The detective was convinced, however, as Goron was in the Gouffé case, of the identity of the architect, the person that planned and without doubt both orchestrated and participated in the last minutes of the victim’s life. One of his main priorities then was to find out as much as possible about the former Marie Giroudin, to provide support for this theory.
The expanse of the sparkling Mediterranean stretched towards the infinity of the horizon. It was beautiful but sometimes made him sad, in the way days at the beach are not always a joy for children. But he had plenty to distract him from the views and the attractions of Monte Carlo which held no real fascination for him. He shared with the professor and Dr Locard a love of the arts. Monte Carlo was not a place any of them would have felt comfortable in, not even in a policing role.
Inspector Garonne, a man of imposing presence, being over six feet in height and of typical Mediterranean good looks, was waiting for him at the station and they proceeded to the villa where the Goolds had stayed, to examine the crime scene. On the way the Monte Carlo chief told him that he had tracked down a number of witnesses who had made useful statements which he would provide. He had, of course, also found the implements probably used in the commission of the crime.
“You will find that the perpetrators were in such a hurry that they literally abandoned the most importance of evidence, hoping that it would not be discovered,” said Garonne. “It appears that Isobel Giroudin, the niece, knew nothing of the crime and was hoodwinked by the Goolds into believing that bloodstains were as a result of a nosebleed suffered by Mr Goold. You may examine her yourself on that matter.”
During the course of the conversation Dupin expressed his desire to establish which of the apparent accomplices had planned the awful crime and what the respective physical involvement was. The motive well might have been robbery but that, he posited, was the tip of the iceberg.
Garonne agreed. “I believe that, as far as this is concerned, the witness Madame Castellazi could be of vital importance. I will arrange for an interview on the subject with her.”
Dupin thanked him profusely but Garonne deflected his good manners. They were on the same side. The eyes of the world would be brought to bear on the crime and it was in the interests of the investigation both in the Principality and France to get everything right.
“You know, Garonne,” Dupin mused, “the sum of what we learn often refuses to add up too neatly.”
He was greeted with a large laugh. “Too true, Dupin, too true. On the other hand, the thing in plain sight is the last thing you see.”
The detectives hit the same reaction at the same time.
“Rarely is anything as it seems.”
“Touché.”
The inspectors concurred that witness evidence must be looked upon with scepticism; there were too many factors involved quite apart from self-interest and mistaken interpretation. They would approach all with as fresh eyes and objectivity as possible. And they also concurred that the examining magistrates, after the investigation was complete, would take all the glory as if they were responsible for all.
“Glory means nothing to me,” observed Dupin. “The truth means all. They are welcome to the glory, if that is all they seek.”
“It is, believe me. The lawyers love the open stage. We will get on working at the coal face!”
Dupin laughed. “We are but servants of the law, we will get on with it. After all, they will just retrace our steps.”
The Monte Carlo detective had not been idle. He had established that the victim was Emma Erika Levin from Stockholm, a brilliant hostess and owner of a magnificent set of jewels. Born in Malmo, she married Leopold Levin, a wealthy Danish company director. The couple lived in Stockholm in splendid style and entertained in their flat in the Noble Institute in North Railway Square. Her priceless rings were celebrated in the city. Her older husband died in 1905, leaving a smaller fortune than expected – he was always thought to be immensely wealthy. The widow was left an annuity by her husband’s company more than sufficient for her needs.
In May 1907 she went to Monte Carlo. Many residents of Stockholm met her during the summer there. Her mother lived in Copenhagen. Inspector Garonne stated that Madame Castellazi had been the source of this information and she knew a lot more about Marie Goold, having met an acquaintance of hers in the casino whose information she had passed on to Madame Levin. And she now felt that this information had the opposite effect to that which she had intended.
The rooms on the fourth floor of the Menesini provided plenty of objective evidence. The servants of the law got on with their business. Dupin observed the bloodstains on the carpet on the living room and on the floor and walls of the bathroom. In the box room there was bloodstained linen, a large stain on the floor and splashes on the wall. In addition, there was the saw and the knife, though that knife was clearly not the one that had produced the stab-wounds.
The doctor told Dupin that the initial attack had taken place in the living room, the body then dragged to the bathroom, dismembered, and moved to the box room before being placed in the trunk and valise. The bloodstain patterns proved that without doubt.
In a drawer in the bedroom they found letters of demand from the victim for money owed by the Goolds to her, signed by her. One on a card bearing the name of Goold read: “I await payment of money borrowed. Send it by telegraph. I need it.” The signature was somewhat illegible.
Dupin said he would need confirmation of the signature and handwriting. Garonne assured him that Madame Castellazi would provide that and much more.
The niece was then interviewed and could add little to what was already established. She was, noted Dupin, a lovely-looking young woman with a naturally delicate disposition. She had been sent out by the Goolds at the time to walk to Cap Martin and the bloodstains were explained to her by a medical problem attributed to Mr Goold, namely nosebleeds.
“Who told you of this?” enquired Dupin,
“Mrs Goold,” she answered.
