serving a life sentence. He knew he had something we wanted, and wasn’t going to hand it over without first making us listen to what he wanted us to hear.’
‘He’s been in jail for several years now, protesting his innocence,’ added Jack.
‘Exactly. In my view he put up quite a convincing argument, even after all this time, don’t you think? He pointed out all the flaws in the case against him and suggested that soon, there would be more.’
‘I agree, and it all revolved around one thing: that mysterious cipher left in his prison cell by an anonymous stranger,’ said Jack. ‘All the answers you are looking for are right here, said the note. He obviously became obsessed with this.’
‘Let’s not forget, Landru spent the last four years trying to crack the code. That tells us a lot, doesn’t it? This is a desperate man looking for answers. He believes, you see. He actually believes that he can find those answers in the cipher, if he cracks the code. That’s what keeps him going. This is not the mindset of a guilty man who already knows the answers because he committed the crimes. What would be the point?’
Dupree nodded, hanging on Bartolli’s every word. She had just articulated exactly what had troubled him all these years. ‘And did he? Crack the code?’ he asked, unable to contain his curiosity and impatience any longer.
‘Yes, he did, but before we tell you what the cipher says, you should learn some more of the background, because it explains why Landru asked for me, someone he had never met. Francesca and I discussed this earlier.’
‘That has puzzled me too. Why you, Jack? Do you know?’
‘Partially.’
‘What do you mean, partially?’ demanded Dupree, becoming agitated.
‘Landru didn’t tell us everything. All he said was that he had carefully followed the Ritz murder cases in the papers. He also said that he had read The Lost Symphony, my most recent book about the Ritz murders and the whole Russian story, and that something in the book opened his eyes and helped him crack the code.’
‘Did he say what it was?’ said Dupree.
‘No, not as such, but he did mention Malenkova, the Black Widow, and that all this had to do with her. But what really
surprised me,’ continued Jack, ‘was that he also mentioned Mademoiselle Darrieux and hinted that she too was somehow involved.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘Did he elaborate?’
‘No. He said he would tell us later, when we were ready. Funny thing to say, don’t you think? Instead, he took us through the complicated process of how he cracked the code, and why it had taken him so long. It was all very technical, confusing even, and almost impossible to follow, but we had to listen. He insisted.’
‘How weird. What on earth did he mean by all that? Is he playing games, you think?’ Dupree wanted to know.
‘I don’t believe so,’ said Bartolli. ‘I think he was deadly serious.’
‘What could possibly be the connection here, do you think?’ asked Dupree. ‘The link between the cipher and Malenkova? She’s dead now, gone, and so is her assistant, and ...’ Dupree didn’t complete the sentence and glanced at Jack. He could see the pain in his friend’s eyes and instantly regretted having gone down that path, but it was too late. Memories of Anielka and what happened to her were obviously still raw, and the wounds left behind, deep.
‘No idea,’ said Jack, shaking his head sadly. ‘But I’m sure it all revolves around the cipher; what it says.’
‘Are you going to tell me, or do you want to kill me slowly with suspense?’ said Dupree, introducing some levity to ease the tension.
‘I believe prison has taught Landru something very important,’ said Bartolli.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Jack.
‘Patience. The way he conducted the meeting made that clear. To me, it seemed like a carefully orchestrated chess game, full of purpose and tactics,’ said Bartolli. ‘He was moving us around like pieces on the board. His board; his game. I have no doubt he wants to meet with us again, and in order to do that he knows he has to have something to offer. That’s why he didn’t tell us everything and kept us in suspense. Curiosity is a great motivator.’
Bartolli took a sip of wine.
‘He also knows that Jack is a storyteller,’ she continued. ‘Always on the lookout for the next challenge, the next adventure, the next big story. His books make that clear—’
‘He got that one right,’ interrupted the countess, laughing. ‘Jack’s an adventure junkie. Trust me, I know, and he’s also a hopeless romantic.’
‘Landru wants us to do his bidding on the outside, as directed by him from the inside. Clever, don’t you think?’ said Bartolli. ‘He’s a classic manipulator, a very smart one driven by desperation, but he’s no psychopath. He could be the victim here, not the perpetrator. He even promised Jack the story of a lifetime.’
‘Did he now? And you believe him?’ asked Dupree, frowning. ‘Do you believe he’s innocent and was wrongly convicted, and all of this is about finding the proof?’
Bartolli took another sip of wine and took her time before replying, the anticipation in the room rising, as this was the critical question on everyone’s mind.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Bartolli quietly. ‘I have from the very beginning.’
Dupree turned to Jack. ‘What about you, Jack?’ he asked.
‘I want to take it a step at a time, but this may help.’
Jack reached into his pocket and handed a piece of paper to Dupree.
Dupree looked at it. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘The decoded cipher.’
‘What? Are you serious?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that’s an address here in Paris.’
‘Exactly. But read on.’
‘Deep down in the cellar is a wall. Behind it you will find all,’ read Dupree. ‘How strange. Another puzzle?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Are you suggesting that Landru spent four years trying to crack the code – unsuccessfully, I might add – until he read your book and found a clue?’ said the countess. ‘And this is the result?’
‘Looks that way …’
‘An address and a riddle; is that it?’ said Dupree, looking incredulous.
