by Agnès Ruiz
She explained that the forensic doctor had been formal; Gloria Ritchard had never given birth to any child.
“Preliminary analyses show a relationship with the couple’s wife. Can you clarify that, Mr. Voily?”
“Guillermo, that will be perfect. Indeed, there is a link. The woman who died in the robbery was a sister to your victim, Gloria Ritchard.”
“A small family business, somehow.”
This was, however, not the time for jokes.
Chapter 27
Annabelle reluctantly released the poker she still held in her hand. She had just realized at the moment of shooting her improvised weapon that it was Grégoire who was returning home. She would have undoubtedly killed her friend. He was already pretty weak. He collapsed as soon as he entered the hall.
“Grégoire!” The young woman shouted, totally awake now.
“Move,” he said with difficulty, raising his chest painfully to see her.
“What are you talking about?” she said angrily.
“You’re ... in danger,” he continued.
He collapsed again on the floor. His forehead banged violently and emitted a dull sound. Annabelle remained for a few seconds dumbfounded, and then she lit the ceiling light. She discovered the scope of the damage to her friend. Blood! It was everywhere. She should have kept the lights on the street. Less scary. Immediately, she made the worst reproaches as these thoughts sneaked into her mind.
She had to notify the police. She looked for her cell phone. Her hands trembled as she pulled it out of her purse.
“Drop it right away or I’ll blow your head out.”
Annabelle turned towards the voice. Horror, the phone fell from her hand. Annabelle watched the screen break. She stepped back and thought of her stratagem of broken pieces of glass at the bottom of the stairs. It was useless. She had thought that the threat would come from Grégoire’s mother. Why had she not shown such foresight upon entering?
Grégoire was still lying on the floor. He did not move. She wondered if he was dead. Too much death in her life in such a short time! The newcomer stepped over Grégoire’s body and came forward, pointing his gun at Annabelle. Annabelle stared at his tie, his outfit “too clean on him”. This was incongruous; the weapon, his rough face, with a thin almost jubilant smile.
“We’ll talk a little, you and I. You can say that you cause me a lot of trouble.”
He spoke French with a strong English accent.
“I did not do anything. I do not understand...”
“Really?”
“My parents are dead, it is not enough, perhaps?” Annabelle shouted at the height of hysteria.
She looked at the poker so close to Grégoire’s body, and so far from her. What could she do to get out of this sordid scene?
Chapter 28
At the station, Rachel Toury introduced the Interpol officer to her team. She also announced the relationship between the victim and Annabelle.
“Annabelle and our victim, Gloria Ritchard were niece and aunt finally. Her biological mother was Gloria’s sister. She died in London 25 years ago; in a jewelry robbery.”
She gave the details and Guillermo Voily added some in turn.
“Well, I can see that I have no more role to play, you form a beautiful duo...”
“Do not leave, Jeff. I’ve just been briefed, like you are now. It’s an order from the chief.”
“This is the first time Interpol has come to probe into what we do,” Jean-François Millet grumbled, still discontented.
“What do we do now? Grégoire Caron is still missing.”
“I thought there might be a mistake with Annabelle. Because of a mistake in the press. I messed up. If this Falcon Spencer was in the band of jewelry thieves, he knew the dead couple’s child happened to be a girl and not a boy...”
“He did not do it alone,” Jeff said. “They were two, those who tortured and killed Sean and Gloria Ritchard.”
The detective analyzed her colleague’s words, letting the contingencies wander and then made a comment aloud:
“You think he would have recruited a guy here in Montreal? And this guy could have made such a mistake?”
“And why don’t you think it could have been Jonathan Barbet?” Jeff suggested.
Rachel shook her head sharply.
“He could not have been mistaken; unless he wanted Annabelle to tell him something ... Like where the rest of the booty is, for example.”
“Who is Jonathan Barbet?” the Interpol officer inquired, joining them without any other formality.
Jeff glared at him coldly. Rachel did not bother to justify her behavior. Everything in will be done in due time.
“Annabelle’s boyfriend.”
Guillermo Voily nodded, more by reflex. He reflected while looking at a photograph of the couple.
Rachel called Annabelle. She fell on her cell phone. After a glance at Jeff and Guillermo, she left a message to make sure she was fine, also to know if she had heard from her neighbor.
“She may be in the act,” Jeff suggested when she hung up. What if she had discovered everything?
“Why do you say that?”
“She lied to us on many points, he argued. Her studies, her adventure with Grégoire... Then her boyfriend, he’s quite strange. Looks like he clings to her because she has money...”
The phone rang on Rachel’s desk. She picked it up. She just asked for some explanation and then noted a piece of information on a notepad.
“The gray pick-up has been reported in the Rambouillets’ district. Let’s go. Provide reinforcement, but not any siren outside.”
“And me?” Guillermo Voily asked.
“I suppose you have not come all the way to stay there.”
The Interpol officer smiled and followed the police.
Chapter 29
In her haste to pick up your phone, Annabelle had toppled the contents of her purse, including her mother’s necklace.
