by Estelle Ryan
“Last month she told me she’d saved one and half million euros, so she never needed to work again. She just wanted to play the piano and this last big deal was going to double her savings. She was excited about it. I had graduated and was settling down and it was her turn. Now... now it’s all for nothing.”
Daniel waited while she wiped fresh tears with her tissue. He cleared his throat. “Did she say anything else about the huge deal? Names, places, anything?”
Claire thought about this for a moment, all the while slowly shaking her head. “Nothing concrete. I’m... I was always so worried and curious about her life and work that I grabbed every small detail she ever shared. All I remember is that she mentioned two men. Not their names, just that she co-operated with them. My impression was that these men didn’t know each other. I got the impression that she controlled only one relationship. I can’t remember what gave me that impression, but I was convinced she was scared of the other man.”
I leaned forward, closely watching every single micro-expression. Claire Pichet was telling the truth.
“Any idea when she’d met this man?” Daniel asked.
“The one she was scared of? No. The other one I think she’d known for a few years. She’d only recently started talking about the scary man. The other one... years?” She paused, her eyes going up and left—she was recalling memories. Then she nodded. “Yes, it’s been at least four years. He helped her getting the drugs into the country. She’d... wait! One day she said something about a warehouse.” She paused. “Does this help?”
“A lot.” Daniel had barely managed to hide his excitement. He’d most likely also come to the conclusion that the one man was probably Gilles. “This warehouse. Do you remember anything else?”
She took her time to think about this. Her shoulders dropped. “No. I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be. This is truly helpful.” Daniel paused when Claire’s expression changed.
She frowned and blinked a few times, her fist pushed against her mouth—deep in thought. Her eyes widened and she turned her attention back to the camera. “Six months. I remember now. Six months ago, Adèle said she’d had a run-in with a scary man. By then, I’d learned not to react and tell her to be careful. When I did that, she just stopped sharing.”
“What happened six months ago?” Daniel asked.
“I lost a patient and was very sad. This is why I remember that day. I didn’t want to talk about my job or myself and focused on Adèle. She told me she’d made a mistake and thought this guy was on to her, but she’d managed to avoid being discovered. You know? Now that I think about this, I don’t think she’d ever met this man.
“The few times she talked about him was usually about making sure that he never found out where to find her. The very little she said about him led me to believe that he was her supplier. I never managed to figure out where she got the drugs from, but I was sure he was either the point of origin or the next step. I also never figured out exactly how the drug-dealing business worked.”
Her chin contracted and her voice grew shaky. “Adèle kept all that from me. She said she didn’t want that life and those people ever getting close to me. Especially the scary man. She was adamant that he would never find me.”
“She loved you.” Daniel waited until Claire regained control over her emotions. “Why is it that your parents didn’t tell you what happened to Adèle?”
Her sadness turned into anger and her husband rubbed her shoulders as he leaned a bit closer to the camera. “We broke contact with them three years ago. Those people are toxic.”
Claire gripped his hand. “Arnaud helped me break those ties. It was liberating. Adèle was stronger than me. She stopped speaking to our parents the moment we left Paulhan. I still spoke to my mom a few times a year after that.”
“And every time it devastated her.” Arnaud’s nostrils flared. “That woman had nothing positive to say to Claire. Ever. And she never made the effort to phone or make any contact. If it wasn’t for Claire phoning her, they would’ve never talked.”
“She’s an angry and sad woman.” Anger forced colour into Claire’s cheeks. “She blamed me for Adèle having a heart condition. As if I caused it. Adèle was born with it.”
“Did you know about all of this?” Daniel asked.
“Who? Me?” Arnaud touched his chest. “Yes and no.”
“I told Arnaud everything about my childhood, my parents and Adèle.” Claire bit her lip, guilt pulling at the muscles around her eyes and mouth. “I told him that Adèle paid for everything in my life and that he should never ask where the money came from.”
Arnaud’s lips tightened. “I asked only that once. It was the first time I looked at Adèle’s business website and realised things were off.”
“I begged him to let it be.”
His expression made me lean forward. “You didn’t.”
Arnaud blinked and moved away from the camera. Claire frowned, then turned to look at Arnaud. “What is she talking about?”
“I love you, Claire.” Guilt was now the dominant expression on his face. “But I worried and wanted to make sure you are safe.”
“What did you do?” Her question was breathless.
“I created a dummy account and ordered perfume from Adèle.” He relaxed, his smile small, but genuine. “She figured out it was me and came to my office.”
“She came to Paris?”
“She did. And she told me about the drugs.” His smile widened. “Then she told me in graphic detail what she would do to me if I ever told you she came to me or that I knew.”
Claire was sobbing. “Oh, Adèle.”
“It was easy to see she had a heart of gold.” He reached out and wiped tears from her cheeks. “So I let it be.”
“You’re right.” Claire took a shuddering breath. “Her heart wasn’t weak. It was strong. And big. I’m the one with the weak heart.”
“We weren’t able to find any records of Adèle receiving any medical treatment.” Daniel surprised me with that information. He’d been very proactive. “Did she use an alias?”
