The Double Alibi

by Noel Vindry

  ‘Very well, I promise you he won’t. I’ll only speak to your brother. I’ll come and see him after dinner. You can count on me.’

  ‘Don’t tell him you’ve seen me.’

  ‘Agreed. Are you so afraid of your brother, then?’

  ‘It’s not that. On the contrary, he’s always been so good to me… He brought me up after the deaths of our parents. And in the beginning we weren’t rich. He gave up everything for me. That’s why I don’t want to hurt him by refusing the marriage he desires so much. But I don’t want him to know that I’ve confided in a stranger… What will you tell him?’

  ‘I don’t know yet… But I’ll find a way, trust me. And now you must stop crying.’

  Chapter XIV

  AN ABRUPT DEPARTURE

  M. Allou joined Sallent for lunch.

  ‘What’s new?’

  ‘Nothing, Dupont. And you?’

  ‘Nothing either.’

  ‘Come on, admit it. I can see it in your face. It was her, wasn’t it? You can say so, I don’t care. I’m only asking you so I don’t go off on a wild goose chase.’

  ‘Yes, it was she… But promise never to tell anyone, Sallent!’

  ‘I promise. Apart from that, nothing interesting to report?’

  ‘No, but this afternoon we should get some news. Don’t leave the hotel.’

  ***

  The first telephone call came at three o’clock. The superintendent was informed that Le Borgne’s movements had given no cause for suspicion. He even seemed to be more energetic than before and had visited numerous clients with an unaccustomed zeal.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Sallent as he joined M. Allou again. ‘He’s trying to allay suspicion. I assume he’s up to something fishy.’

  ‘And, furthermore, his approach is excellent. Visiting a great many people is the best way to disguise seeing the two or three persons you actually need to see.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  A courier from the Palais de Justice arrived just before five o’clock.

  ‘There’s a letter for you from the examining magistrate, superintendent.’

  ‘Thank you. Give it to me.’

  As soon as the man had left, Sallent handed the envelope to M. Allou.

  ‘No, no,’ said the other. ‘Open it yourself. I’m Dupont, your subordinate. Practice treating me with no respect. It’s the prudent thing to do, and I detest respect anyway.’

  Sallent opened the envelope. It contained an official telegram from Grenoble:

  “Fumage travelling salesman. Bachelor. Works regularly. Enquiries positive. Often away, left eight days ago.”

  ‘That’s a fat lot of help,’ said the superintendent. ‘They don’t even know he’s dead!’

  ‘What did you expect? Stop complaining, your friend’s here.’

  It was indeed Proto who was coming towards them at a rapid pace. His squat, stocky body quivered as a smile revealed his enormous teeth.

  ‘Superintendent, sir,’ he exclaimed joyfully. ‘This time you’re going to be proud of me!’

  ‘Hmm,’ grunted Sallent.

  ‘I’ve successfully completed the mission you charged me with.’

  ‘Charged you with mission? Must’ve been drunk.’

  ‘I transmitted your wishes this morning,’ intervened M. Allou hastily. ‘You remember… whatever he could find about Fumage.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Perfect. Found out he was travelling salesman, did you?’

  ‘You knew already?’ said Proto with an air of disappointment. ‘But there’s more.’

  ‘Let’s hear it.’

  ‘He came here frequently to sell lace.’

  ‘Really? Lace? Fascinating.’

  ‘Let me finish. One day, in one of the cafés, he met Allevaire. They appeared to know each other, because they were friendly and talked in hushed voices. No one knows what they said, but suddenly there was a violent eruption. “I’ll do what I want,” shouted Fumage. “You’ll pay, and more dearly than you think!” replied Allevaire. There were more words, equally violent, but in a lower voice again. Then one of them finished by announcing: “I’ll settle your account once and for all. We’ll meet again.”’

  ‘That’s not bad,’ admitted Sallent, grudgingly. ‘You’re making progress. Anything else to report? His reputation?’

  ‘Excellent. He was seen as a very reputable salesman.’

  ‘And when did this dispute take place?’