That was sufficient for the detective. He would not put her under more pressure than she was already experiencing. She voluntarily offered some facts about how and when she had been engaged by the Goolds as a form of housekeeper. This young woman was totally innocent, in his view, and had been exploited by the perpetrators. He requested Garonne to somehow find her employment to save her from the worst consequences of an act that she had had nothing to do with. The Inspector assured him that this would happen.
The next stop was the Hotel Bristol where the victim had stayed during her time in Monte Carlo. It was a modest place with nothing of the so-called graces of the other habitations in this place of excess. Madame Levin’s room was small and neat. There was nothing out of place. Her dresses were in the wardrobe, all in a line to be taken out when necessary, the underwear nicely stacked in a drawer.
In another drawer there was discovered a sum of 140 dollars in cash and a number of items of jewellery.
On a bureau, a small photographic album, a record of family life. There was a wedding photograph of a young attractive woman and a rather older stooped man.
Madame Levin. What initial compromise of comfortable prospects with an old man should deserve such a fate? Dupin held the album in his hand and wondered about how simple turns of mind lead to such horrific consequences. What decisions had she made, as a relatively young widow, that had brought her to such a den of iniquity and her ultimate demise?
He felt he already knew the answer. But he needed a lot more answers to complete that puzzle to his satisfaction. Perhaps Madame Castellazi of that flamboyant name might be of assistance.
They met the said madame in the Café de Paris but Dupin was loath to interview anyone in their natural habitat. After cursory conversation, she agreed rather enthusiastically to go to Inspector Garonne’s office on the strict understanding that there would be no other witnesses to their meeting.
The woman, he reckoned, was in her late forties and had seen better days which w
as only emphasised by an over-enthusiastic application of rouge on the cheeks and clothes that might have better befitted some girl twenty years her junior. One makes judgments based on such details, thought Dupin, which can prove to be totally off the mark. He suspended such judgement until he heard what might come from the heavy lips, obscured as they might be by a deep blood-red application.
The story that she told was quite astounding. She spoke rapidly and Dupin had great difficulty in keeping up with his notes.
She was a habitué of the casino and had very rarely lost much money, being prudent about her betting as well as being somewhat dependent for her living on the winnings. She had seen people win and lose fortunes, being catapulted from great heights of euphoria to great depths of despair. She became immune to such extremes during her time in Monte Carlo. That was essential to survival in the gaming rooms of the casino, as well as possessing an ability to identify ‘chancers’ abundant in the rooms as opposed to the more naïve players affected too deeply by the seductions of chance. She became, she claimed, somewhat expert in recognising the two categories. She was not an innocent herself in these matters and not proud of some things she had done but did not wish to implicate herself in shady dealings. She wanted to help and give information of use to the investigation which would prove of no benefit to herself. Yet she wanted her past left with the indignities of memory and her own pangs of conscience.
The detectives had no problem with that but Dupin emphasised that any criminal behaviour found in her case would not be beyond the appropriate punishment. If she had useful information that would be of benefit in the case, they would be glad to hear it, but without fear or favour. Otherwise she could just walk away.
He bared his white teeth with a radiant smile; she looked into the pools of his deep brown twinkling eyes. His expression would have melted the resolve of younger and better women. Dupin was not beyond using his charm, without conceding anything.
Madame decided not to take the option of walking away. She decided to take her chances, something which for her, by her own admission, was familiar territory.
“The most important information I can give,” she said, “apart from my knowledge of the parties involved, was given to me by a person I met a week before the crime and who was at one time, some years ago, intimately involved with and a subsequent victim of Marie Goold. A pecuniary matter, I hasten to add. She is very much alive and may or may not want to confirm what I am telling you. As a result of her monetary loss, she hired a private detective to enquire into Mrs Goold’s background. It was to no avail. Mrs Goold threatened a suit for slander and defamation. My friend had no appetite for scandal and withdrew. But, as you know, we all reap what we sow and here we are. I have no doubt whatsoever that this background will be of help to your investigation, particularly in relation to the character of Marie, or as she would prefer to be known ‘Lady Goold’.”
Madame Castellazi’s comprehensive account followed.
Marie Giroudin was never a beauty. As a young woman, she was considered plain-looking with a rather nasty and aggressive manner. She did not make friends easily. But what she lacked in looks and social graces she compensated for with a clever and resourceful character. She was driven by a desire above her station to mix in fashionable circles and get rich quickly but without much effort on her part. But she had a dominating and overwhelming presence which all men are not averse to, as was proved by three marriages. All by outward signs should have been to her profit.
Her first marriage was to a young man who fell in love with her despite her obvious lack of charm. He proposed but was rejected which was interpreted by his family as an insult which they repaid in kind. This had the unfortunate result of reversing her decision and she married him but later left him as she could see no material profit forthcoming. He was miserable but took her back after a long absence. She had been in Paris and London while away and only remained at home for three months.
Then her husband died suddenly and she was off again. This time into the arms of an English army officer by the name of Captain Wilkinson. She was however very fond of the high life and spending money, which put a strain on the family finances. At one time she took off on a tour of the Continent, staying a couple of days at Nice, and when leaving relieved some trusting woman of £2,000 worth of jewellery. There was no proof of her guilt, so she got away with robbery.