Claire nodded. “She had two aliases. One she used for her work. Her drug-dealing persona was Élodie Baille and the one for her medical stuff was Janine Durand.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Francine lift her tablet. We had two more names to teach us more about Adèle.
“Was Adèle interested in art?” Daniel asked. “Or maybe she considered investing in art?”
Claire tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “If you’re asking whether she sold stolen art or forgeries, I truly don’t know. But I honestly don’t think she would’ve. She made a lot of money with her drugs. She always said that one shouldn’t change horses mid-race. And she was close to the end of her race. So no. I don’t think she dealt in art. That being said, it’s very possible the valuable things that were her ticket out were artworks. I honestly don’t know.”
“Only a few more questions.” Daniel gave her an apologetic smile. “We’re almost done.”
Claire straightened. “I don’t mind. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Okay then. Did Adèle ever mention a Jason or Jace?”
“No.”
“Franz Roubaud?”
“No.”
“The Oxus treasure?”
She blinked in surprise. “No.”
Daniel glanced at the notes he’d made on his phone. “That seems to be all the questions I have for you at the moment.”
“Oh. Okay.” She leaned forward. “I’ll leave my phone on and will keep it with me all the time. If you need to know anything else, please phone me.”
“Thank you. I will.” Daniel paused. “You’re an exceptional woman, Claire. I see why Adèle did so much to see you succeed. Two exceptional women, the both of you.”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. As silent tears ran down her cheeks, she nodded her thanks.
Daniel spoke with Fabien, the
n reassured Claire and Arnaud that he’d stay in touch. It took a few minutes to convince them to accept police protection until the case was solved. But they immediately agreed to keep the interview and all questions asked confidential. They understood that any leaked information could jeopardise the case and possibly put their lives in danger. A few more pleasantries and the call ended.
It was silent in my viewing room for a few seconds. My mind was racing with this new information. It was most frustrating to have so many unconnected bits of information. I put the photos from Adèle’s basement back on the monitors and stared at them. What had I missed?
Was there any information, any indication who the dangerous man was? Had I missed any mention of her aliases? I clicked on one of the photos and methodically started going through them. I didn’t know how long it would take me to analyse all this information. I barely heard Francine promising Manny she’d get all the dirt on Élodie and Janine, and the ensuing banter.
“Jen-girl, get your butt over here.” Vinnie stood next to the round table and shook his index finger at the coffee and cookies in the centre of the table. “I didn’t make you fresh coffee for it to get cold.”
I glanced at the clock on my computer. I’d lost myself in the photos for more than four hours. It had been longer than that since I’d eaten and the thought of refreshments made my stomach rumble. I got up and walked to the table. Everyone else was already seated and Manny was sipping his milky tea. He appeared to be in slightly better humour.
“Can anyone tell me how this new information helps us understand what happened to Adèle and the other victims?” Manny put his mug on the table and took another cookie from the heaped plate. Vinnie’s oat cookies were my favourites.
“Well, I’m having one hell of a time trying to get anything on Élodie and Janine. Adèle hid those two aliases as well as she hid her sister.” Francine lifted her tablet. “So far, I managed to get their national IDs. They’re both registered residents of Strasbourg with a really good backstory. Whoever sold Adèle the IDs did a great job. Élodie is self-employed as a manicurist and earns just enough to survive, as per her tax returns. I am yet to find a bank account.”
“But that’s where we’ll see a shit-ton of money.” Vinnie pushed a cookie into his mouth.
“Most likely.” Francine’s frustration at her lack of significant progress was evident. “Janine is a virtual assistant who works freelance for entrepreneurs.”
“Both professions hard to trace,” Colin said. “Did you ask Da—”
“No, Mister Smarty-pants.” Francine rolled her eyes. “I actually asked Pink to dig deep to give me anything he could on these two. I’ve also been snooping around Adèle’s business. She registered her online shop for selling cosmetics just like Claire told us. Everything the sister said was true, including the outrageous prices Adèle charged for the perfumes. A bottle of Armani perfume that usually retails for around a thousand euros goes for nine to twelve thousand euros on her online shop.”
“Bloody hell.” Manny jerked. “Who on God’s green earth would buy perfume for a thousand euros?”
Francine shrugged. “I do. And you told me last night...”
“Enough!” Manny glared as Francine giggled.
Colin shook his head at them. “It’s such a simple, but elegant plan. Adèle didn’t even need to launder her money after the fact. These sales were all legit.”
“And she paid her taxes,” Francine said. “She had a successful online business that wouldn’t attract too much attention. I don’t know if her accountant was in on this as well, but it wouldn’t have been too difficult to keep him or her in the dark. Everyone would just have thought that Adèle was crazy selling perfumes at such prices and her customers even more insane paying those prices.”
“What about her web traffic?” Colin asked.
