by Martin Lake
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know that full well. But I’ve come to give Viviane a message.’
‘She won’t listen to any messages from you.’
‘I think she will to this,’ he said.
And he pulled out a revolver and shot himself in the head.
WHISPERS
Grasse, 6 June 1944
Roland Boyer was summoned to Schorn’s office later that day. He stared impassively at the Gestapo officer. Schorn had hoisted his feet on the fine oak desk, partly in emulation of the American detectives he adored, partly to annoy Boyer.
‘There’s been a death,’ Schorn said airily. ‘A member of the Milice.’
‘Retaliation?’ Boyer asked.
‘No. If it were then I would investigate it. This was merely a suicide so I’m giving the case to you. It’s high time you pulled your weight around here.’
Boyer did not respond to the jibe. He leaned forward, pleased that at least he could now do some real police work.
‘It’s someone you know,’ Schorn continued. ‘Gerard Pithou, a friend of your brother-in-law.’
‘Gerard?’ Boyer said in surprise. ‘Why on earth would he kill himself? Was there a message?’
‘Not on him. Except maybe the death was the actual message.’
Boyer frowned, puzzled.
Schorn gazed at him intently, eager to see his reaction. ‘He went to find your sister-in-law, you see. Killed himself at her door.’ He chuckled. ‘I imagine that was some kind of suicide note, don’t you?’
Boyer did not give an answer other than an icy stare.
‘Does his mother know?’ he asked, eventually.
Schorn shrugged, picked up a sheet of paper and pointed at the door.
The first thing that Boyer did was to visit Madame Pithou. He knocked on the door with a heavy heart. Gerard was her only child and she had always doted on him.
The interview was one of the more painful ones he had ever experienced. He left the old lady weeping bitterly. He was none the wiser as to a motive.
He climbed on his bicycle and began to ride towards the villa. He looked straight ahead as he rode. Being thrown out of his office by Schorn had been a humiliation but few of the townspeople saw this. But the replacement of his car with a bike was a different matter. When he struggled up cobbled streets on the old bike his humbling was plain for all to see.
He propped the bicycle against the front door of the villa and rang the bell. It was opened a moment later by the handyman.
‘The ladies are upset,’ Pierre explained. ‘I had to prepare lunch for them, although only Madame Pine ate any of it.’
‘Are they too upset to talk?’
‘Of course they are. A man killed himself at the door, for God’s sake. It was horrible.’ He sighed. ‘But you must do your duty, I suppose. Better you than that Gestapo pig.’
He showed Boyer into the sitting room, returning a minute later with Dorothy. She sat in a chair and indicated for Boyer to do the same.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Madame Pine, but I am here to investigate the death of Gerard Pithou.’
‘Suicide, Captain.’
‘That remains to be seen.’
‘Don’t you think that blowing your own brains out is suicide?’
Boyer took out his notebook. ‘If that was indeed the case, then yes.’
‘You think somebody else shot him?’ she said in disbelief.
‘There are many armed men at your house, Madam. Germans.’
Dorothy raised her eyebrows in exasperation. ‘Marie saw him fire the gun.’
Boyer made a note. ‘I shall have to talk with Marie, I’m afraid. And Viviane. Are they calm enough of mind?’
‘Viviane more than Marie.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Witnessing such a dreadful thing was terrible for poor Marie. The doctor’s given her a sleeping draught. I doubt she’ll wake for a couple of hours.’
‘I won’t disturb her for now, then. But I’d like to speak with my sister-in-law? In private, if I may.’
Dorothy got out of her chair with great reluctance. ‘Be gentle with her, Captain. She may not have seen what happened but she’s had a shock.’
At first Viviane was guarded in the answers she gave to him. He grew increasingly exasperated but hid it with practised ease. He was a firm believer that a slow and kindly approach gave quicker results.
‘Have you any idea why he came here?’ he asked.
