Duval and the Italian Opera Singer

by Michele McGrath

  “You can think on the journey to Paris,” I said. “It will give you something to do. Lefebvre, bind his leg again and tie his hands. I’m going into the cottage to see if there is anything that can help us.”

  I put Marco down and held his hand. We walked towards the hovel.

  “I don’t want to go back in there!” Marco started to pull away from me when we reached the doorway.

  “We’re only going to be a moment, then we’ll return to Paris to find your mother,” I told him. “Did you leave anything behind in here?”

  “My coat and Bruno,” he replied.

  “Who is Bruno?”

  “My dog.”

  He had named a bedraggled stocking twisted into a dog-like shape ‘Bruno’. Marco fell on it, hugging it to him and crying,

  “Oh Bruno, I’m sorry I forgot you. I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “How did you escape from Evrard, Marco?”

  “He kept me tied up,” Marco said pointing to a length of rope attached to a rickety table leg, “but he always took me outside to make pipi. This time I waited until he had untied the knot, then I gave him a big push and ran as fast as I could.”

  “Clever boy!”

  While we had been talking, I had been rapidly searching the cottage. It did not take long. There were two rooms, divided by a wobbly partition. A couple of frowzy beds were in the back part and a few pieces of home made furniture in the other, including the table and some boxes. None of them revealed anything of interest. The place smelt nasty, so I was glad to go outside into the open again. I helped Marco to put on his coat and held him by the hand.

  “We’ll take Evrard to the Ministry,” I said to Lefebvre. “Both he and his brother have some questions to answer. One or other of them should be able to tell us where the boy’s mother is. There’s no sign of her here. Put Evrard into the carriage.”

  I waited until the pair had made their way up the lane, Evrard leaning on Lefebvre’s shoulder and limping unwillingly beside him. From time to time I heard a small gasp. Lefebvre had his dagger out and must be using it to goad him along if he showed signs of flagging. Then I went over to the old woman.

  “Mother, I am going to cut you loose now but if you attack me, I won’t be gentle with you. Once we’ve left, you can do as you like. No one will bother you.”

  “Where are you taking my son?”

  “To prison, he has committed a serious crime.”

  “But he sends me money. What will I have to live on if he is gone?”

  “You should have thought of that before you helped him to hide the boy,” I said and shrugged. “You have other children, no doubt.”

  I walked backward away from her once I had cut her free, unsure what she would do. As it happened she remained on the ground, sobbing. Thinking about Marco stopped me from concerning myself overmuch about her fate. She was not senile. She understood what she was doing and that it was wrong to keep a child tied up and separated from his mother.

  When I arrived at the gig, Lefebvre had already heaved Evrard aboard and lashed him to the rails. It was a crush with three of us so Lefebvre held Marco on his knee. Neither of them enjoyed the experience much. Lefebvre complained that the boy wriggled like an eel and Marco said Lefebvre was bony and uncomfortable to sit on, unlike his mother. I could see his eyes starting to water, so I hurriedly told him that we were going to find her. He seemed to accept that. Indeed, after a while, he fell asleep and did not stir until I pulled the horses up outside the Ministry.

  “I’ll drop the pair of you here,” I told Lefebvre. “Get the local sawbones to stitch up Evrard’s leg and then put him in a cell. I’ll be back to question him later.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To take Marco somewhere safe.”

  Lefebvre helped Evrard down onto the pavement and one of the guards took his other side. Between them they hustled him into the building. Marco made a face at his retreating back.

  “Where are you taking me Signor Alain?” he asked. “To Sofia’s?”

  “No, better not at the moment. I’m taking you to a nice lady’s who will take care of you until I can find your mother. You’ll like her.”

  At least, I thought he would. He had the look of an imp when he was not frightened and might give Eugénie trouble. I hoped she would be in when I arrived. She still takes work home for the dressmaker, Leroy, and sometimes she goes shopping or to visit her mother. My luck was in, however, and she came to meet me as soon as I opened the door. That was good, the fewer people who saw Marco the better. I did not want to explain to my mother-in-law who he was. Aimée was chuckling away in the background but she is too little to tell secrets. I was holding Marco by the hand and he was pulling back as if he was trying to hide behind me.

