by Allan Massie
telephone rang and it was his old journalist friend Jacques Maso asking if he could come to the Rugby Bar for a drink and a sandwich.
‘Why not? It’ll be a pleasure.’
Jacques was already there, sitting in his usual corner, under the old photograph of the last Stade Bordelais team to have won the French championship, back in 1911.
‘Time we won it again,’ Jacques said. ‘We’ve a good side this year, though, despite everything. You should come with me to a match.’
‘To tell you the truth I’d almost forgotten the game was still being played.’
‘We have to keep something of normality going,’ Jacques said. ‘I was at the club last week and they were asking about Alain. They think well of him, you know, have high hopes for him. Hope he will be back playing again soon, next season perhaps.’
‘If only! Kind of them, however,’ Lannes said. ‘What did you reply?’
‘I was cagey, evasive. What are you drinking?’
‘Same as you, beer.’
‘And to eat?’
‘I don’t know. A cheese sandwich perhaps.’
Jacques called to the waiter, then said, ‘So, Jean, how goes it?’
‘How do you think?’
‘Yes, stupid question. How’s Marguerite?’
‘So-so. Hating the war.’
‘Which isn’t a war.’
‘Isn’t it? You should pay us a visit. She’d like to see you. She remembers the dancing.’
‘Ah yes, the dancing. Long time ago. Another world.’
The waiter brought them two demis and a couple of baguettes, with cheese for Lannes, ham for Jacques.
‘So?’ Lannes said. ‘Are we just catching up?’
‘What else should we be doing?’
‘I don’t know. You called me.’
‘So I did.’
Jacques bit into his sandwich.
‘I think this pig died of old age,’ he said.
‘As an old Jewish friend of mine might say, it should be so lucky.’
‘You still have Jewish friends, Jean?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘I don’t speak about them.’
‘Wise man. Prudent.’
Jacques spread his hands.
‘Careful anyway, which is more than you seem to be, which is why I called you. I’d a visit yesterday from a chap asking questions about you. I think he was a spook.’
‘Brilliantined hair and smoking Celtiques through a holder?’
‘You know him then?’
‘For my sins. Yes, he’s a spook but also a bit of what they call a loose cannon. What did he want?’
Jacques pushed his sandwich aside, pulled out his pipe and began to fill it.
‘If I knew anything to your discredit.’
‘And what did you reply?’
‘I said, of course I do, he’s one of my oldest friends.’
‘Good answer.’
Jacques drew on his pipe and puffed out smoke.
‘Seriously though,’ he said, ‘I got the impression he doesn’t like you.’
‘I interfered in a couple of his little games,’ Lannes said. ‘He’s an idiot in my opinion. Go on, please.’
‘First, he asked me if you were queer. That seemed a bit odd.’
‘These games I spoke of, he was trying to use a couple of boys to compromise German officers. You can’t be surprised I think he’s an idiot. A nasty one, certainly, because he didn’t care a damn about what might happen to the boys. What did you say?’
‘Resisting the temptation to say you used to go to parties in drag, I told him to fuck off. Then he asked me about Alain.’
‘And?’
‘I repeated my suggestion. But I’m worried. He’s out to get you, Jean, and now that you’ve told me how you interfered with what he would call his work, I’m more worried still. I think you should watch your back.’
‘Never easy to do that,’ Lannes said. ‘But thanks for the warning.’
XXXVII
Peniel looked shabbier than ever and in only a few weeks his face had acquired the grey look that prisoners have as a result of poor food, poor air, idleness and boredom. He shifted on the wooden chair as if there was no flesh on his buttocks.
‘I don’t know why I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you anything I know, not that it was much, and I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s persecution.’
‘You may be right,’ Lannes said, ‘but it doesn’t matter. There are lots worse off than you and with less cause.’
He lit a cigarette and went to the cupboard to pour out an Armagnac.
‘You don’t drink alcohol, do you? Would you like a glass of water?’
‘I don’t want anything, except to be out of here.’