Viviane swallowed hard. She did not want to be implicated in any way. She thought it best to act completely innocent.
‘Perhaps he found out that I was here and came to ask about Alain.’
Boyer nodded.
‘He was Alain’s best friend,’ she said.
‘And you told him that you were here?’
Viviane paused. ‘No. He found out for himself.’
Boyer made a note.
‘Why do you think he think he did this?’ he asked. ‘It must have taken him time and trouble to locate you.’
‘I’ve no idea, Roland. None whatsoever.’
‘But he was in love with you, of course.’
She blushed furiously. ‘What makes you say that?’
He gave no explanation.
She did not press him for one which made him certain that he had guessed correctly.
She ran her fingers through her hair nervously and glanced at the door.
‘So if he loved you, did he try to force himself upon you?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Nobody actually.’ He paused. ‘Until you did just now.’
She cursed herself for the mistake. She had never been that enamoured of her brother-in-law but she never underestimated him. She was right not to, it seemed.
‘Yes, Roland, he did come here and he did try to force himself on me.’
‘And what happened?’
She paused, wondering how to answer.
‘Did you fight him off? Did somebody else? Or did he have his way with you?’
‘Certainly not,’ she cried. ‘I tried to fight him off but he was too strong.’
‘So he raped you?’
‘No.’
‘Then…?’
Viviane took a deep breath. ‘If you must know, Colonel Weiser came to my assistance.’
Boyer nodded and made a lengthy note of it.
‘Do you think Alain may have been complicit in Gerard Pithou’s death?’
‘How could he be?’
‘He may have threatened him. Made him terrified.
Viviane looked shocked. ‘Do you think Alain would threaten his best friend? Threaten him so much that it drove him to suicide?’
‘If he heard that he had attacked you?’
Viviane paused and then shook her head. ‘Even then, Alain would never do such a thing.’
‘Have you seen Alain lately?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t seen him since he went off in your car. More than six months.’
‘And not a word from him?’
She shook her head and tears began to form in her eyes.
Boyer patted her on the arm. ‘That’s good news, Viviane. It means he’s still in hiding. Still safe. Take comfort from that.’
The door opened suddenly and Dorothy walked in.
‘I think you’ve been questioning her long enough, Captain. She’s tired and still upset.’
Boyer snapped his notebook shut. ‘Of course.’ He got to his feet and spoke quietly to Dorothy. ‘May I see the body?’
Dorothy looked surprised. ‘It’s gone. I’ve no idea where.’
Boyer looked incredulous. ‘It’s gone? How can a body just disappear?’
‘Don’t ask me.’
Boyer suddenly realised. ‘Madame Pine, where can I find the German officer?’
Weiser was the height of civility and helpfulness. Boyer marvelled that he was so unlike Schorn. It was as if they were a different species.
‘We removed the body, immediately,’ Weiser explained. ‘We didn’t
want the ladies to be more upset than they already were.’
‘So where is the body?’
‘I’ve no idea. My men moved it.’
‘And you didn’t tell them where to remove it to?’
Weiser gave him an incredulous look. ‘I don’t have time for such details, Captain.’
Boyer’s eyes narrowed. He sensed there was something wrong here. ‘Of course, if you had shot him then you would be quick to destroy the evidence.’
‘But he shot himself, Captain. The maid saw this. And why on earth would I do such a thing?’
‘Because he attacked Viviane Renaud, perhaps?’
Weiser’s foot began to tap gently on the floor. He was not aware of it but Boyer was. A sign of nervousness, perhaps. Or duplicity.
‘Yes, he did, Captain Boyer, and it was a vile act. But hardly a motive for me to kill him.’
Boyer shrugged. He sensed that Weiser was saying less than he might.
‘That’s as maybe, Colonel,’ he continued. ‘But disposing of the body is rather suspicious, is it not?’
‘To suspicious minds, Captain Boyer. To a policeman. I, fortunately, am merely a soldier.’