  Eugénie bent down to him after a quick look at me.

  “Who is this young man?” she asked.

  “His name is Marco.”

  “Hello, Marco. My name is Eugénie. I’m Alain’s wife. Would you like to come in here and play with Aimée?” She held out her hand to him and, after a moment, he let mine go and took hers instead. Eugénie led him into the room and over to Aimée who smiled at him.

  “Are you hungry?” Eugénie asked.

  “Yes.”

  While the children ate their bread and milk, I was able to tell Eugénie what had happened.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just keep him safe for now. Don’t say he’s here or let people see him, if possible, at least for a day or so. He’s had a bad time and been frightened. He’s still scared and worried about his mother.”

  “Poor little soul. Of course I’ll look after him. Hurry up and find her.”

  “I will.”

  I arrived back at the Ministry in the expectation of being able to question both the Evrard brothers. Lefebvre met me with the bad news.

  “You’re not going to like this, Soldier.”

  “What?”

  “While we were away, that fool Petit brought in some prisoners of his own and the cells were full. You hadn’t said that it was a priority to keep Jacques Evrard locked up, so that salaud let him go.”

  “He would, if only to get even with me. Damn him to hell. Is Charles Evrard here?”

  “I’ve prevented anything happening to him.”

  “Has the surgeon seen him?”

  “Just finished.”

  “Let’s talk to him then.” I was in a foul mood. This whole case seemed to teeter back and forth between success and dismal failure.

  “Réal was asking for you. He spoke to me and I told him we’d found the boy. He said you were to report to him before you did anything else.”

  “Merde alors! I haven’t got time. We’ve got to find Carla!”

  “I’ll start questioning Evrard. You go and see Réal and keep him happy. He’s been helpful so far and we don’t want to make him cross. Maybe he has something to tell you.”

  It was sensible but it annoyed me. I nodded and stamped away, still muttering curses. I climbed up the stairs to Réal’s office in no very pleasant mood. He was smiling until he saw the look on my face and then his smile died abruptly.

  “What’s happened?”

  “That fool, Petit, has let one of my prisoners go. We’ll never find him now. He’ll find some rat hole to hide in.”

  “Put Lefebvre on the case then, he knows the slums backwards. I’ve been told you found the boy?”

  I nodded and related the story. As I did so, my temper became less sour. We had managed a success of sorts.

  “Well you have retrieved the most important of the pair,” Réal said. “The child matters more than his mother. Where is he now?”

  “In a safe place. Since there seem to be a number of people who are interested in him, I’d prefer to keep his whereabouts to myself.”

  Réal frowned. I sometimes forget he is my superior at the Ministry. We usually have a good working relationship and he is not used to me treating him with suspicion. I ha
stened to make amends.

  “I’m sorry, Monsieur, I should not have said that. It was not directed at you personally. This case has me rattled and I’m afraid for the boy’s safety.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps your caution is wise. Is he unharmed?”

  “He’s well but missing his mother.”

  “The Minister must be told at once that he has been found. Wait here.”

  Chapter 10

  Réal tapped on the Minister’s door and entered. I heard the mutter of voices and then Réal returned and beckoned me in. Fouché for once was smiling, an odd occurrence and not particularly reassuring.

  “You’ve found him then?” He greeted me.

  “Yes, Monseigneur.”

  “Where is he?” I glanced at Réal and then shrugged. I had to trust these two. Neither had ever let me down — yet.

  “With my wife, Monseigneur.”

  “Bring him here tonight at seven. I would like to behold this prodigy with my own eyes before I inform the Emperor.”

  “Certainly, Monseigneur.”

  “If you can find the mother also, that would be a bonus.”

  “I’ll do my best, but one of the men who could have told us has unfortunately been released and has disappeared.”

  “Who ordered his release?”