“That becomes more reasonable,” the aggressor said. “Pick it up and give it to me!”
“No, please... It’s not worth anything. It’s a keepsake. It was my mother’s.
“Your aunt!” the stranger hammered. “Gloria was your aunt. I knew her well. Finally, I knew the two sisters, he said. Then you too. You used to wear short hair. You see, I thought you were a boy. I know I paid little attention to you at the time.”
He glanced vaguely at the human mass on the floor. A sardonic smile slipped on his thin lips and flew away so quickly. Annabelle did not know who to listen to. Her instinct urged her to her friend on the floor. Was she to listen to this strange man who had unexpected and utterly grotesque remarks; or ... nothing at all? She rolled back and her gesture received the wrath of the man with the pistol. He waved it more violently.
“Pick it up, I said and give me the necklace.”
“He needs help,” Annabelle argued awkwardly.
The man did not care about Grégoire.
“He’s just a dead mass. He made me waste so much time like that. I’m not interested. As for you, it’s another story. Where are the other jewels? In the coffer, there was only money and papers. I took my share, but I feel entitled to interest all these years.”
“I repeat, you’re mistaken. My parents do not...”
“Thieves like me. We were a gang. We organized our shots with care. Until this last turn... Everything entered a spin from there. Gloria was seething with Sean. He was reliable, she claimed...”
“Stop! I do not want to know... It’s impossible, all that.”
Annabelle had put her hands on her ears. She closed her eyes in an illusory attempt to escape the play, the scene. Everything.
“You know what happened to Gloria and Sean. You really want to end the same way? You’re going to talk, trust me. Even sing.”
A noise turned her attention away from the stairs. Someone was walking on crushed glass.
“Who are you? Do not move! “he threatened, changing his position to di
splay his weapon to the newcomer.”
Jean-François Millet had a hand on the ramp. He raised the other arm at the first warning.
“I’m a friend of Grégoire’s. He lodges me upstairs; waiting for a better pass,” the policeman lied. “I heard a noise, so, I went downstairs...”
The situation showed through in the English. It was clear that he had to improvise. Still, he whispered inwardly.
“Come and sit next to the girl. And do not move at all, else I’ll shoot.”
Jeff obeyed with a slowness that annoyed the robber. Keeping an eye out for both of them, he took his phone with his left hand and contacted his henchman. Then he swore when he received no answer.
At the same moment, footsteps were heard. He turned round.
“Who is it...”
He discovered his sidekick. The individual had both arms behind his back, with his head low.
“I advise you to lower your weapon,” Detective Toury said coolly.
She held the accomplice with a firm hand while threatening the robber with her service glock.
Instead of obeying, a grin on his face opposite confirmed that he was going to fire. Rachel pushed away the accomplice as two shots went off.
The detective had not fired, anymore than Jean-François Millet who was in charge of protecting Annabelle. The first shot came from the robber. He had nothing to lose, obviously, if not life. He had tried everything for the whole and shot at the police officer, or his accomplice. The second shot came from the stairs, from where Investigator Millet had come up earlier.
“Now, it’s all over. You’re both going back to prison. And no chance to regain your freedom,” Guillermo Voily announced going down to the bottom of the stairs.
Jeff picked up the gun and locked it away in a plastic bag.
Chapter 30
It took a few days to clarify the final elements of this double murder case in the attractive districts. This was also time for Falcon Spencer to be treated for the bullet received. He was under close surveillance while his companion waited behind the bars. Guillermo Voily showed photographs of the stolen jewelry. Annabelle remained helpless, recognizing without a shadow of a doubt her mother’s necklace.
“I always thought they had something fishy... Too beautiful to...”
She had stopped, without explanation or justification.
The Interpol officer also presented press clippings to her relating the jewelry burglaries and the gang that had raged for several years, long before her birth. He mentioned the last robbery, where death had traced its course for the first time; the guard who was shot dead leaving behind a widow and three young children.
Annabelle Rambouillet, who was in the throes of dismay, had recognized her mother despite her youth on the photo. Guillermo Voily corrected her.
“It’s your aunt, Gloria Ritchard.”
“Ritchard,” Annabelle replied softly.
“Here’s your mother, Ginger and your father Malcolm Stood.
He was particularly attentive to Annabelle’s reaction. Very perspicacious and psychological, Rachel at the scene noted. Annabelle put one hand to her mouth. To see this couple that was foreign to her was unbearable.
“There’s no doubt about that, isn’t it,” she mumbled, with a scratched voice.
Tears flowed from her eyes. The denial, this disappeared in proportion to the evidences brought to light. Then Annabelle made a parallelism on her alleged law studies, her fake lawyer certificate which she had presented to her parents. Why many false pretenses at home, in her family? Did she feel a truth since childhood without knowing where the problem was?
“That’s something you will have to understand for yourself, or with a professional, Mademoiselle Rambouillet,” Detective Toury said.
“You mean a shrink?” Annabelle argued, raising her head quickly.
“They may be more useful than you seem to believe, Annabelle.”
