by Ivo Fornesa
‘Pfff, not so great. Everyone thinks they’re already covered for everything, and it’s getting harder and harder to convince them they need more, or to upgrade the plans they already have. It’s crap. Believe me, I actually envy you, making your little wooden shoes here in peace. Which reminds me’ – Blareau poked his finger into his chest – ‘since you know Monsieur Shennan’s widow and the new people leasing the château, couldn’t you recommend my services? I think the Shennans owe me one.’
‘I know Madame Shennan well enough that I wouldn’t dare give her any recommendations. She knows perfectly well what she wants. As for the new tenants, all I know is that they’re Russian and coming from there. When I meet them, if it comes up, I’ll put in a good word for you.’
‘Thanks, you’re a good chap. Here’s to you.’
Blareau ordered two more beers, and Laurent didn’t know how to say no. The clinked their glasses and, after taking a sip, Laurent asked him, ‘Why did you say the Shennans owe you one?’
The insurance agent was rather intoxicated and slurred his speech. ‘They don’t really owe me anything, but I gave the late Monsieur some good advice, especially in view of his subsequent misfortune.’
‘Come on, Blareau, don’t be so mysterious, it doesn’t suit you. You’re dying to tell me everything. Would you like another Carterius?’ offered Laurent, feeling a bit wretched for using alcohol to refresh his companion’s memory.
‘I’ve got no secrets from you, Laurent.’ He was totally sloshed, so Laurent assumed nothing he said would be entirely true. ‘Two months before he died, Monsieur Shennan stopped by my office and told me a very strange story, then announced he wanted to take out a special life insurance policy on account of the fact he was always travelling to high-risk countries. The premium he wanted to get was very high, and of course I’d never offered policies like that. Besides, there was the question of his age: he was past fifty, and you know what the requirements are like in those cases. I told him for a policy with such a high premium, I’d have to send it to the central office for approval, but if he wanted to save time, he could get a complete medical check-up to attach to the report. He didn’t much like the idea of seeing a doctor, or of waiting, so he left. But much to my surprise, a few minutes later he came right back, saying it was lunchtime and he didn’t like eating alone, so he invited me to join him.
‘We went to L’Escargot, and over good food and better wine, we told each other our life stories. The guy may have been rich, but he treated me like an equal. And I felt bad we’d made it so difficult for him to get his policy. With everything he was doing for the town, and with such small daughters …’ Laurent could easily imagine a crafty Shennan deploying all his seductive arts on poor Blareau, who was easy prey. Probably before they’d finished the aperitif, he’d had him wrapped around his finger. ‘Anyhow, I gave him some advice on how to get a medical certificate right away and talk to an American insurance company that could offer policies with the kind of premium he wanted. He was very grateful, and a week later he sent over a case of wine with a card. What a gentleman, Laurent. They don’t make them like that any more.’
The news that Shennan had been looking for better life insurance shortly before his death, and indeed had been so desperate to get one that he’d even had lunch with this bore Blareau, came as a surprise to Laurent. It reminded him of what Father Gérard had said about a supposed illness. He said goodbye to his companion, urging him not to try to drive home, then went to the kitchen to pick up the empanadas he’d ordered by phone. With the precious cargo in his possession, he returned to the vicarage to prepare for Cathy’s arrival. He was burning with desire to see her, and to tell her what he’d just discovered about Tum’s key ring and Shennan’s insurance policy. He decided to ask her to help him track down some information.
As he set the dining room table it occurred to him he should downplay how excited he was to see her. He decided to unset the table and pretend he’d forgotten about dinner, and ask her to help him throw something together. He put away the plates and cutlery, acknowledging, to his credit, that his behaviour would provide plenty of material for any psychoanalyst.
A CONVERSATION
OVER EMPANADAS
Cathy arrived a bit later than planned, and Laurent decided to feign surprise upon seeing her: she found him in his favourite armchair smoking a cigar, cradling a glass of cognac and reading a magazine, as though he hadn’t remembered their date. But if he was expecting a scene, he was utterly mistaken: instead of getting angry, Cathy laughed.
