by Pirate Irwin
Rochedebois shrugged his shoulders and shook his head at Lafarge’s remark.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about Gaston. I think you really have been affected badly by your days working under Bousquet and his mob. His methods, the ones you claim to have abhorred, appear to have been ingrained in your system,” said Rochedebois with a sneer.
“You bring a man here, who abandoned us after my father was executed and allow him to utter total calumnies implying my mother is some she devil. It beggars belief. You better be careful the pair of you, I will get Boussacs’ lawyers to take both of you to court for slander,” he added looking unbearably smug.
Lafarge raised his hands and ran a finger across his mouth telling Rochedebois he should shut up.
“We are not going to wilt in the face of such threats Lucien. In any case they are as threatening as a feather duster with the evidence that I have now,” said Lafarge.
Rochedebois puffed out his cheeks and stared away from them towards the mirror that hung over the mantelpiece.
Lafarge briefly switched his attention away from Rochedebois and asked Antoinette, who had been ignored since de Granville had started talking, if she required anything like a sedative or a headache pill as she looked very pale and she appeared to be close to a breakdown.
However, she shook her head and kept her head down staring blankly at the carpet.
De Granville was clearly uncomfortable, as he bloody well ought to be Lafarge thought, and again swallowed deeply before licking his lips nervously and cleared his throat.
“So as things appear to be becoming rather tense I will get to the point,” said de Granville with masterly understatement.
“I have lived a great lie all these past nearly 30 years. I have allowed my cowardice to prevail in never telling the truth about the circumstances surrounding the appeal of my son for his life to be spared.
“I guess in one way Antoinette your departure with Lucien lessened the need for me to bare my soul. However, had I known why you had left and what your goal was then I would certainly have spoken up earlier.
“Sadly that is not the case and so only now when so much other blood has been unnecessarily spilt has it become imperative I do speak out.
“My son’s failure in his appeal against his sentence had nothing to do with Colonel Lafarge.
“It was I who wrote the letter damning him to his death. It was I who dismissed Colonel Lafarge’s appeal to change my mind and save my son. And I guess it is I who set you and ultimately Lucien on this course of events which will lead to its tragic conclusion,” he added, though he was barely audible as his throat seemed to be closing in on itself.
His words appeared to take a couple of minutes to be absorbed by Antoinette and Rochedebois, although Lafarge was more focused on his step-brother as his step-mother seemed completely lost in her own thoughts.
Rochdebois as always looked to his mother for reassurance, even now when she was clearly incapable of even helping herself, and then his mouth dropped open in that expression of total surprise Lafarge had noticed a few nights before.
He rubbed his chin frantically, ran his other hand through his hair several times and beads of sweat began to spring up on his forehead despite the chill in the room. His eyes darted from Lafarge to de Granville and then to his mother, and finally towards the door even though the Chief Inspector was blocking the way.
“You’ve got nowhere to go Lucien, except where I’m taking you,” said Lafarge coldly.
“If you’re thinking of barging me out of the way and making a break, you better think that one over.
“There are men stationed outside the door so the window is your only option, and being three floors up I wouldn’t say that even someone who escaped from a Soviet Army hospital would manage to survive that fall,” he added laughing harshly.
Rochedebois scowled and rubbed his nose several times.
“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. Berlin, Soviet Army hospital and escaping from it?” he snarled.
“You really should cut back on the cognac, or improve on the quality because it has eaten into your brain.”
Lafarge smiled.
“Dear oh dear Lucien you have slipped up! Nobody in this room mentioned Berlin!
“We knew anyway as we have been apprised of your heroic efforts in saving your comrade-in-arms twice … earned you an Iron Cross too, not many people can claim such an honour,” he said.
Rochedebois opened his mouth to reply but then closed it, although Lafarge could sense he wasn’t a broken man yet, and based on what Vandamme had testified to he would not cede easily.
He had certainly been wrong-footed and the sight of his broken mother, whom he adored, would not have helped his morale but like it or not someone who had survived the Soviet onslaught and the destruction of Berlin merited not being underestimated.
However, a comfortable drawing-room in a chic neighbourhood of Paris -- somewhere where the suspect felt at ease – was not going to be their venue for verbal combat, but a cold room back at the Quai. Lafarge fancied his chances there and if he was honest with himself the evidence, circumstantial that some of it was, stacked up against Lucien.
Lafarge officially charged him and also Antoinette, who seemed indifferent to the whole proceeding, with murder, conspiracy to murder and attempted murder. He then turned to open the door so the gendarmes could enter and clamp the handcuffs on the prisoners.
However, he had to spin round speedily as he heard Antoinette screech like a banshee and to his horror she had launched herself from the sofa and set about de Granville.
She was scratching and biting at him, the old man didn’t seem to be doing much to fend her off whether through shock or wanting to be punished at last for his sin. Lafarge didn’t know or much care all he wanted to do was to stop her assault.
Rochedebois tried to block his way but he hurled him to the side and told two of the gendarmes to restrain him and clap the handcuffs on him. He grabbed Antoinette by her shoulders but she wriggled free, she was lithe for her age more than he gave her credit for, and returned to the attack.