  ‘They couldn’t tell me exactly, but it was about six days ago. It’s now the fourteenth, so around the seventh or eighth of May.’

  ‘Good. My compliments. You may go.’

  ‘You could have been more friendly towards him,’ laughed M. Allou after Proto had left. ‘He did a good job, the poor fellow.’

  ‘Yes… if I could be sure he was telling the truth.’

  ‘Why would he lie?’

  ‘Oh, not with malicious intent. Simply to make you believe he was working: he invents everything.’

  ‘No, Sallent, you’re not being fair. He’s lazy, certainly, but that doesn’t make him a liar. On the contrary, what he reported sounds plausible. Fumage’s “account” was indeed settled, on the night of the ninth of May. Not by Allevaire, obviously, but he was certainly aware of it, which helps my theory enormously. He counted on the murder to establish an alibi and to be reborn as someone with an excellent reputation.’

  ‘All very convenient,’ retorted Sallent, ‘but Proto could equally have made up his story to coincide with events. Fumage dies on the ninth, so he invents a dispute two days earlier.’

  ‘No, he didn’t know that Fumage had been murdered.’

  ‘You didn’t tell him?’

  ‘Of course not. He knew nothing at all about the man.’

  ‘Couldn’t he have recognised him from newspaper photographs?’

  ‘There weren’t any. I forbade it.’

  ‘Well, in that case… what Proto said must be correct.’

  ‘You seem annoyed about it, Sallent. You mustn’t be so unfair.’

  ‘You’re right. What do you want me to say? He irritates me. But he’s no worse than many others, after all. There are good cops and bad cops, just as in everything else.’

  ‘Just as in everything else,’ agreed M. Allou ruefully.

  ***

  They dined together. Sallent was morose.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m bored. Nothing’s happening.’

  ‘The fact is,’ said M. Allou, ‘that this case lacks mystery. I want a puzzle… something improbable, impossible… something which makes me rack my brains and forces me to apply my powers of logic. This one puts me to sleep.’

  ‘Me, too. I think I’ll go to bed.’

  ‘I have a visit to make first.’

  ‘To Clermon?’ asked the superintendent, with a wicked smile. ‘Again? Sometimes you question that young woman too much, and sometimes not enough.’

  ‘You’re wrong. It’s her brother I’m going to see.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About her marriage.’

  ‘Well, you must have time on your hands. Either that, or you’re going to ask her hand for yourself.’

  ‘Not yet, not yet. I wish you a pleasant night, my dear superintendent.’

  ‘I expect it to be peaceful.’

  ***

  The magistrate was immediately ushered into Clermon’s office.

  The mission was going to be delicate. M. Allou looked at his adversary, the eyes alert in his young, thin face. The man wasn’t an idiot, and prudence would be needed if he were not to suspect something.

  ‘You put forward a theory the other day,’ he began,

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the encounter between Serge Madras and the man he took to be Allevaire.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. I told you my secretary had possibly acted less courageously than he’d claimed and had not, in fact, tackled the man, but only seen him from behind as he was running away. And in that way, an error
may have occurred, but not deliberately.’

  ‘That’s it. Do you still think so?’

  ‘Yes. Why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Even after the events of last night? I saw Madras with my own eyes, pursuing the miscreant and trying to stop him, all alone. I can attest to his courage, and courageous people don’t usually boast.’

  ‘You have a point,’ agreed Clermon.

  ‘Yes, but do you see the consequence?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘You already know it,’ continued M. Allou. ‘Unless Madras was genuinely mistaken, he made a slanderous accusation. And, I have to tell you, that seems to be the general opinion.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, I thought it was my duty to tell you. You spoke to me the other day of an impending marriage.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Clermon curtly, ‘for your interest in my personal affairs. The police’s concern is very touching.’

  M. Allou fought back his anger. Under normal circumstances, he would not have tolerated being spoken to like that. But he had a mission to accomplish, and all self-respect would have to be sacrificed.