Her tastes were not to her husband’s liking, among them her lack of thrift and love of the high life, but it did not matter in the end because he pre-deceased her. Whatever money he left, which was not a lot by all accounts, would not last long in her hands, but she did have a collection of jewellery to stave off the rainy day until she could target another man of means. She was pushing thirty, not very attractive in the first place and not helped by the passage of time.
But she still had a silver tongue. She was given to fantasy and name-dropping, but was persuasive to some gullible enough to be taken in. She inferred rather than baldly stated her high-society connections. She had no problem when it came to impressing people, but a good talker without work cannot produce money and Marie began to feel the want of it. So she flattered an old well-off Englishwoman to give her a position as secretary-companion.
Marie refused to accept a salary, giving the impression that she did not need the money and only wanted the companionship. The Englishwoman was naturally delighted with the arrangement but some weeks later was relieved of the considerable sum of £600 while she and her secretary had gone on a trip to San Sebastian. Her employee then informed her that she had been summoned to Paris to consult with her lawyers about some property she had been left in her husband’s will.
She in fact travelled to Marseilles, booking into the Hôtel du Louvre, the most expensive in the port, and lived the high life on the money she had stolen from the gullible old woman. But the money soon ran out and Marie was left without any liquid assets but still holding on to the jewellery. A few swindles she embarked upon came to nothing and, feeling the pressure, she moved on again – this time to London. There she could not get credit in hotels and was forced to work and eventually cash in the last assets she had.
With the proceeds she leased a small shop in the West End and began a dressmaking business. It could well have been a success but she was not inclined to hard work and began to extract money on account from wealthy clients, women whom she flattered with false promises about keeping them looking young, and who came to regard her as a friend and confidante.
What on the surface seemed to be a thriving business was anything but. One day a middle-aged client came into the shop and found the proprietor in tears. She said that the bailiffs were about to close her down and managed to extract the sum she said was owing from the sympathetic woman. She had also taken to gambling and losing and started again to look out for a man to take up some of the financial slack.
It was then that she picked out Vere Goold, an Irishman of achievement and education who had fallen foul of drink, drugs and gambling and had been sent to London by friends and relatives, anxious for him to get away from his Dublin haunts to reform in a better environment. He had been given a small allowance with the hope that he would get employment and straighten out his life.
His life had not been transformed. He frequented bars and restaurants in the West End and Soho. He was generally considered an ineffectual and well-meaning drunk who on occasion paid small fines at police stations for being drunk and disorderly. At no stage during this time did violence play any part in his antics, more redolent of an overgrown student. The only damage he was capable of doing was to himself.
And so he fell prey to Marie Giroudin, and married her – a marriage made in hell, his dissolute behaviour offset by a scheming, dominating partner determined to become a personage of importance without any effort on her part, and attain a social standing without the means to support it. And she had chosen someone of some former substance and lineage but in every sense now but a man of straw.
> Her dream was pursued over a number of years in various locations and countries that Madame Castellazi said the police would establish in time. But some incidents were instructive of all. The honeymoon took place in Paris with clothes on the bride’s back that had been obtained from wholesale sources without payment. The money ran out and bride subjected the groom to abuse about his inability to provide funds. He would wander the boulevards in despair looking for someone to borrow a few francs from.
They were turned out of several hotels and boarding houses. This set the pattern of their lives right up to and including their stay in Monte Carlo.
Then, most recently, again in Paris, Marie Goold had conned money from people she had met in a hotel. She’d also got a 24-hour approval from a jeweller’s shop on a diamond ring and instantly pawned it. Then she and Goold took a train to Monte Carlo with the proceeds of both scams.
On arrival in October they took an apartment in the Villa Menesini with their niece acting as “housekeeper” to keep up appearances. They then set about making their fortune in the casino where she and Madame Levin had the misfortune to make each other’s acquaintance.
At this point Madame Castellazi paused, hand to throat, and asked for a drink. Garonne poured her some water and then ordered coffee for all. He urged Madame Castellazi to take a small break before coming to the vital last stage of the very valuable statement she was offering to the investigating team. The coffee arrived and they drank it, exchanging only desultory remarks. When they finished Dupin gestured to the witness to continue.
“Let me tell you about the cunning manner in which Marie Goold first met my poor friend,” she said. “It was about six weeks ago, in the Café de Paris, as I remember. Emma was beautifully dressed as usual, wearing her finest jewellery, and this woman ‘bumped’ into her. And after the apology and small talk, she introduced her to her husband Sir Vere Goold. Despite being titled, they came across as humble and genuine people and Emma was impressed. It was later that we met them again in the casino and, I have to say, knowing nothing of what I have related to you as I was just recently told all that by my informant, I took an instant dislike to the so-called Lady Goold and I am certain that the feeling was mutual. My suspicion did not take long to be proved. Emma informed me that Lady Goold had asked her for a loan of forty pounds and I urged her against it. But she eventually gave in. I was disappointed but more so because it established a connection that would become embarrassing and much more.”
Murder in Monte Carlo Page 18