  I hesitated. I dislike Petit but I did not want to bring the Minister’s wrath down upon his head. He is bad enough without the added spur of a reprimand and I would have to continue working with him.

  “Don’t trifle with me, Duval,” Fouché said sharply. “Who was it?”

  I sighed. “Petit. The cells were full and he needed the space apparently.”

  “Did he?” Fouché smiled. “Send Petit to me, Réal. We are finished for now. Duval, you may go.”

  I bowed and hurried away thinking I’d have to keep out of Petit’s sight for the next few days until his wrath cooled. He’d be a fool to challenge me, because he is no swordsman, but when he’s in a temper he’s apt to do something stupid. I sighed as I went down the stairs to the cells. At least we had the other Evrard brother locked up and he might even know more than he had told us. He had slept on the journey back, so he did not answer when I asked him for the names of the people who knew he wanted money. I did not force the issue because a jolting gig is no place to conduct an interrogation.

  There was a cry and Lefebvre’s voice raised in anger as I came near to Charles Evrard’s cell. The guard unbolted the door for me. Evrard sat slumped in a chair and Lefebvre looked at me. He seemed shocked. The prisoner was unconscious or feigning it.

  “What did you do to him?” I asked.

  “Nothing much,” Lefebvre said. “I frightened him a bit and hit him a swipe or two with this.” He held a small leather switch in his hand. “My father gave me far worse almost every day when I was growing up, but Evrard passed out. He might be shamming or perhaps he has something wrong with him.”

  “Help me shift him onto the straw,” I said. Between us we untied him, picked him up and laid him down on the palliasse in the corner. I straightened his limbs and then stood up.

  “Did you get anything out of him?” I asked.

  “Little more than we already knew. It was his brother’s idea to take the boy away from his mother. He thought it would be easier to control them if they were apart and worried about each other. Apparently Charles was supposed to leave Marco with the old woman and return, but she couldn’t manage him alone. Her legs aren’t good any more. She was afraid he would escape and become lost.” Lefebvre shrugged. “I’m not sure there is much more.”

  “If there is, he’s not going to tell us yet. We’ll have to wait for him to wake up unless you want to throw a bucket of cold water over him.”

  “No, let him sleep for now. There’s not enough time to do the job properly before I have to go and fetch Marco. The Patron wants to see him.”

  We went out of the cell and locked the door. I gave the guard the strict instructions this time that no one except Lefebvre or Fournier or I was to speak to the prisoner. Under no circumstances was he to be set free, unless the Minister in person released him.

  “What now?” Lefebvre asked, as we climbed the stairs.

  “Back to the Rose first, in case Fournier has returned. He might have some news for us.”

  Fournier wasn’t there but I needed a drink anyway. I was at a loss and I cursed Petit. Lefebvre ‘admired my language’ or so he told me later. Several years in the army had certainly added to my vocabulary. My mother would have been astonished and appalled, although I am not in Lefebvre’s league for swearing. After a couple of glasses of wine, though, I felt mellow and better able to think.

  “I’m going to go to Jacques Evrard’s lodgings, once we’ve finished this bottle,” I said. “He’s a fool if he’s got the girl there, and he didn’t strike me as a fool. So I doubt there’ll be anything to find. It’s too early yet to fetch Marco.”

  “There might be something there to give you a lead and you can’t neglect the obvious, can you? What do you want me to do?” Lefebvre asked.

  I didn’t have time to answer the question because the door opened and Fournier came in.

  “Give me a drink,” he said. “I thought you’d be here.”

  “Did you find Renardin?” Lefebvre poured him a glass and ordered another bottle from the landlord.

  “No, I didn’t. He scarpered the day you two went snooping around Malmaison. They haven’t seen him since.”

  “No one knows where he’s gone, of course?”

  “Of course. He’s not a local; he comes from Alsace or so they told me. If he’s gone back there, he’s well and truly lost.”

  “Easy to escape into the mountains if anyone comes looking,” I agreed. Alsace is like my home area of Dauphiné, very difficult terrain to search. “He’s left a good job so let’s hope someone paid him enough to make it worth his while.”