  ‘I thought it was the right thing to do,’ he replied. ‘I couldn’t have imagined you to be so indifferent about your sister’s future that you would allow her to marry a man so tainted that he will probably be arrested in the near future for giving false evidence.’

  Clermon had already risen from his chair.

  ‘My sister is quite old enough to make her own decisions,’ he declared. ‘And, because she loves the young man, I haven’t the right to oppose what she believes to be her happiness. I demand the same discretion from strangers.’

  M. Allou bit his lip. He fought with all his might to avoid hurling the word “Liar” in the man’s face. Alas, he’d made a promise and was obliged to appear credulous.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘The event will take place in prison. It will certainly be the talk of the town.’

  Clermon was about to reply when the door bell rang.

  ‘Who could it be at this hour?’ he murmured.

  Voices could be heard below:

  ‘Wait, gentlemen, whom should I announce?’

  ‘Out of the way. We don’t need anyone.’

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Without knocking, Sallent came into the room.

  M. Allou, already taken by surprise by the intrusion, was even more so when he noticed the wide silhouette of Proto behind the tall one of the superintendent. What extraordinary circumstance could have brought these two men together?

  But Proto, with his strident voice and magnificent accent, was already shouting explanations.

  ‘An event, Dupont. Le Borgne has flown the coop!’

  ‘He’s gone?’

  ‘Come along,’ said Sallent. ‘We’ll explain.’

  But his voice couldn’t be heard above the inspector’s, who continued:

  ‘He took a train at six o’clock. Luckily, a colleague of mine was following him. He only went fifty kilometres and got out at Landornerie, with my colleague still behind him. He’s a crafty one, he is. There’s no one to match him for shadowing, not even in Paris. He followed our man out into the country and saw him go into an isolated house. Then he ran to phone us and is waiting back at the hotel. I think this time we’ve got Allevaire!’

  He had been talking so exuberantly it would have been impossible to stop him.

  ‘You talk too much,’ snarled Sallent, giving him a furious look.

  ‘What time is the next train?’ asked M. Allou.

  ‘Tomorrow at seven o’clock. It’s a small local line.’

  ‘Does the Sûreté have a car?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s broken down.’

  Clermon stepped forward and said, in a quiet voice:

  ‘I can drive you there, gentlemen. I have a car that’s big enough.’

  ‘You’re too kind.’

  ‘It’s normal. A taxi would take you two hours on that bumpy road. We’ll be there in fifty minutes.’

  ‘I accept,’ said M. Allou. ‘We have to move fast.’

  ‘I only have one condition, gentlemen. Apart from driving you there, I don’t want to be involved in any way.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said the superintendent. ‘It’s not your job. It’ll be dangerous.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not that, believe me. I’m happy to help you with this arrest, which I wholeheartedly wish for. But I have my own reasons for demanding that my own role be kept absolutely quiet. Absolutely, do you hear? And that includes keeping it from the villain as well.’

  ‘I understand,’ replied M. Allou. ‘We won’t talk about it anywhere, even in your own home.’

  ‘Who are we going to bring?’ asked Sallent. ‘There are only two of us for the arrest.’

  ‘Excuse me, three,’ said Proto.

  ‘Ah, yes, I was forgetting. But if you’re too tired….’

  ‘Excuse me, superintendent, sir,’ declared the inspector loudly. ‘I’ve been assigned to the case and I’m not going to have the Paris police take it from under my nose. If there’s to be an arrest, I have the right to be involved.’

  ‘As you wish. That still only leaves—.’

  ‘Three!’ announced Proto.

  ‘Four,’ said M. Allou, ‘because we’re going to meet up with the inspector who alerted us.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Sallent. ‘And it appears he’s very good.’

  ‘And, furthermore,’ continued M. Allou, ‘it would be ridiculous to add more for the arrest of one man.’

  ‘Agreed. Let’s go.’

  ‘Follow me,’ said Clermon. ‘Let’s not make too much noise, so as not to make my sister anxious. Her room is next door. The car is in the garage and, as luck would have it, has a full tank.’