‘And where do soldiers dispose of those who have died?’
‘In the heat of a battle, they are left to rot. If there is time they are burnt or buried in a pit with their fellows.’
‘And Gerard Pithou?’
‘I told you, I don’t deal with such matters.’ He held Boyer’s gaze. ‘I’ll send for my sergeant.’
The sergeant was very precise in his answer. He had taken the corpse to the barracks and burnt it in the incinerator.
Boyer sighed and put away his notebook. There was no point in pursuing anything more here.
He decided not to question Marie. The easiest thing to do was to accept it was a suicide. Now the case had become merely an enigma. In the past he would have kept it open and investigated it, for years if need be. But now it was just one death out of millions.
But as he climbed onto his bicycle, he decided he would keep the case open after all. Justice had to be done and seen to be done. Gerard Pithou’s mother deserved that at the very least.
When he returned home that evening, he found Odette pacing the room in wait for him.
‘Have you been investigating the Pithou murder?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve been waiting to hear since this morning.’
Boyer raised an eyebrow. He knew that such things could not be kept quiet for long but this had got out very quickly. The body must have still been warm when news of it spread across town.
‘It’s not a murder,’ he said. ‘It was suicide.’
Odette gave a doubtful look. ‘Was there a note?’
‘It’s under investigation,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t want to discuss it.’
Yet despite his protests he knew very well that she would find out some details of the case. Partly because she would not rest until she managed to inveigle some information out of him. But it also because her network of informers was every bit as good as his and he hoped that he might learn something from her.
She opened a bottle of wine and poured him a glass.
‘I didn’t think we had any left,’ he said.
‘I managed to scrape together some money to buy it,’ she said with a smile.
She took a seat beside him. ‘So if it was a suicide,’ she said almost to herself, ‘what would have prompted it?’
Boyer sipped at his wine but did not answer. It was very good wine, the best he had tasted in a long while.
He leaned his head against the chair back and closed his eyes.
‘Of course Gerard always had the hots for Viviane,’ Odette said.
‘I didn’t know,’ Boyer said.
‘Oh yes. Perhaps he tried it on with her and got nowhere. He was an ugly specimen and I guess even Viviane draws the line somewhere. Maybe he shot himself in despair.’
Boyer was surprised at how quickly Odette had arrived at this conclusion. He wished that some of his sergeants were as skilful.
He heard her adding more wine to his glass but did not open his eyes. He wanted to listen to her ruminate undisturbed.
‘Or maybe she was so incensed that she killed him. She’s always had a fiery temper.’
‘Where would Viviane get a gun?’ he asked, still without opening his eyes.
She did not answer. Her fingers drummed rapidly on the table. He reached for his wine and took another sip.
‘She could have got it from the Germans,’ she said. ‘I hear there are some at the villa.’
‘And she wrestled with the Colonel to seize the gun?’ He gave a snort of derision.
Odette gazed at him. So there was a colonel at the villa? She hadn’t known that.
Her mind began to race like a hare. This way, that way, veering from side to side, sniffing at different concepts, different notions.
‘Have you seen the Colonel?’ she asked after a while.
He nodded. ‘I questioned him this afternoon.’
‘Is he an older man?’
‘In his forties, I should think. Why do you ask?’
Odette filed away the fact that Marie had lied to her about his age.
‘A man in his forties,’ she said, ‘hundreds of miles away from any wife and living in the same place as Viviane. And she with Alain out of the way for months. Why do you think I asked?’
Boyer sat up at her words, his mouth wide in surprise.
‘Pah,’ Odette said. ‘I should have been the Police Captain and you should have kept house.’
‘It’s only your guess,’ he said, aggrieved. ‘It wouldn’t stand up in court.’
‘It’s a well-informed guess,’ she said. ‘I know my sister, the little tart.’
She got up and put on her coat.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To see Jeanne.’
