The Devarres exchanged glances.
“A man of surprising physical strength, this McTell,” Bergerac said.
“Suppose,” Melusine said, “it could be shown that there was an influence upon him that caused his actions.”
“What sort of influence, madame?” Bergerac’s eyes were cynical rather than interested.
“A possessing spirit.”
Bergerac dragged on the cigarette, flicked the ash on the floor, gazed around the room. “I presume you are suggesting something of a supernatural nature. I myself have never seen evidence of any such thing. Do you have any?”
He paused. Neither spoke. Waiting for the police to arrive, they had scanned the papers on McTell’s desk. At Melusine’s insistence, Devarre had hidden them in the Citroen’s trunk.
“Only rumors,” she finally murmured. “There was suspicion in the village that he was dabbling in the occult.”
“Eh bien,” Bergerac said, sounding resigned. “The events do seem to have been of a ritualistic nature, particularly the presumed murder of the unfortunate young woman. If this man McTell was in fact a believer in the supernatural, it may well have nurtured his madness. I have no experience with such things, but I have many times seen situations when a crime might not have occurred if something—a weapon, an occasion—had not presented itself. A young man with no money passes an unlocked vehicle with an expensive camera on the seat. In a passionate argument, someone lays hands upon a heavy lamp or a knife. Or perhaps something as simple as a chance remark plants a seed of blackmail or revenge. I do not discount circumstances lending themselves to crime. But to go beyond that point—to speculate that possession may drive a man to murder—is something I cannot do.”
Melusine shook her head, remembering the terrified gaze of John McTell during the instant his body’s captor had allowed it to show through.
“Perhaps we will learn more about these occult dealings,” Bergerac went on, “and it will help us understand why McTell acted as he did. In the meantime, we are less concerned with his motives than with finding him. This, I assure you, we will do. He is on foot; he cannot get far.
“Madame, monsieur, I see no reason to keep you any longer tonight. You have been most helpful. If you would be so kind as to make yourselves available to come to the station tomorrow and issue formal statements of everything you remember, including these rumors of which you spoke—?” He snapped his fingers. A young policeman appeared. “Escort these good people to their car, and clear the drive for them.” Bergerac bowed as they were ushered out of the room.
They sat dully in the Citroen, watching the flic direct the flashing vehicles aside. “You were right,” Devarre said. “There was no point in even bringing it up. God, what a useless fool I feel.”
“There was nothing more we could have done, not really. Even Etien didn’t understand until the very last. Perhaps those papers will tell us what he did not.” The unspoken tag hung in the air: and probably never will.
Devarre let the clutch out; the car crept forward. “How did you know to do that? To kiss that—poor woman?
The policeman saluted as they turned onto the road. They waved wearily. “I had help,” she murmured. “I’ll explain someday.”
“One thing I can promise you,” he said quietly: “Never again will I doubt your word about anything of this sort.” She leaned against him, and with his arm around her, Devarre drove slowly home.
Behind them, the gathering mistral sent leaves skittering across the concrete patio, coyering the murky swimming pool like a blanket of decay.
CHAPTER 18
It was fitting, Melusine thought, that the nursing hospital for the clergy—old priests’ home, her husband cynically persisted in calling it—should be in slummy Marseille, in a great stone building of cheerless gray that could easily have been mistaken for a prison. It sat on a bluff overlooking the Mediterranean, but even that one redeeming feature was small comfort on a day like this, with the sky and sea the same gray as the building, with the wind whipping the waves to the height of a house and cutting like an icy blade through her coat. A white-coiffed nun at the desk checked the appointment calendar. Yes, they were expected. Monsieur Boudrie would be brought down in a few minutes, if they would care to take a seat . . .
They stood in the bleak lobby, empty except for an occasional Sister moving with mouselike silence across the floor. A few tables held stacks of out-of-date religious publications. Devarre’s footfalls echoed strangely as he paced the room.
The police had found no trace of either McTell or Alysse. The trail was long since cold.
A pair of swinging doors opened; the black habit of a nun appeared, backing through. She turned, wheeling the chair she pushed. Her face was red from exertion.
He had shrunk, Melusine saw, and his face had relaxed a little from the terrible look it had carried. Now he only stared, unmoving and, by all appearances, unseeing.
“You may take him on the grounds if you wish,” the Sister said. “He’s dressed warmly. But be careful of the wind in his eyes; he can’t seem to close them. We have to put liquid in them frequently.”
Devarre pushed the chair while she held the doors. By tacit consent they walked toward the sea. On a little bluff they paused, turning Boudrie obliquely to the wind. Surf thundered against the rocks below; the wind whipped froth across them. In the harbor, the small white fishing boats vanished and reappeared, as if swallowed and spat out again by giant watery jaws.
Melusine took one of the priest’s hands in both her own and bent over him, searching his empty face. “What did you see, Etien Boudrie?” she said softly. “Will you never come back to tell us?”
Her grip tightened suddenly. For moments longer she stared, until her husband touched her shoulder.
She said nothing as they made their way back to the stark gray hospital. But her heart had already begun fanning into flame a faint spark of hope: that for the briefest of instants, as she had spoken Boudrie’s name, she had seen a bewildered awareness far back in his eyes.
Table of Contents
NEXT, AFTER LUCIFER
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
PART TWO
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
Next, After Lucifer Page 24
