Ah merde, merde, had they not had enough trouble for one day? wondered Jouvand. ‘The soup kitchens are run by the Sisters of Charity to whom we give assistance on occasion. The sweaters are knitted by the good ladies of our parish and by some of the sisters. Mittens and scarves, woollen socks … ah! they turn their considerable talents to so many things when given the materials, which are in such short supply God Himself is doubtful of the venture, but no matter. Are you positive our relief parcels never reach their intended destinations?’
‘It’s only rumoured the things are sent to Russia, but sometimes the Wehrmacht’s censors do get lazy with the mail. A month before they were killed at Stalingrad, my two sons wrote to tell my wife—ah, my ex-wife—that they had received Red Cross parcels from France destined for French prisoners of war.’
Ever so slightly Jouvand gave the Gestapo a nod of understanding, indicating that from now on all courtesies such as being invited into the parish office had been cancelled for ever. ‘On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays the sisters, two by two, assist with the soup kitchens but not only in Suresnes and Aubervilliers, in other suburbs as well. The matter is decided by the Sisters of Charity, not by ourselves. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays six of them knit sweaters and other things in the parish hall, which is right below our feet and unheated, you understand, except for the closeness of the other parishioners, who are engaged in the same task out of charity. Two hours at a time, I believe. Now, if that will satisfy you, I will take you to the front door.’
So much for knitting needles and crucifixes. Kohler went to dump his mégot tin into the priest’s ashtray but was stopped by the hand of God.
‘Please don’t deny yourself on my account, Inspector. I would only throw them into the fire when we have one.’
‘And here I thought only Bavarians were stubborn? That would be a stupid waste and you know it. So tell me, how is it teaching sisters have time off to do other things?’
Those deep brown eyes sought him out again and held him fast.
‘Because not all of our nuns are teachers and some of those are spelled from time to time, and because God’s work is never done. Necessity demands our every effort. Would you have the children in those tenements starve when Monsieur Vernet sees that we have sufficient food and a little of it can be spared? Though we do not tell him this, I am certain he is aware of it.’
‘Then let’s make peace, eh, Father? We’re here to help, not to condemn, and we’ve got a very lonely, terrified little girl we have to find and yes, please God, let us find her.’
Two packets of U-boat cigarettes were dragged out and pressed into the priest’s hand, a temptation God Himself could not have resisted in these times of such terrible shortages.
‘Violette Belanger is une belle gamine, Inspector, a good-looking kid, but the ache in the Sister Céline’s heart is so great, God is very troubled. The one tries only to service the Occupier and make her fortune which her maquereau promptly pockets, while the other seeks constantly to change a heart that is granite-hard and content if only for spite’s sake. If it is someone in the guise of a nun that you are looking for, why not try the house on the rue Chabanais, since, much to our continued discomfort and dismay, Violette Belanger makes a mockery there of that same sister under whose very care she was raised.’
Ah nom de Dieu, de Dieu, a convent classroom in a whorehouse and if not a ‘nun’, then a ‘priest’, ah yes, a ‘priest’.
Kohler nodded his thanks, inwardly heaving a huge sigh of relief at finally getting somewhere, though he knew all such sighs could so often be premature.
‘Tread lightly, Inspector. That bordel is the largest of the houses that are reserved for your soldiers. It is large enough to cater to every indecent and shameful act. Its madam is a most formidable and impossible woman, a creature of the gutters herself who is sly and wilful and very wicked. If she gets wind of who you are, she may play along but only for a while. She absolutely detests the police and operates with complete impunity, having paid off the préfet himself but also having the sanction of the Wehrmacht, including that of the Kommandant von Gross-Paris himself. I give you fair warning. It is yours to have.’
But first they had to find the heiress.
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