‘You’re a disaster, Laurent! How could you forget I was coming over? But I’m glad, because on my way over I was thinking you were too perfect, too much of a gentleman. I like seeing your boorish side. Come on, let’s make dinner. I could eat a literal horse.’ No sooner said than done: she threw off her slim gabardine coat and grabbed one of the aprons hanging behind the door. ‘I suppose you didn’t remember to get the empanadas …’
With an impish grin, Laurent showed her the package from Le Juanch’s. She smiled, seeing it had all been a joke, and hugged him with joy, as Laurent chided her.
‘Woman of little faith! Come on, let’s eat. I want to bring you up to speed on my discoveries about Carlos’s death.’ Laurent felt her shoulders stiffen as she pulled back in his arms.
‘Don’t tell me you’re still obsessing over that. I thought you’d finally forgotten about it. I don’t like you going back over it.’
Her reaction caught him off guard. Until that very moment he could have sworn she took an interest in the investigation too, but he realised that Cathy considered the case closed and was irritated he’d gone and dug it up again.
‘Don’t say that, I never said I’d finished, I just let it go because I saw I couldn’t find a way forward. But what I learnt today changes everything. Come on, sit down next to me and I’ll tell you all about it.’
She turned toward him in resignation and sat on one of the chairs. ‘Fine, I’ll hear you out, but this had better be interesting, because I’m really sick of this topic.’
Once they’d sat down at the table, Laurent poured two glasses of chilled Sancerre and told her what had happened just a few hours previously, both about Tum’s key ring and the inebriated revelations of Blareau.
Cathy listened to him attentively, without interrupting, and when Laurent was done, she asked, ‘All right. What conclusions do you draw from these two pieces of information? Because frankly, to me, they don’t prove a thing. As the Chinese cook said, the key ring could easily have gotten lost in the shuffle with the inventory. As for the insurance policy, I don’t have a fortune, and I’m younger and less of a globetrotter than Shennan, with no children or husband to worry about, but I always make sure to keep my life insurance policy up to date, not only because my job is more dangerous, but also because I want to make sure my mother will get something if anything happens to me. So it makes plenty of sense that a rich man of a certain age with a fast-paced lifestyle would do the same. And if he then went on to die, and his widow wound up with a fat bit of treasure … Well, that’s a coincidence, but his foresight is no doubt a comfort to his family.’
Laurent couldn’t believe his ears. ‘How can someone of your experience not think what I just said is significant? Fine, I see you’re not interested. Don’t worry, I won’t go on about my nonsense any more. Let’s finish setting the table and eat dinner.’
‘Wow, what a grown-up reaction! The gentleman’s gone and got his knickers in a bunch!’ said Cathy. ‘You’re like a child; you’re lucky I put up with you. Come here, sit down and tell me your theory.’
‘No. I’ll pursue my obsessions on my own time. I wouldn’t want to bore the lady.’
‘Please, Laurent. There’s no need to fight.’ Cathy was getting impatient. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking. We’ll analyse it and see if there’s anything I can do to help. But please, let’s do that while we eat.’
‘All right,’ said Laurent. The smell of the empanad
as was making him hungry. ‘We’ll eat and talk.’
Music soothes savage beasts, and the beef empanadas with chimichurri seemed to have a similar sedative effect. Laurent once again became his usual pleasant self, always happy to spend a nice evening with Cathy.
Once they’d sat down, she said, ‘Now you can expound your theory. I promise I’ll listen.’
Laurent again summarised what they both knew, this time adding to the details of the policy and the key ring his encounter with Madame Mayumi in the château before he left, and how strange her attitude struck him, not only because she wanted to seal off the entrance to the passageway herself, but also because she looked so surprised when he asked about Tum.