  ‘Let’s hope the tyres haven’t been slashed,’ murmured Sallent in M. Allou’s ear. ‘With that imbecile braying like an ass just now….’

  ‘In any case,’ replied M. Allou, ‘in remote places like the one we’re going to, the telephone stops working after nine o’clock, and it’s already twenty to ten. That’s already a bit of luck. So stop grousing!’

  They reached the garage. The tyres were intact and the car started right away.

  Chapter XV

  THE INCREDIBLE ADVENTURE

  They drove fast through the night with no one saying a word. They traversed several villages already asleep and finally, just before eleven o’clock, arrived in Landornerie.

  They stopped in front of the hotel Golden Sun and asked the owner if M. Léglise was there; that was the name of the inspector.

  ‘Yes, gentlemen, certainly. He awaits you in his bed.’

  ‘In his bed?’

  ‘The poor devil fell down the stairs a short while ago. He’s sprained a leg. The doctor’s examined him. It’s not serious: he’ll be up and about in a week.’

  ‘Thank you,’ growled Sallent. ‘A week… Well, at least we can talk to him.’

  They went up to his room and Léglise told them what little he knew. Etrillat had got off at the station, reached the open country, and headed in the direction of a remotely situated house.

  ‘Did he go in?’

  ‘I didn’t see. If I’d tried to follow him in the open fields, he would soon have noticed me. I preferred to call you urgently.’

  ‘That was the right thing to do.’

  ‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to come with you. You won’t have any difficulty finding the house; you can’t miss it.’

  In fact, his directions, together with a drawing, made everything perfectly clear.

  ‘We can’t afford to lose a minute,’ said Sallent. ‘It’s at least three kilometres away, if I’ve understood correctly.’

  ‘Roughly. But if you have a car, you can get to within a hundred metres with your lights out.’

  ‘As close as that?’

  ‘Yes, the house is in a depression and can’t monitor traffic coming from the right. That’s the route you have to take.’

&nb
sp; They left.

  One kilometre before their destination, Clermon extinguished the lights.

  ‘Good heavens, I hadn’t realised how dark the sky was. I think it’s about to rain… That’ll make it difficult to drive. If we go really slowly we’ll make less noise and be sure not to lose our way.’

  Besides, Léglise had been right, there was no possibility of error. They reached the crest of a hill, from which the house was clearly visible. But, as they descended, it was again hidden from view.

  ‘We should stop here,’ said Sallent. ‘I recognise the marker he described to us.’

  Clermon drove into a field and hid the car in a cluster of trees. They all got out.

  ‘Follow me,’ said Sallent. ‘Nobody make a noise. And if I have the misfortune to hear you, M. Proto….’

  ‘I’m just as careful as anyone else.’

  The little group advanced in total silence and soon arrived beneath the walls of the huge house. Just as Clermon had predicted, it started to rain, which made everything even darker.

  They worked their way slowly around the building. All the shutters were closed and there were no lights to be seen anywhere. The superintendent placed M. Allou at one corner of the house facing the rear façade, and Proto at the other corner.

  ‘I’m going to ring the door bell,’ he said in a murmur. ‘If he tries to get out through a window, arrest him. If he opens the door, I’ll take care of him.’

  ‘I’m going to distance myself,’ said Clermon. ‘As I told you, I don’t want to be involved. When you arrest him, take him on foot to the village and don’t talk about my car.’

  ‘Understood.’

  Clermon disappeared into the darkness and Sallent went to the front door, where he tugged at a cord hanging to the side. The sound of a bell resonated for a long time.

  The superintendent waited for a full minute and rang again. Inside the house nothing moved.

  ‘I’m going to have to go in, after all,’ murmured Sallent.

  He took a bunch of picklocks out of his pocket.

  Suddenly someone touched his arm and he sprang back.

  ‘It’s me,’ said M. Allou. ‘Proto’s enough to guard the rear.’

  ‘I’d prefer—.’

  ‘It’s not about your preferences. You are not going into this house alone! An ambush would be only too easy. If the fellow escapes from the rear, that’s too bad.’