‘Well, it’s possible we might arrange that, depends on your answers to my questions. First, the chap who told you to telephone me, Félix I know him as, and gave you that envelope to hand over. How did he come to know of what your daughter was ready to supply?’
‘How should I know? He just did.’
‘That’s not very helpful, Ephraim.’
‘Édouard. My name’s Édouard.’
‘As you like. It’s no concern of mine that you’re Jewish. Others of course think differently. The advocate Labiche, for example. You know he’s a member of that absurd commission set up to deal with – eradicate? – the Jewish Question. And yet he was an old client of your daughter’s. I find that interesting, don’t you? Did he know she was Jewish?’
‘I don’t know what you’re getting at.’
‘Don’t you? Pity.’
He got up and crossed over to the window. The light was already beginning to fade and the square was deserted. The room was cold. Shortage of coal made it impossible to keep his stove going for more than a couple of hours in the day. He turned round to look at Peniel.
‘Vice aren’t much interested in you,’ he said, ‘Gabrielle being dead. On the other hand they’re happy to hold you as long as I want them to. So it’s up to you. You can either answer my questions or go back to your cell. Understand?’
‘Why should I trust you?’
‘You’ll be no worse off if you do. Did the advocate know Gabrielle was Jewish?’
‘He didn’t care. She supplied what he wanted. That was all he cared about. Before the war, anyway. Little girls.’
‘Can you supply me with a list? Of the girls and the clients?’
‘What has this to do with Gabrielle’s murder?’
‘That’s my business. The list?’
‘I could. I suppose I could.’
‘Do that.’
‘I’d have to think about it. Names, I mean. It couldn’t be complete. I knew only some of them and then not always by their real name or family name. It was better that way, you understand?’
‘And Félix. How did you meet him?’
Peniel passed his tongue over his lips which were dry and cracked.
‘He approached me, said I’d been recommended. I don’t know who by. I didn’t ask. It was no business of mine. Said he would pay well, and he did. I needed the money. You don’t know, superintendent, what it’s like, being poor, without an income. So, there it was. Besides he’d learnt I was Jewish. And he said it was for France. He’d look after me, he said, if there was any trouble. Fine job he’s made of that.’
‘I see. Tell me about Dr Duvallier.’
‘That bastard.’
‘Was he one of your daughter’s clients too?’
‘Duvallier? I don’t know. He may have been. Once. But I don’t know. That would have been when we weren’t speaking. Before the war, well before it.’
‘Why do you call him a bastard then?’
‘Because, because, if you must know, I have reason to resent him. You remember when I was in trouble before, when I was a doctor, doing well, and then struck off the medical register – you remember that, superintendent? Nothing was proved, was it, there was only suspicion, which was why you had to let me
go that time too. Well, I’ve always believed it was Duvallier who reported me, shopped me as they say, cast suspicion on me, and suspicion was all it was, but enough to ruin me, and what’s more he was at that game himself – that was the word anyway – and other games too, and you wonder I call him a bastard.’
The words spewed out of the little man’s mouth and he spoke so rapidly and with such venom that for the first time some colour came into his cheeks and his hands were trembling.
‘A handy man with the needle,’ Lannes said. ‘Or so I’ve heard. Gabrielle was a morphine addict, wasn’t she?’
Peniel surprised him.
‘I cured her of that,’ he said. ‘She was in trouble, and she came to me, calling me Father, which she had never done before, and I cured her, or saw to her cure. It cleaned me out – these cures aren’t cheap. But I did it. Because I felt it was my duty to help her.’
‘Touching,’ Lannes said. ‘And it was Duvallier who supplied her with the stuff, and yet he remained her doctor. That puzzles me.’
‘I told her to get rid of him, but she was obstinate, said he suited her. There was nothing more I could do. Do you think he killed her?’
‘Why should he have done that?’ Lannes said.
For a moment Peniel made no reply. Then he spread his hands. It was an oddly coy gesture.
