Tales of the Shadowmen 3: Danse Macabre

by Jean-Marc Lofficier

  The Inspector coughed slightly. Lefevre attributed that cough to a consequence of the investigator’s earlier pneumonia. D’Andresy was summarizing the case to his superior.

  “Since Morrell strangled the women whose portraits he painted, our supposition has naturally been that the new Bluebeard must also be an artist. All of his victims posed for either painters or sculptors. Our suspicions focused on the sculptor Boris Yvain, because three of the victims were amongst his models, but he has no connection to the other two. He also has an unbreakable alibi for the night of one of the murders. I now have a new suspect, Jacques Saillard.”

  “The painter whose work is said to be even more erotic than that of Monet and Renoir?”

  “Yes, the same. All the victims had posed for him at some point. There’s also an intriguing point about Saillard. He has never appeared in public. His physical appearance remains a mystery. I have a suspicion that he may be related to Morrell.”

  “Why do you believe that?”

  “Madness runs in that family. Morrell’s nephew was the recently deceased College Girl Murderer. His brother, Philippe Fourneau, vanished from a Swiss boarding school in 1891. I viewed the corpse of Louis Fourneau in order to get some idea of Philippe’s probable appearance. My theory is that Philippe is both Bluebeard and Saillard.”

  “Have you been able to trace any of Saillard’s other models?”

  “He’s done a rather conservative portrait of the celebrated Isadora Klein.”

  “But she’s in Germany. Do we have any other leads on him here?”

  “So far, no. I hope to locate him by interrogating Maurice Joyant, the art dealer who exhibits his paintings.”

  “I’ve never met Saillard,” answered Joyant. “The delivery of the paintings, as well as any financial dealings, have all been handled through an intermediary.”

  “Who is he?” asked d’Andresy.

  “Saillard’s proxy is a she, Inspector. In fact, she posed for his painting, The Lady in the Black Gloves.”

  “Is that painting here?” asked Lefevre.

  “No, it’s in London,” replied Joyant. “It was sold last year to a wealthy British collector, Noel Moriarty.”

  “What’s the model’s name?”

  “Irina Putine.”

  The Chupin Detective Agency was a large three-storied building. The firm had been founded in 1868 by Victor Chupin. When Inspector d’Andresy arrived, he immediately asked to see Chupin, but was informed by a secretary that her employer was working on a case in Spain. She directed him to Chupin’s chief assistant, Irina Putine.

  As the policeman entered Irina’s office, she rose from her desk to greet him.

  “Inspector, this is a surprise, please have a chair. When I met you the other day, I didn’t compliment you on the extraordinary job that you did in the Caribbean.”

  “Thank you, Mademoiselle. My only regret is that I didn’t apprehend the ringleader of the smuggling syndicate in Louisiana. I hope that you’ll assist me in finding an equally elusive quarry.”

  “Whom do you seek?”

  “A painter named Jacques Saillard. He’s sought for questioning in the Bluebeard murders.”

  “I’m not surprised. My own investigation has concluded that Bluebeard is killing Saillard’s models. You must have uncovered my role in the exhibition of his work. I’d like to help you, but I’m bound by the rules of confidentiality to protect Saillard’s identity. You’ve placed me in an awkward position.”

  “No, Mademoiselle, you’ve placed yourself in this awkward position. Do you claim that your so-called client is someone other than yourself?”

  “I’m not sure I understand the meaning of your question, Inspector.”

  “I had initially assumed that Saillard was a man. But now, the thought occurs to me that a clever woman with artistic ability could easily produce such paintings under a male pseudonym. This would be particularly desirable if the artist in question is pursuing a bohemian lifestyle. I assume from the title of your self-portrait that you only wore two small articles of clothing?”

  “You have clearly not viewed The Lady in the Black Gloves, Inspector. I posed in attire similar to what I’m now wearing. My portrait is no more controversial than the painting of Isadora Klein.”

  “Doctor Maubeuge told me the details of his earlier conversation with you. You are aware of the connection between Gaston Morrell and the College Girl Murderer?”

  “Yes. We appear to have both researched Morrell’s family thoroughly.”