Lafarge went for her legs this time and swung them sideways which put her off balance, although she aimed a kick at his head and landed a glancing blow. However, he was not to be deterred and in a most ungentlemanly fashion he had to resort to slapping her round the face. She recoiled, a look of total madness on her face, and slumped back on the floor.
She looked a complete mess. Her well-coiffed straight hair that had curled under her chin was now a mess of straggly strands, her tights were torn and her dress had a rip across the hemline exposing one of her breasts.
She looked, though, considerably better than de Granville, who for one awful moment Lafarge thought was dead.
But a slap on the cheeks, gentler than the ones he’d addressed to Antoinette, woke him. However, Lafarge told the shocked maid to ring for the doctor, who would ultimately decide whether a lotion he could administer to his badly-cut face would be sufficient or if he needed to visit a hospital to have stitches inserted.
He was understandably badly-shaken so Lafarge and another gendarme laid him out on the sofa and fed him some cognac. Once he was assured the old man wouldn’t succumb he ordered the two prisoners down to the waiting police van.
“What about the funeral?” asked Rochedebois.
Lafarge could scarcely believe his ears.
“Go to all your victims’ funerals then do you Lucien? Just to check they really are dead?” he said coldly.
Lafarge had had enough of the two of them. Now that they were in his custody he was able to unleash his emotions which had been bottled up inside him and the betrayal he felt by both of them went beyond anything he had ever experienced before. He would restrain himself in the interrogation room but here ‘at home’ he felt he was entitled to let go.
“Don’t be such an idiot Lucien. I cancelled the funeral this morning once I knew your grandfather was going to com
e here.
“I’m hardly going to allow you and your bitch of a mother to attend my father’s funeral! Murderous duo gloating at the graveside whilst thinking they had got away with it and fooled the investigator, who only happens to be the victims’ son.
“No Lucien the only funeral you will be attending is your mother’s if she is guillotined before you. I would go with the principle of lady’s first so there is a good chance you will be able to.
“You will be heavily guarded of course. You may be able to throw a bit of dirt in after your witch has been lowered into her grave. Trouble is like I told Bousquet, I don’t know anyone who will do the same for you as you will be accompanying your comrade-in-arms to the guillotine.
“Funny isn’t it, although I don’t think you’ll see the humour in it, but you dressed for a funeral this morning and in fact it wasn’t for the person you thought you would be saying farewell to but it is your own,” added Lafarge.
Rochedebois chewed on his lip, then ran his tongue round them as he had done when he was nervous during Lafarge’s visit the other night and screwed up his eyes as if the light was hurting them.
“Enjoy your moment of glory Gaston, but it is going to be very brief,” said Rochedebois.
“You haven’t got a shred of evidence to connect me with the murders.
“Furthermore when you go home at night I want you to think of what could possibly be worse than your son murdering your fiancée? Because let us just say I have the answer,” he said with such venom even the hard bitten gendarme, who was trying to push Rochedebois to the door, looked shocked.
Lafarge shrugged and shoved him out the door, the gendarme helping by hitting Rochedebois behind his legs with his truncheon.
He waited until they had finally been put in the lift before pouring a large cognac, lit one of his father’s favourite cigars and waited by de Granville’s side for the doctor to come.
“Here’s to you father,” he said raising his glass and then the tears flowed freely at last.
He felt a hand slip over his and looking blearily through the tears he saw it was de Granville’s. He took his hand and they sat there hand in hand, at least for that moment at peace with the world and united in grief.
***
“I know it sounds weak Gaston but I am really sorry,” said Rochedebois.
Lafarge grimaced and sat back in Vaillant’s chair staring at Rochedebois.
The Chief Inspector had skipped, with Pinault’s permission, the interrogations of Antoinette and his stepbrother. Quite aside from them being a formality he couldn’t guarantee this time he would keep his emotions in check. Instead he had returned home and taken Aimee out for dinner and thence to a jazz club.
They had drunk far too much and it had ended with both of the emotionally damaged duo tumbling into bed again, rekindling their old affair. The morning had brought no regrets for either of them, both felt better to have someone in their lives but it only remained for Lafarge to inform his son which given his reaction to Berenice was not a task he was looking forward to.
He had gathered from Pinault, Rochedebois’s confidence had evaporated once confronted by Vandamme, who had finally given them his real name Francois Barazer de Lannurien. Only the French mused Lafarge could drum up such a legal piece de theatre as the two accused confronting each other.
Antoinette, who had hidden their tracks so effectively by taking the maiden name of her mother who had indeed died of the Spanish flu, had been under heavy sedation but once she had recovered her mental faculties she had not tried to excuse herself and confessed, and showing little maternal instinct had not spared Rochedebois.
He for his part tried to claim that he would not have committed the murders, had he been aware of the true facts behind his father’s execution.
However, he had accumulated quite a tally of victims. He confessed to those of Philipperon, Neveu, Morand – it turned out he had been in the same regiment and had the opportunity which he seized to shoot him in the back -- and of course Colonel Lafarge as well as Fayette.
However, despite some sympathy for the pair from the court with regard to the false premise that provoked them into their vengeful journey they could not be excused from the ultimate penalty.