He groaned. The news of Gerard’s death had spread very quickly. Odette’s gossip about Viviane would spread quicker than the plague.
‘I don’t think you should talk to Jeanne,’ he called.
But he was too late. By the time he’d got out of his chair, she was gone.
HOPE KINDLED
Grasse, 7 June 1944
Viviane smiled at Weiser as he lay sleeping. She was still shaky from hearing what Gerard had done but she felt a new sense of safety because of it.
She stepped out of the room and saw Dorothy sitting in a chair opposite.
She put her fingers to her lips and beckoned to Viviane to follow her into the kitchen. The sun was just breaking above the horizon and the walls began to turn a muted rose colour.
‘I don’t know why I sleep with him,’ Viviane said. She was embarrassed that Dorothy had seen her leaving the room but realised that there was now no point in denying what had been going on.
‘I’m not interested in your love life,’ Dorothy replied. ‘I’ve got news. Important news.’
She tip-toed to the door, led Viviane outside and closed it softly behind them.
‘The Allies have invaded France,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Allied forces landed in Normandy yesterday morning. Americans, British and Canadians. We’re gonna be liberated.’
She threw her arms around Viviane and hugged her tight.
‘How do you know?’ Viviane asked when Dorothy finally let her go.
‘The radio. Pierre hid it from the Germans. He keeps it in a shack up in the woods. He’s just heard the news.’
‘Was the message genuine? Could it be propaganda?’
‘Don’t be foolish. Why would the Germans admit that they’d been invaded?’
‘I mean Allied propaganda, not German. Ernst says that the Nazis have developed new wonder weapons so maybe they’re winning the war and the Allies are growing desperate.’
Dorothy was silenced by this news for a moment but then shook her head with great determination. ‘I don’t think that President Roosevelt would lie.’
Any
doubts were swiftly dismissed during the course of the day. A steady stream of soldiers came to Weiser with messages. Late in the morning he and Mundt travelled down to the barracks and only returned late in the evening. They looked tense and careworn.
Viviane prepared them a late, light supper but Marie brought it back to the kitchen virtually uneaten.
Everyone retired to bed. Viviane lay restless, wondering whether or not to go to Weiser. He had seemed so exhausted that maybe it would be better to leave him on his own for the night. In the end she convinced herself to go to him. She might be a comfort to him and besides, if she didn’t go it might make him suspicious.
Most important of all, she wanted to find out what was happening.
She crept along the corridor which was well lit by the light from a full moon. Just as she was about to pass Dorothy’s room, she heard a loud crash and a groan.
She opened the door in alarm and saw Dorothy lying naked beneath the window. At the same moment a second naked figure leapt from the bed and bent down beside her. It was Marie.
‘She’s fainted,’ she said. ‘She’s been celebrating too much. Help me get her back in bed.’
The two women lifted her between them and settled her against the pillows. She opened her eyes and grinned. ‘Here’s to Ike and Monty,’ she said in a slurred voice. ‘I want another cognac.’
‘You’ve had enough,’ Marie said.
‘Then let’s make love again.’ She pulled Marie closer.
Viviane stared at them open-mouthed.
‘I’d better go,’ she said, at last.
‘Thank you,’ Marie said. ‘She’s done this a few times before. She’ll be alright.’
Viviane closed the door behind her and shook her head in surprise. We get our love where we can, she thought with a growing smile. Then she went down the stairs.
Weiser was sitting at his table, poring over a map of France. He looked up as she entered, almost went to fold up the map, but immediately returned to his scrutiny.
‘Where are you looking for?’ she asked with an innocent tone.
He stared at her for a moment and then sighed. ‘You’ll know soon enough, I suppose. We found out yesterday that Rome has fallen to the Allies.’
Then he pointed to the northern coast of France. ‘And there’s more. The Allies have invaded Normandy. Thousands of ships, tens of thousands of men.’ He paused. ‘Actually the Allies claim a hundred and fifty thousand men were landed.’