  “Let us talk about the woman whom you identified as Irene to Doctor Maubeuge. Have you heard of the Werewolves?”

  “Yes. They were a criminal gang that emerged during the late 1860s. In 1893, their leader, Lothaire Stepphun, was arrested in New York for murder. Soon after his incarceration, he was fatally shot while trying to escape. What relevance does this have to Irene?”

  “A minor member of the Werewolves gang was a prostitute who acted as a courier between Stepphun and his fence. She was little better than a ‘prostitute.’ Her name was Victoire Chupin. She came from the same criminal family that spawned the founder of your agency; in fact, she’s his sister.”

  “It is true that my employer had a checkered past, but he’s made amends for it decades ago. Mind you, the same was true of the founder of the Sûreté.”

  “Victoire was arrested in 1868 for transporting stolen goods and sentenced to a year in prison. After her release, she gave birth to a daughter named Irene. I put it to you that this is Louis Fourneau’s sixth victim.”

  “I do not dispute the fact, Inspector.”

  “In 1872, Victoire became the personal maid to Henriette d’Andresy, a banker’s daughter. The following year, Mademoiselle d’Andresy was disowned by her father because she chose to marry Théophraste Lupin, whom he believed to be unscrupulous gold digger. Whether or not Théophraste truly loved Henriette, I don’t know. But what I do know is that, prior to his marriage, he had long been Victoire’s lover. In fact, Irene was their daughter. Théophraste and Henriette moved into a new residence. Despite the awkwardness, Victoire and her daughter were allowed to live with the Lupins. In 1874, Henriette gave birth to Théophraste’s legitimate child, Arsène. Victoire then became the young boy’s nurse. Arsène Lupin, who now calls himself Raoul d’Andresy.”

  “Are you related to him, Inspector? You implied as much when we met at the asylum.”

  “The Lupin marriage soon dissolved after Henriette realized that Irene was Théophraste’s bastard child. She fled, reassumed her maiden name, changed her son’s first name and even forgave Victoire for her betrayal. Henriette perceived her as a stupid woman who had been entirely fooled by Théophraste. Henriette supported herself by being a servant in the household of old friends, the Dreux-Soubise. A few years later, however, Irene followed in her mother’s criminal footsteps. She foolishly stole a brooch. When the theft was discovered, Irene was exiled under the alias of Tupin to Madame Fourneau’s boarding school.”

  “Maybe Irene wasn’t guilty of the theft of the brooch, Inspector.”

  “Please enlighten me, Mademoiselle.”

  “A couple of years prior, the Dreux-Soubise had been robbed of a diamond necklace. Was Irene in the household at that time? No, she wasn’t. What a pity! We can’t blame her for that earlier theft. On the other hand, Raoul was. But please, continue with your narrative. I’m curious to see where it’ll lead us.”

  “When Henriette died in 1886, Victoire could have retrieved Irene from the boarding school but instead she busied herself with raising Raoul. Besides, Irene’s letters indicated that she was very happy at Madame Fourneau’s College.”

  “The mail was rigidly censored there, Inspector, by the headmistress’ prefect. Do you know who she was at the time?”

  “No, I do not, Mademoiselle, but I fail to see the relevance...”

  “Her name was Josephine Balsamo. Have you ever heard of a historical figure called Joseph Balsamo, Count Cagliostro?”

&nb
sp; “Yes, I’ve read of him in novels by Dumas.”

  “Have you any clues as to the identity of Clio Gosart, the author of the letters predicting the new Bluebeard’s murders?”

  “If I did, I would not share them with you, Mademoiselle. I will merely remark that Clio is the Muse of History and Jan Gosart was a Renaissance painter.”

  “That artist was also known as Jan Mabuse because of his Flemish origins. And Clio Gosart is an anagram of Cagliostro, Inspector. The role of Clio in mythology also suggests that Josephine Balsamo was the Muse, whom Louis Fourneau cited as the inspiration behind his crimes.”

  “That anagram proves nothing, Mademoiselle.”

  “Have you ever heard of an alleged descendant called Countess Cagliostro?”