De Granville, who had willingly agreed to come to the flat and confirm Lafarge’s suspicions, had made a full recovery and testified at the trial.
He had earned Lafarge’s grudging admiration for doing so as he had been widely excoriated in the press and by his friends for his callous disregard of his son’s life and his remaining years threatened to be a lonely existence for him.
The creaking French judicial system had moved up a gear and Antoinette and Lucien were tried and convicted within a matter of days – the Justice Minister had allowed it to proceed rapidly as a favour owed to Lafarge from his successful conclusion of a case the year before that had threatened de Gaulle’s life.
Pinault had called in the favour on his behalf and the only condition – for as Lafarge had become wearily accustomed politically charged cases always came with caveats – was that Rochedebois’ war record would not be raised.
Lafarge mused that it was Frenay’s hand behind this, but Pinault chided him for being too paranoid about plots in the higher reaches of government. Pinault’s remark didn’t quell the feeling of unease Lafarge had as to whether Rochedebois would be guillotined or granted a last minute reprieve.
He had decided for his own peace of mind to go to Fresnes on the eve of Rochedebois’ execution. Vaillant had been surprised at his turning up but on being asked he courteously vacated his office and left him on his own whilst he got one of the guards to fetch Rochedebois.
However, before he left he asked Lafarge to hand him his service revolver, saying rather sheepishly he would rather have a live prisoner to guillotine the next day and didn’t wish for the Chief Inspector to do something he would regret. He added Rochedebois was in the mood to provoke him, ever since he had learnt his appeal to be shot and not guillotined had failed he had let the mask of bonhomie slip and had not ceased to cause offence or try and provoke the guards into resorting to physical violence to subdue him.
“He can’t bring himself to summon up the courage to commit suicide himself, so he wants someone else to do it for him,” said Vaillant.
“Now you see why we insist on the leg irons,” added Vaillant with a thin smile.
Lafarge felt suitably chastened by his remark, having what felt like a lifetime ago now and ironically with Rochedebois accompanying him queried the humanity of imposing such a primitive object on condemned men.
Aside from the leg irons Rochedebois cut a very different figure to the dissolute and foppish one Lafarge had enjoyed so much. His hair was long and lank, he had not been shaved for a few days, Vaillant had said there’d been an incident with the guard assigned to do the shaving.
There was still, though, an air of defiance Lafarge could see in him. That put him on his guard and as for whether his apology was genuine he couldn’t care less. He didn’t feel anything for him or Antoinette now.
His emotions had travelled on quite a journey from astonishment to deep-seated anger to incomprehension and finally this numbness. He didn’t wish to feel hate, that he reserved for men such as Bousquet and Laval.
Antoinette and Rochedebois were a rather sad and pathetic duo, beneath contempt really, and he had no qualms about them being guillotined. He believed he would have felt the same way even if it hadn’t involved the murder of his father. Antoinette barely realised what awaited her, she had had what the French called a ‘malaise’ and her nerves had failed her.
Was it genuine? Lafarge thought it probably was, but he was sure it wasn’t because of guilt over the death of his father. It was a culmination of events which had started nearly 30 years ago when the foolishness and callousness of an ambitious general had provoked this.
Nivelle may have thought of the thousands of soldiers under his command as being expendable and as inconsequ
ential as ants but the results of his insensitivity had provoked ripples that had caused a lot of collateral damage. Antoinette and Rochedebois could fit into that category too.
Lafarge sipped at his glass of cognac, Vaillant having told him there was a bottle in the drinks cabinet, and mulled over whether to offer one to Rochedebois. He decided against it as Vaillant might not be best pleased, so he offered him a cigarette instead.
Lafarge, though, remained silent. He had time enough to talk, Rochedebois had always been the more talkative in any case and his time was running out.
“If I’d known the real facts I would never have murdered anyone. I wish my mother hadn’t stoked me up so much, and as for my grandfather well he’s the guilty one isn’t he?” said Rochedebois waving his cigarette round wildly in the air.
Lafarge sighed. He wasn’t one for self-pity and he’d seen it often enough from murderers and other criminals but he was disappointed that Rochedebois was following in their footsteps. He had expected even after all that had happened something a bit different from the man who had always been such a showman and he thought courageous.
“Listen Lucien I haven’t come here to listen to your excuses. I’m not the judge so you’re wasting your time and as he didn’t find your argument convincing I’m hardly going to disagree with him,” said Lafarge curtly.
“Besides as if you can’t forget I was the detective on the case so I think I’m au fait with the facts. Frankly I don’t find any extenuating circumstances. There are plenty of people who have been wronged in the past and they haven’t resorted to violence to rectify it.
“And to do it to your own family is beyond belief. So forgive me if I don’t join in your hand wringing about your bad luck and that you shouldn’t be facing the executioner.
“What you did you have to pay for, as does your mother and so does Barazer de Lannurien.”
Rochdebois grinned.
“Oh Gaston you think that the deal is done. You are here to what gloat over your murderous stepbrother’s soon to be corpse! Well dear fellow I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Rochedebois his voice sounding like the old confident Lucien.