  “Did you get a description of him?”

  “Medium height, spotty skin, blue eyes and fair hair.”

  “Does he have an accent?” I asked, remembering the Charles Evrard’s description of man who had hired him.

  “No accent, well spoken they said, which was why the Empress liked him.”

  “So he could have been Evrard’s contact.”

  “If we arrest all the fair haired men who speak good French, then the gaols will be bursting,” Fournier reminded me.

  “If he wasn’t at Malmaison, why were you so long coming back?” Lefebvre asked.

  “I searched his sleeping place and where he worked. That took a little time and was pointless because, if there had been anything incriminating, he didn’t leave it behind. I got on the stagecoach and we were almost here when one of the shafts on the coach broke. So I left the driver and guard getting it fixed and had to walk to the city before I could get a hackney. That’s why I’m so thirsty.”

  “Poor man and all for nothing. Rather you than me,” Lefebvre said with a grin.

  “Tell me you’ve done better,” Fournier begged, “please!”

  “We’ve found Marco but not his mother,” I replied and told him the rest of the story.

  “What do you think the Patron wants with the boy?” Fournier asked with a frown. “He’s too young to make much sense.”

  “To see how like the Emperor he really is, I imagine. I’d better be on my way now if I’m to search Evrard’s place and bring Marco to the Ministry at the right time.”

  “Do you want me to go to Les Halles? They may be able to tell me the places Jacques Evrard goes to.” Lefebvre grinned. “Fournier can come with me. Do him good to rub shoulders with the canaille for a change.”

  “What about my sore feet?”

  “A fig for your sore feet. It’ll be good for you to sweat some of the fat off your carcass. Berthe will be pleased!”

  I wrote a short note to Eugénie asking her to have Marco washed and dressed an hour before our appointment with the Minister. Then I paid one of the landlord’s sons to take
it to my home. He’s a good lad and has often run errands for me before. Eugénie always rewards him with some of her baking when he comes, so it’s not in his interest to tell tales about us.

  Jacques Evrard’s lodgings proved to be marginally cleaner than his brother’s but more untidy. There was a nasty smell caused by the damp because the roof leaked. I wondered how long the building would keep standing before it came tumbling down. I mounted the stairs with some reluctance, hoping the catastrophe would not happen while I was inside. There was no concierge to show me the way or open the door for me. Fortunately Lefebvre had given me a picklock ages ago and had showed me how to use it. I was quickly into the room. It was little different from the ones I had searched before. Evrard’s clothes yielded no secrets, nor did the few pieces of furniture or boxes. Nothing was obvious, but most rooms have a secret place and Lefebvre has trained me well. I found Evrard’s cache behind a couple of bricks which were hidden by his mattress. When I pulled it away, I noticed the gaps, although dust had been pushed into the cracks in an attempt at concealment. The haul was a small one. A bundle of francs and a dusty map drawn on a dirty piece of paper. This was hard to read because the writing was faint. I went over to the window but, even so, I took some time before I realised that it was a plan of the streets surrounding Sofia’s house. Here was my proof! Someone had told Evrard the place where Carla and Marco were staying. It did not help me in my search for her, but it incriminated Evrard and might loosen his brother’s tongue.

  The light was fading when I left the building and I realised I would have to hurry. I found a hackney, told him to take me home and then wait for me. The door to the apartment was open when I arrived and Eugénie was looking out. She must have heard my step on the stairs.

  “Where have you been? It’s getting late and Fouché doesn’t like waiting,” she exclaimed as soon as she spotted me.

  “I’ll tell you later. Where’s Marco?”

  “Here, he’s ready. Wait a moment until I put on my hat.”

  “Eugénie, the Minister didn’t ask to see you and there’s Aimée to look after,” I protested.

  “Don’t be foolish. I’m not such a bad mother that I’d leave her here alone. Aimée is with Maman, of course. Marco has been scared enough for such a little boy. He’s not going anywhere without me and you can tell Fouché that. That man scares grown up men and women. How do you think Marco would cope?”