‘Because he hated her,’ he said, ‘and was afraid of her. Isn’t that enough?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve no evidence. It’s just what I think. I’ve had time to think, sitting where you put me, and I reckon it was the doctor. But it’s just a hunch. Don’t ask me how I come by it because I don’t know. There are a lot of things I don’t know, I’ve come to realise that. But if I was you I would look at his financial position. It’s often money, isn’t it, that leads a man to kill. Have I told you enough to let me go?’
‘When I have that list.’
‘Oh yes, the list. Do you promise?’
‘Would you believe me if I did? It’s the chance you have to take. It’s the only chance you have. One other thing: why did you hand the boy Karim to Félix?’
‘Because he asked for him. Said he needed a brown boy, that is, said he had to be a young one, and he was the only one I knew.’
‘You didn’t care what use Félix might make of him?’
‘Why should I? It’s what he’s for. Rent. And not only to keep that stinking cow his mother in rum, whatever he may have told you. He sells his arse, shamelessly, because that’s what he likes, what he does.’
‘To you also.’
‘And so? I’ve had him, certainly, there’s no point in denying it, but I’ve had better. There was never more to it, and when I told him there would be money in it, his eyes lit up and I couldn’t have held him back even if I’d wanted to. Which I didn’t. Why should I?’
‘But there was no money. Just a beating and a rape’
‘And that’s my affair?’
Lannes turned away and opened the window to let cold winter air into the room. He was going to be late for his appointment with Adrienne Jauzion.
‘You’re disgusting, Ephraim,’ he said.
For the first time in their acquaintance the little man smiled.
‘Édouard,’ he said. ‘Édouard, it’s not good to be an Ephraim now. Superintendent, I’ll make a confession. There are days when I disgust myself. But a man’s got to live, and I am what I am. I don’t hide from myself like some people I could mention do. So, yes, I’ll prepare that list for you. And then?’
‘I’m a man of my word,’ Lannes said. ‘Usually.’
XXXVIII
‘She’s expecting you,’ the elderly maid said. ‘Indeed you’re late, she’s been expecting you the last half-hour, and she’s not accustomed to being kept waiting. So don’t look for a warm reception.’
‘That’s all right,’ Lannes said. ‘I’m not often received as a friend.’
The reception might not be warm, but the apartment overlooking the Place de l’Ancienne Comédie was, and it struck Lannes that it was probably one of the few in the city to be kept at a prewar temperature. When the maid showed him into the salon, the scent of flowers – mingled lilies and roses – was almost overwhelming. Adrienne Jauzion was stretched out on the First Empire chaise-longue, as she had been when he had called more than a year previously to ask her if the man found dead in the public garden was indeed her father, and again the orange Pekingese lay on her lap, and she was stroking it with her right hand. She wore dark glasses, though the light was dim, and Lannes wondered if she had a headache, or was perhaps suffering from a hangover. He apologised for troubling her.
‘You’re late,’ she said, but there was indifference in her tone rather than the reproach he had been warned to expect. ‘Bring us some tea, Berthe. Please sit down and smoke if you wish. I suppose it’s still the matter of Gabrielle’s death that brings you here, superintendent, but I can’t think I have anything to add to what I have already told you. Nevertheless, I agreed to see you because I recognise that I have reason to be grateful, and, as for being late, that is not the sort of thing that irritates me now as it used to. My days are empty as it is, since I decided I would no longer appear on the stage while the Germans are here. That surprises you perhaps? You hadn’t thought me a patriot, I suppose? Well, it surprised me too when I discovered that being applauded by German officers in the stalls made me feel sick. Just a little sick, but sick enough to lead me to this decision. Perhaps it amuses you, superintendent.’
‘Not at all,’ Lannes said. ‘We all – many of us anyway – find ourselves acting these days in ways which we hadn’t expected. Perhaps it’s because we are weary of it all.’
‘Weary and ashamed,’ she said. ‘I think you understand me, superintendent. I had never felt ashamed before. In a curious fashion, it’s a strangely liberating feeling.’