  “Yes, I remember such a name figuring in a few unrelated cases, but I can’t see its connection with these recent deaths.”

  “There was a confidence trickster calling herself Countess Cagliostro active in Paris during 1870. Twenty year later, a woman appeared in Panama under that name. While too young to be the earlier Countess, she was the right age to be the Josephine Balsamo from the College. This 1890 Countess romanced Caratal, an important witness in the Canal scandal. Following his disappearance under highly unusual circumstances, there was speculation that the Countess betrayed his movements to the conspirators behind the swindle. Previously, in April 1889, a woman only identified as ‘the Countess’ allegedly ruined General Boulanger’s political career by convincing him to flee France after his indictment for treason.”

  “These are cases of high finance and politics, Mademoiselle. We are dealing now with a murderous lunatic.”

  “Josephine Balsamo could be playing a complicated game for higher stakes. Months after Boulanger’s disgrace, she visited her former school. The College Girl Murders commenced following her departure.”

  “Mademoiselle, you are the one playing games. You have been seeking to divert me from my primary inquiry. I have made two accusations, and you have yet to answer them. Are you Jacques Saillard? Are you Irene, Louis Fourneau’s sixth victim?”

  “Regarding the first charge, no. I met the real Jacques Saillard two years ago in Berlin. Otto Klein, the sugar magnate, engaged the Chupin Detective Agency to prevent his wedding reception from being disrupted by burglars. The bride introduced me to Jacques Saillard, and I posed for him. Isadora Klein later hired the Agency to assist in the selling of his work. As I said, I’m not at liberty to reveal Saillard’s identity, but Madame Klein is. She arrived in Paris yesterday and is a guest of the Royal Palace Hotel. If I explain the circumstances in a letter that you can present to her, she will likely disclose his whereabouts.”

  “There still remains the matter of Irene. Irina is the Russian form of Irene... You talked about anagrams earlier. Your current surname is a virtual anagram of Tupin. In other languages, your surname would be spelt without an ‘e.’ The extra letter is essential in French to mimic the Russian pronunciation.”

  “Are you not forgetting a blatant fact, Inspector? Irene’s hands were horribly severed. I have a pair of hands, as you can plainly see.”

  “Yet, you always wear gloves, Mademoiselle. I have heard rumors of great advances in the creation of artificial limbs. Someone may even be able to paint with such appendages. I would like you to remove your gloves.”

  “You’re dangerously close to becoming offensive, Inspector, but I will comply.”

  Irina doffed her gloves. She displayed a set of perfectly formed human hands.

  “You may wish to touch them to make sure that they are real. You have my permission.”

  She rose from behind her desk and then presented her hands to the Inspector. He felt them and concluded that they were surely not synthetic.

  “Now that I have acceded to your ridiculous demand, Inspector, please let me write the letter.”

  At the Royal Palace Hotel, d’Andresy requested an interview with Madame Klein. It was granted by the raven-haired socialite.

  “I hope that you were not too upset by Irina’s refusal to disclose Jacques Saillard’s identity, Inspector,” said Madame Klein after having read the letter. “She was bound by promises of secrecy.”

  “I overstepped, Madame. I falsely accused Mademoiselle Putine of being Saillard.”

  “That is ironic. Irina told me that she had been an artist in her youth. But she’s abandoned such pursuits to join the Chupin Detective Agency.” Then, she added: “I understand the gravity of the situation, Inspector. I will answer all your questions, but you must promise not to make my answers public if they clear Saillard of all suspicion.”

  “Your terms are acceptable. Who is Jacques Saillard?”

  “I am. I use a pseudonym to overcome the prejudices of male art critics. My first painting was a self-portrait.”

  As Isadora Klein was in Berlin during all of the killings except the last, d’Andresy returned to police headquarters. He reviewed the files on the College Girl Murders. They contained information on Anatole Cerral, a surgeon who advocated outlandish medical procedures. He had treated the injured Irene.

  The Inspector retired to his home in the Rue St. Claude. There, he removed the fake wig and beard as well as the glasses that hid his true appearance, that of a much younger man. He then perused a series of papers in which the name of Raoul d’Andresy appeared very frequently.