“Maybe... But I feel totally lost. To the point where my name is wrong. You do not realize, I think. I’m not even a Canadian. I have no legitimacy in this country. What else will I discover? Can you tell me?”
“Our service will be able to support you as much as possible, like Guillermo Voily, the Interpol officer who came expressly from England.”
“I do not want to have anything to do with you anymore... or you,” she said still confronting the police officers in front of her.
“I understand, Annabelle. You have gone through situations more than most people. But you’ll be fine. ”
“I returned the necklace, my mother’s jewelry box with its real stones. What a mess! I feel dispossessed... All my existence is based on lies. My boyfriend hit me and went back to Toronto.”
There she wept. Rachel came closer and embraced her. She thought the young woman was going to reject her. On the contrary, she slipped her face into her neck and shed tears even longer while hugging the police officer.
The moment lasted the time necessary for her to recover. The detective did not accelerate the pace. She no longer had any constraint. Her investigation was closed. All that remained was to finalize her report, sign and submit it to her superior. She would accompany Guillermo Voily to the airport. They had become friends and promised to keep in touch with their respective lives and careers.
Annabelle blew her nose and got a handkerchief from her purse. She cringed suddenly and then threw it on the table in a gesture of humor.
“Why, Annabelle?” the detective asked, uncertain under this sudden rejection.
“This purse is not mine. It was in the attic, with my parents... well, you see what I mean.”
Was she talking about her parents or the purse? Rachel was not sure. Guillermo Voiy did not react anymore. Both preferred to wait. Annabelle drank a glass of water that had been brought to her. Then another.
“I thought it was pretty. Vintage. There were two. I’ll bring you the other. In this one... there were documents. I think I did not want to know. To understand. Whereas it was there right before my eyes...”
Annabelle’s statements seemed more and more disjointed. Silence strangely imprisoned them in the detective’s office. So Rachel Toury decided to take the bag. She looked at Annabelle, as if waiting for some signal. She did not get any reaction. She grew bolder and opened it. She took out a wallet. When she opened it, the documents were in the name of Annabelle Rambouillet.
“Is it your very fictitious identity that you are rejecting?” Rachel asked.
“If it were that simple. I’ll take it back, if you will. I’ll have to take steps to become what I really need to be... Or rather who I should be. Well, I don’t know, something like that.”
She held out her hand and retrieved her wallet. Detective Toury returned to fishing in the bag. There was a second wallet; more worn-out and old. A fold came across her forehead. The ID card bore the name Micheline Lemercier. That name was telling her something.
She put down the wallet and searched on her desk. Annabelle watched her without making a sound. Her phone rang and she chose not to answer.
Rachel found the information she was looking for. It was in the neighbor’s murder case, the private detective Vincent Caron’s murder, Grégoire’s father’s murder, at his home, 22 years earlier. Micheline Lemercier was his secretary or his assistant.
“You also wonder why this purse was in the attic of my parents’ house, don’t you?”
“That’s quite disturbing indeed. I’ll have to contact my colleague handling this case.”
Annabelle shook her head at length, with her face full of pain.
“Any other secrets left?! It will never end!”
“We will have answers above all. Think of your friend Grégoire. How is he, by the way?”
“He’s still in the hospital. He will then have rehabilitation. He will limp all his life. They did not spare him. These guys are barbarians. I cannot believe my parents could have done such things.... No, I do not want to go back to that. I have to move on. You do not belie
ve?”
“For sure. But you cannot just forget and move on. You have to rebuild yourself.”
“I could never. Never.”
“I’m sure you could. You’re young, brilliant. You have a faithful friend in the person of Grégoire Caron.”
Annabelle quickly gulped down the glass of water, and then confronted Detective Toury.
“And what will Grégoire say; precisely when he discovers that my parents killed his father?”
“Why do you say that?”
“That bag, in my parents’ attic!” Annabelle hammered.
“That’s why you did not talk to us earlier about these documents found in the attic?”
She hesitated for a moment, floated, and then shrugged her shoulder as usual.
“No. I took the bag quickly on coming here. I just forced my quickly made papers inside. My old bag, I threw it away. It reminded me of the aggression in my home. Where Grégoire had been abducted.”
The detective thought that it did not matter where the truth was in this case. The result was there. Perhaps there would be an answer to this other investigation of the past? She methodically searched the purse. There were papers and letters; a sealed envelope. His senses were immediately on the alert.
“Can I keep all that?”
Annabelle looked up, observed the handbag that the detective was holding, and the objects lying on the table. She picked up a little makeup kit.
“I have to sign something, a discharge form, for that?”
The detective took her back to her car.
“Is it really over?” The young woman asked.
There was fear in her voice. Uncertainty. No trace of relief.
“Here’s my card, if you want to talk.”
“Thank you. I also have that of the psychologist, Péguy...”
“Yes, Peggy Fitzgerald. You could not see each other in the hospital. Too bad. She’s a good person. I’m sure she’ll be able to help you.
“I’m going to sell everything. Get rid of everything.”