Was the choice of adjective unconscious? There was the ring of sincerity in her voice, and yet, Lannes thought, she was an actress after all, accustomed to make even the most banal lines she was required to speak sound sincere, from the heart. It was quite possible her decision was calculated rather than spontaneous, that she judged, as he did, that the war had turned against Germany, and thought that being known to have withdrawn from the stage during the Occupation would put her in credit when the day of Liberation arrived. He wondered if the Comte de St-Hilaire had offered her such advice.
The maid wheeled in a trolley and poured tea into fine Sèvres china cups. The tea was pale, straw-coloured, aromatic and – he was sure – expensive. He wondered where she found such a luxury. St-Hilaire again, perhaps. Then Berthe handed him a plate with a couple of little almond biscuits on it, and withdrew. The Pekingese woke up, and Adrienne Jauzion popped a biscuit into the dog’s mouth. It chewed it solemnly and flicked out a long pink tongue.
‘Did it ever occur to you that Gabrielle was a morphine addict?’
‘What a strange question, or rather what a strange way of putting it.’
‘Strange?’
‘Unexpected perhaps. Is it relevant to her murder?’
‘Not immediately,’ Lannes said. ‘I have reason to believe she was cured of her addiction, and certainly the post-mortem offered no evidence of needle marks. Yet there is a relevance, or seems to be. Dr Duvallier.’
‘Ah,’ she said, taking a fat Turkish cigarette from the silver box that stood on the little table by the chaise-longue, and fitting it into a long amber holder. She waited for Lannes to rise and light it, and said, ‘He used to be my doctor. Then I found reason to dismiss him.’
‘And that reason? I’ve been told he is “a handy man with the needle”.’
‘Precisely, though I have to say it was only in retrospect that I associated Gabrielle’s violent changes of mood with drug addiction. Perhaps I was naïve, but I had no previous acquaintance with such things.’
‘Kiki knew.’
‘You have seen her? How is the poor child?’
‘Mis
erable, unstable, drinking. I wonder if you might be able to help her?’
‘As I’ve explained, I have withdrawn from the stage for the time being, and so have no need of a dresser. Is this why you’ve come here?’
‘No, I came to ask you about Dr Duvallier. But the girl needs help.’
‘As I told you, I saw her with a German officer. Let him help her.’
‘There’s no help there,’ Lannes said. ‘In any case the relationship is at an end. Over. Finished. I think she’s suicidal.’
He got up, partly because his hip was aching, and crossed the room to the window. He parted the thick velvet curtains and looked out on the square. It had begun to rain and the café tables were deserted.
‘I am sorry to disappoint you,’ she said, ‘but I am scarcely in a position to help anyone. Indeed there are days when I fear I can’t even help myself. I rarely sleep more than couple of hours a night, and then I lie awake thinking and feeling nothing. Nevertheless, since I’m under an obligation to you, superintendent, you may ask her to visit me. Perhaps we can at least share our emptiness.’
‘Thank you.’
‘For nothing,’ she said.
He turned round and said, ‘Duvallier. I may tell you that he interests me because he forced himself on my attention. Then he told me a lie, saying that he became Gabrielle’s doctor only after she was no longer in your service. It’s always interesting when someone lies, unprompted. Why did you dismiss him?’
‘Because I saw him lunching with my uncle, the advocate, and because of the way they looked at each other and laughed together. You know of my … ’ she paused, swallowed, and continued, ‘my experience with my uncle … ’
‘Duvallier told me the advocate was one of his patients. He seemed rather proud of it.’
‘More than a patient, I’m sure of that. Do you think the doctor killed Gabrielle?’
‘It’s possible. There’s no motive I know of, but it’s possible. I am suspicious of anyone who without good reason brings himself to my notice. Gabrielle tried to recruit his step-daughter for the purposes you know of, but there’s no motive there. Nothing happened, and in any case I don’t believe Duvallier feels any affection for the girl, may even regard her as a nuisance. Nevertheless … you understand that I’m thinking aloud.’