‘According to Landru,’ replied Jack, ‘it may contain all the answers to what he’s been looking for all these years. Something that will prove his innocence, and clear his name.’
‘But there was something else, remember?’ interjected Bartolli. ‘The strange thing he said on the way out.’
‘You’re right, I almost forgot. As the guard escorted Landru out of the room, Landru stopped briefly, turned around and said something curious.’
‘What?’ asked Dupree.
‘“As you will soon see, there’s more to all this than just my conviction”. That’s what he said.’
Dupree shook his head. ‘Extraordinary. What now?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ said Jack and handed Dupree a cognac.
‘What do you mean?’
Jack lifted his glass. ‘We check out the address tomorrow, break down the wall and see what’s behind it; what else? And if there’s no wall and we don’t find anything, we forget about Landru and go somewhere nice to have lunch. Cheers!’
Bartolli reached for her glass and looked at Jack. ‘Sounds like my kind of plan,’ she said. ‘Salute!’
10
On the outskirts of Paris, 5 October
The address in the decoded cipher turned out to be an abandoned, dilapidated house at the end of a narrow cul-de-sac in one of the poorest districts of Paris. Surrounded on three sides by an overgrown hedge, it was well shielded from prying eyes, and a crumbling wall with a rusty iron gate facing the street kept out uninvited visitors.
Lapointe sat in an unmarked police car parked in front of the house and looked again at his watch. They’re late, he thought and lit his pipe. He had arrived early with a Forensics team, just in case. It was drizzling and an icy wind was blowing across from the Alps to the southeast, a chilly reminder that summer was well and truly over, and winter not far away.
Instead of entering the house upon arrival, Lapointe had decided to wait for Dupree and Jack. Not just out of courtesy, but because he wanted to hear firsthand what Landru had said during the interview. Methodical and cautious by nature, Lapointe realised that everything had to be done by the book, because if even just part of what Dupree had told him about the cipher was true, the house behind the wall could hold unwelcome secrets and surprises that could not only cast a shadow of doubt over Landru’s conviction, but reopen the notorious Death Mask Murder cases. This in turn could quickly become an embarrassment for the police and the prosecutor, with unwelcome consequences further up the chain of command, which Lapointe wanted to avoid at all costs.
Dupree stopped his car, took a deep breath and looked at Jack sitting next to him. ‘You can always rely on Lapointe. He has arrived with the cavalry. This could be interesting; ready?’
Feeling uneasy, Jack nodded and kept staring at the house, the morning mist giving it a mysterious, almost ghostly appearance. Looks like a house of horrors, he thought. Straight out of The Return of the Living Dead.
Dupree turned to Bartolli sitting behind him. ‘Lapointe knows you’re involved, but he doesn’t expect you here, remember? Jack asked you to come along, not me. I don’t know how he’ll react.’
‘Understood.’
‘Leave Lapointe to me,’ said Jack, turning up his collar. ‘What do you make of the place, Francesca?’
‘Theatrical. Almost too much so. It looks like a stage.’
‘Planned, you think?’
‘Carefully, I’d say.’
‘That’s what I thought too, as soon as I saw it. Right down to the ivy almost covering the front door. What does that tell you?’
‘We could be in for a surprise.’
‘Even after all these years? With no guarantee that the cipher code would ever be cracked, revealing the address? A long shot like that?’ asked Dupree, shaking his head.
‘If I’m right, we are dealing with a very different mind here,’ replied Bartolli. ‘Calculati
ng and dangerous, but definitely with an agenda. The uncertainty and the gamble are part of the game. Part of the excitement. Time is not an issue; power over life and death is. This is a long game, but one with a specific purpose. A plan, of that I’m sure.’
‘What kind of plan?’ asked Jack.
‘I wish I knew.’
Jack opened the car door. ‘Then let’s go and find out.’
If Lapointe was in any way surprised to see Bartolli, he certainly didn’t show it. He greeted her politely and pointed to the house. ‘Let’s get out of the rain and go inside, shall we? Good to see you again, Jack. Thank you for helping us out and meeting with Landru. You must tell me about the meeting, but first let’s see what this is all about.’
‘Let’s do that. What do we know about the house?’ asked Jack, certain that Lapointe would have made enquiries overnight.
‘It was bought quite a few years ago from a deceased estate by a company registered in Jersey in the Channel Islands, involved in some kind of security business. Usual web of complex trusts, smoke and mirrors. Typical tax avoidance stuff.’
‘In short, we don’t know who’s behind it, nor are we likely to find out, right?’
‘That’s about it.’
‘Was the house bought before or after the murders?’
‘Good question. Just before.’
It took Lapointe’s men just moments to break down the door. Lapointe was the first to enter the house, followed by Dupree, Bartolli and Jack. Inside it was almost dark, as the windows were covered with cardboard from the inside. Not surprisingly, the electricity wasn’t connected. Lapointe turned on his torch.
The house was empty, without any furniture or furnishings of any kind, not even curtains, light fittings or blinds. The first thing Jack noticed was the smell: rising damp and mould with a hint of pungent rat urine. Layers of old dust covered the floor, scattered with rat droppings. It was apparent the house hadn’t been entered for months, possibly years.
The Death Mask Murders Page 7