‘What are you trying to say? That his wife killed him off for the life insurance policy, and that’s why you found her praying in front of the spot where he died? I don’t think so. From what you’ve told me, she’s now taken Shennan’s place overseeing his business, and it seems to still be going well. Besides, you’ve told me on several occasions that despite his somewhat loose morals, his wife seemed to be in love with him.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ Laurent had to admit, ‘but put it all together: business wasn’t going as well as it once had; the château was a money pit, according to his wife; he was in precarious health, as Gérard told me and Blareau confirmed … and add to all that what Madame Mayumi said, about how she’d do anything so as not to jeopardise her daughters’ future …’
‘The only way I can think of to help you is to contact the security team working the night of the party. I could have us all get together again, explain your theory and see what they remember. We could also review everything the cameras and mics recorded, both the ones we installed with the owners’ knowledge and the ones we put in without their consent. Yes, I think that’s best – I’ll work on my co-workers. We’ll spend a few hours reviewing what we have, and if there’s anything suspicious I’ll call you right away, I promise. Now let’s finish this delicious meal and head upstairs.’
Two hours later Laurent decided that stuffing oneself with Argentine empanadas doused in chimichurri wasn’t a good idea just before embarking on amorous exploits.
THE PRYING EYE AND OTHER
TECHNOLOGICAL WIZARDRY
Laurent sat in his workshop, happily working on a pair of clogs. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, and the sky above was a deep blue. Chimay dozed at his side, and the aroma of wood permeated the air.
He was sanding a sole when his mobile rang. It was Cathy, and he picked up right away. She didn’t give him time to say so much as hello.
‘Laurent, where are you?’
‘Hi, Cathy, I’m at the workshop. What’s the matter? You sound upset.’
‘Get home as fast as you can and turn on the computer. I’m sending you something you have to see right away. Trust me. I wanted to surprise you and bring it to you in person, but my car’s in the shop and there’s a train strike.’
Laurent got up and hurried back to his house without even taking off his apron. His computer was on his kitchen table, and he’d left it on. He checked his email and saw he had two messages from Cathy, one of which was quite large. He opened it, and the message was intriguing, to say the least:
I hope you’re sitting down while you watch what I’m sending you. Call me.
He was burning with curiosity.
Unfortunately, the internet at the vicarage wasn’t very good, and the connection dropped three times before he could download the file. When he’d finally got it, Laurent called Cathy.
‘Hi, I’m about to open the file you sent. Is it really such a big deal?’
‘You know I don’t like to waste time, honey, so I managed to get everyone together who was working the night Shennan died. I told them about your project and your theories, and suddenly Slawomir, who was team leader that night, remembered something. Apparently the nanny caught his eye – he thought she was hot, and he might have been watching her more closely than necessary. He even said he was tempted to call her later on, but of course, given everything that happened, he figured it wouldn’t be wise. And after going over those videos again, I think he was right.’
‘Hold on, I’ve finally got the file open, I’m watching.’ Laurent frowned impatiently as the recording started to play. It had been taken in the hallway to the sitting room, where he’d met with Madame Mayumi and Xiao Li before setting out to search for Shennan.
‘Watch the video and tell me where you are, and I’ll put it at the same speed on my screen so we can discuss it. Pause yours so they’re synchronised.’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’m seeing a shot of the hallway, a hallway with a huge tapestry on the wall with mythical creatures. Got it?’
‘Yes, one second. OK, on the count of three we’ll press play. One, two, three. Here we go, now pay attention to everything.’
The quality of the film impressed Laurent. The image, though in black and white, was crisp and distinct. Suddenly he saw a woman walking from the other end of the hall. It was Tum.
‘I can see Tum. It’s odd, because from what I see in the time signature, I had just seen her a few minutes before this with the girls and Thierry. What’s she doing there?’
‘Shut up and keep watching,’ said Cathy.