“Minimal.” Francine shrugged. “That’s no surprise. She didn’t advertise anywhere and no one in their right minds would spend time on this site with these prices. Not if they were really shopping for perfume. I must admit that I’m surprised her website isn’t on the dark web. Here, we can trace traffic and the IP addresses of people who visited her site.”
“What I would like to know is where Iran comes in.” Vinnie leaned back in his chair. “I mean, I know that Adèle got the wine from Iran and the wine had the heroin, but who is her connection in Iran?”
“And is this only about drugs?” Colin raised his index finger. “Not that I’m saying drugs aren’t bad enough. But is this a security threat? We all know that Iran has all kinds of nuclear issues with the world.”
“Holy hell.” Manny looked at me. “Found anything new in those photos, Doc?”
“A lot, but I’m not willing to speculate.” I wasn’t. I needed more time. It felt like there were small streams of water in my brain and they were about to converge into a river. I was waiting for that moment when all the seemingly disconnected elements flowed into a motivation for these crimes.
“Dan and I checked the security cameras in Jace’s building.” Vinnie straightened when we all looked at him. “We used the metadata...” He sighed when Francine faked a coughing fit. “Franny helped us by giving the metadata from Jace’s smart glasses. We used the timestamps to search for anything or anyone suspicious on the security feeds, but nothing.”
“So he came up through the basement like we thought,” Colin said.
Francine turned the conversation to outrageous theories and I lost interest. I got up and returned to my viewing room. Something about the photos was niggling in the back of my head. I sat down and cleared the monitors. I’d been through all the photos the crime scene technicians had taken of the house.
It was the photos of the organisational chart that had my interest. There was a lot to study and try to understand. I opened the photos of her chart on my monitors. A photo of the wine bottle in Adèle’s basement was in a prominent place next to the chart photos and deserved attention, but first I needed to understand the code Adèle had used when making her chart.
I adjusted my keyboard so it was perfectly aligned to the edge of my desk and narrowed my eyes at the monitors. After all the distractions yesterday and this morning, I was pleased to return to the chart. I zoomed in on the photos of the other wine bottles Adèle had pinned next to the chart.
“What do you make of the labels?” Colin was sitting next to me. Every now and then he entered a search for something on his laptop, but so far neither of us had uncovered any significant information.
I zoomed in even more on the bottles. “The resolution is not good enough to see the detail of the labels.” I turned to him. “The label on the bottle we found in her house had a watermark. I can’t see if there’s a watermark on these bottles.”
“Huh.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “I didn’t think much of the watermark. Do you think there’s something to it?” He looked at me and smiled. “Don’t answer that. I know we’ll have to see the bottles to determine that.”
I looked at the photos on the monitor next to the wine bottles and zoomed in on the photo with the best quality. The mystery man Adèle had secretly photographed in a few places was standing at a pedestrian crossing talking on his phone. It was summer and he was wearing a fitted black shirt hanging over tailored khaki trousers.
His bearing was that of a confident man, his spine straight, his shoulders back. My eyes were drawn to his hand holding the phone to his ear. Stretching from his wrist and disappearing between his middle and ring finger was a birthmark. The brown colour of the oval-shaped mark blended in well with his skin. None of the photos gave an indication of his race, so his tanned skin could be from the sun or heritage.
I shook my head in frustration and moved my attention to the monitor next to the photos of the man. These were the handwritten notes that appeared to be receipts of some kind. As I zoomed in, the elevator opened and Daniel walked into the team room, nodded at Manny and joined him at his desk.
; Vinnie walked into my viewing room and sat down in the chair on my other side. The chair Manny usually occupied. “Whaddup?”
“Bored?” Colin asked.
“Nope.” He stretched out his legs and crossed his feet at the ankles. “You two just looked like you need my expertise.” He ignored Colin’s snort and looked at the monitors. “What are we looking at?”
“Photos of the chart in Adèle’s basement.”
“Ah.” He frowned and pointed at the monitor with the handwritten slips. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know.” And it was most vexing. “These appear to be receipts, but it’s not clear for what.”
I zoomed in on the top receipt until it filled the monitor. There was only one word. The rest were numbers. The four numbers at the top of the receipt could easily indicate a date—day and month. Below that a word was written in Arabic. The handwriting was strong and slanted to the right. I was confident that a man had written these notes. Under the word were two strings of numbers. There was no punctuation separating the numbers to indicate whether these were phone numbers, IP addresses, GPS co-ordinates or something else.
“Well, fuck me.” Vinnie’s soft curse took my attention away from the monitor. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyebrows were high on his forehead and a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I know what this is.”
“Then don’t play games.” Manny walked into my room and glared at Vinnie. “Tell us what this is.”
Vinnie turned his back on Manny to face me. “These are Hassan’s hawala slips.”
Chapter NINE
“WHO’S HASSAN AND WHAT the hell is lalala?”
Colin shook his head and looked at Manny. “Hawala is a very old manner of transferring cash. It started as far back as the eighth century between Arabic and Muslim traders as protection against theft. It’s an informal system operated by hawaladers—money brokers. And even though hawala follows Islamic traditions, its use is most definitely not limited to Muslims.”