  Among these papers was the birth certificate of Arsène Lupin.

  The same night, Irina Putine was conferring with a middle-aged woman inside her office at the Chupin Detective Agency. The lady was her mother, Victoire. There existed a strong degree of resentment in Irina towards her mother, due to events in the past. As a result, they rarely saw each other. But now, the circumstances demanded it.

  “I have asked you here because I need information about Papa,”said Irene. “He was more than just a professor of gymnastics.”

  Victoire did not respond.

  “He was Lothaire Stepphun,” asserted Irina.

  “How did you discover that?”

  “Your earlier association with the Werewolves. Lothaire Stepphun is an anagram of Théophraste Lupin. I believe the daughter of one of Papa’s enemies has been using anagrams, too, for her own purposes.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Before I disclose her identity, we need to have an open discussion of a certain event in 1880. The theft of the reconstituted Queen’s Necklace from the Dreux-Soubise. Uncle Victor briefed me about that affair, I know Raoul stole the necklace and gave it to Papa...”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Neither do I, but it’s relevant to my current line of investigation. I do have but one question, anyway. Did anyone try to steal the necklace from Papa?”

  “Yes, there was this woman who posed as a purchaser for the gems. I never knew her name, but she belonged to the Black Coats. They attacked your father. One of his paramours stabbed her. I later heard that she died of her wounds.”

  Victoire’s revelation enabled Irene to grasp Josephine’s scheme. The dead woman must have been her mother, the 1870 Countess Cagliostro, who likely had coveted the Queen’s Necklace because of its connection to her ancestor, Count Cagliostro. The current Josephine had been orchestrating a complex scheme of vengeance against the Lupin family in order to avenge her mother’s death. Irene’s own debasement at the School was merely part of this vendetta.

  “Mama, did Papa commit that murder in 1893 that led to his death in New York?”

  “No, your father was a thief and a swindler, but he wasn’t a murderer. Evidence was fabricated against him by one of his enemies.”

  “Probably by the Black Coats. The daughter of the woman who was stabbed in 1880 is behind it all, Mama. Her name is Josephine Balsamo.”

  “Josephine Balsamo! Arsène never mentioned any connection between her and the Queen’s Necklace.”

  “Arsène! What does he have to do with her?”

  “Oh! I shouldn’t have said anything. I’
m sorry, but I can’t tell you. Arsène swore me to secrecy.”

  “Oh really, Mama, we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. We’re one happy family,” said Irene sarcastically. “I keep my distance from Arsène, but I have followed the news about him. He lives in Normandy with his wife, Clarisse. What’s the problem? Were he and Josephine lovers?”

  “Stop it! I agreed to conceal from him that you’re back in France. He still thinks you’re in England. In exchange, you’re not to bother me about him. Why can’t you make peace with him? Do you realize that you haven’t seen him for 11 years?”

  “But we must discuss it, Mama. I will not have you place his interests over mine, your own blood. Now, tell me. I want to know what happened between Arsène and Josephine.”

  But Victoire remained silent.

  The next day, a letter bearing the Clio Gosart signature was received at L’Echo de France. The police were immediately notified that Bluebeard was about to strike again.

  Maurice d’Andresy informed Chief Inspector Lefevre that there were only two of Jacques Saillard’s models left in Paris: Isadora Klein and Irina Putine. Although the real Saillard had been cleared, the two policemen still agreed that the killer was targeting his models.

  The pair formulated a strategy to protect the two ladies. Lefevre would take a squad of policemen to shield Madame Klein. Meanwhile, d’Andresy would bring Irina to that same location.

  When d’Andresy arrived at the Chupin Detective Agency, Irina was attired in a comparable fashion as the day before, except that her dress was dark red. He requested that she accompany him to a safehouse guarded by the Sûreté. His request was quickly rebuffed.

  “I’ll be safer here surrounded by my own operatives,” argued Irina. “I’m convinced that you and your colleagues have been grossly incompetent so far.”

  “You’re acting like a fool, Mademoiselle. Is there anything that I could do to persuade you to change your mind?”