Tum turned quickly, as though checking to make sure there was no one behind her, and then crossed the sitting room and ducked behind one of the enormous curtains that covered the windows. She waited there, and a few seconds later Shennan appeared. Then she came out of her hiding spot, and the two met in a long embrace that gave way to an extended and seemingly passionate kiss. The sound quality in the recording wasn’t quite as good as the film, so it was hard to make out more than moans, but there was no need to anyway, because the content left no room for doubt. In the video, Shennan unbuttoned Tum’s shirt and kissed her delicate, small breasts as she breathed more and more heavily. Suddenly they stopped. Shennan took his telephone out from the breast pocket of his blazer, gave Tum a kiss on the forehead and hurried out of the room. She stayed behind and started to button up her shirt, then walked to one of the large Venetian mirrors, stood before it and fixed her hair, smiling to herself. The image in the mirror was unmistakable: it was the face of a woman in love.
‘Sweet mother of God!’ exclaimed Laurent. ‘I never would have imagined this.’
‘Now calm down and watch the second segment. It’s taken from another camera and occurs just seconds after Shennan left the nanny. Watch his face.’
Laurent obeyed, and they followed the same procedure to watch the video simultaneously. This footage, shot from a corner, showed Shennan walking up with his hands in his pockets. Suddenly he looked up, and his face could be seen in perfect clarity: it was the face of a man afflicted with the same ailment as Tum. His enraptured expression was almost ridiculous.
‘Cathy, this is pathetic. It’s like something out of a Victorian novel where the lord of the manor runs off with the governess. The worst part is, Carlos looks like he’s died and gone to heaven. Now this whole thing really makes no sense.’
‘Yeah, well, wait until you see the next video. Look for where it says “Recording no. 4” and stay tuned.’
The video showed the same room where Tum and Shennan had given themselves over to passion; according to the time signature it took place barely a minute after the nanny had left.
‘Look at the right side of the screen, at the door. Watch very, very closely.’
A few yards away from where Shennan and Tum had stood was a door. It opened and Madame Mayumi stepped out. She too walked toward the Venetian mirror, looked at herself and brought her hands up to her eyes. She seemed to be crying. If earlier the mirror showed a girl in love, now it showed a grown woman totally distraught. Madame Mayumi lowered her head, hands still covering her eyes, and a few seconds later she brought them down and raised her head. The change was astonishing. She looked utterly transformed: once again she was the familiar elegant woman. Her eyes we
re still gleaming, not with tears but with resolve. She raised her finger to wipe her right eye, then walked out of the room.
‘Well, Laurent? What do you think now?’
There was a pause as he decided how to respond. ‘You want to know the truth? I think it’s really sad. I congratulate you on a job well done, but this all leaves a horrible taste in my mouth. In the first place seeing Carlos, who I was fond of and had a degree of friendship with, looking like a schoolboy head over heels for a girl who could be his daughter, and who takes care of his daughters to boot, is awful. Totally inappropriate. But it’s even more grotesque to see Tum, who I’ve always felt affection for – especially now that I know her horrifying story – charmed by that sexual piranha Shennan. And finally, the image of Madame Mayumi betrayed by her husband in their home, on the day that they inaugurated it, and furthermore with someone she had complete trust in … know what I think? That it’s a such a noxious brew of crime, adultery, humiliation and betrayal that I don’t understand how she could feign the stoicism and self-control she showed later.’
‘Wake up, Laurent! There’s something more important I don’t think you realise.’
‘What do you mean?’ He paused for a moment in thought, then gave a gasp. ‘No! Are you suggesting it was Madame Mayumi who killed Shennan? I refuse to believe it.’ Laurent was beside himself. He’d found the scene with Shennan’s wife looking at herself in the mirror unbearable.
‘Calm down and think about it: she always put up with all Shennan’s infidelities, but she told you there were things she’d never tolerate, and both you and I know that her honour and dignity were of vital importance to her. You saw her just like I did: that was the face of a woman scorned, yearning for vengeance. In fact, I’m starting to think you may be right about Tum’s disappearance.’
