The Essence of Malice

by Ashley Weaver

  She nodded. “I saw him come out of the building very early one morning.” As Marie had intimated, very early in the morning did not seem to indicate a business call.

  “He came out with the woman who lives in the corner flat on the second floor, the one with the window box,” she said, indicating it with a nod of her head. “I have seen her tending the flowers in the window.”

  “You’re sure it was Helios Belanger?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. Very sure. I read all the society columns and have seen his picture many times. I was very surprised that he should come from the building so early in the morning, for I knew that he did not live there. He has a very grand house in the Faubourg Saint-Germain.”

  So far I could not argue with her logic. She seemed a clever girl, and everything she said stood to reason. I thought she was what might be called a credible witness.

  “And that was when I saw her come out behind him,” she said. “She was wearing a veil, but I recognized her just the same. She is very tall and thin, and I knew at once that it was she.”

  “She came out directly after he did?”

  “Yes. I thought it strange that he should be there, but when I saw that he was with a woman I understood.” She smiled as she said this, seeming to enjoy the hint of scandal in her words.

  “You’re certain they were together?”

  “They got into his car together,” she said. That seemed to settle it.

  “Was it a cab?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, madame. It was a private car. A long, shiny black car. Very elegant.”

  So Monsieur Belanger had apparently spent the night at the flat of a woman who was not his wife and left with her early the next morning. I wondered why he had made no effort to hide his appearance but she had chosen to wear a veil. It was also interesting that he had had his own car pick him up. Apparently, he had not tried very hard to hide his relationship with this woman.

  “When was this?”

  “Two or three weeks ago.”

  “I see. Well, you have been very helpful, Lucille.”

  I suddenly realized that I was very hungry. All I had had today was the coffee I had shared with Milo and Madame Nanette. I picked up the menu.

  As Lucille took my order, my eyes flickered back to the building across the street. Perhaps after I ate, I would pay a visit to the flat and see if there was some way that I could gain information about the mysterious woman who lived there.

  * * *

  THE BUILDING HAD a cool, dimly lit foyer with two lifts across from the front door. A lift operator stood beside them, looking rather unenthusiastic about his post.

  I walked across the less-than-immaculate floor and noticed that the paint on the walls was scuffed in places. It was not a bad place, really, but I had definitely seen better. I somehow thought that if the woman Lucille had seen with Helios Belanger was involved with him, she was not a long-term mistress. Though my knowledge of such things was admittedly limited, I did not believe this was the sort of flat in which an extremely wealthy man would house his lover. At least, it certainly was not the sort of flat I would expect if I were a rich man’s inamorata.

  Though I very much wanted to talk to the woman in question, I had not yet come up with a method of doing so. The lift operator seemed an ideal place to start. He would, after all, have firsthand knowledge of the people coming and going from the building.

  I approached him. “Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon, madame,” he replied without enthusiasm. “What floor?”

  “I don’t wish to go up just now,” I said. “I wanted to ask you about a woman who lives here.”

  “What is her name?”

  I hesitated. I had been afraid that he would ask me that. “Well, that’s another thing,” I said. “I don’t know exactly what name she might be using.”

  If this was surprising to the man, he did not show it. “What does she look like?”

  I realized how very poorly planned this venture had been. The woman had, according to Lucille’s description, been heavily veiled. I didn’t even know what color her hair might be, let alone what she looked like.

  I leaned forward conspiratorially, hoping to avoid answering any questions. “I think she may be involved with a wealthy gentleman. He comes to visit her here sometimes.”

  I was careful not to say the name of Helios Belanger. For one thing, it was just possible that there was no scandal here, and I didn’t want to start one needlessly. For another, it was likely that the lift operator did not know the gentleman’s name, and it would be useful to be as vague as possible.

  This seemed to do the trick, for recognition came into his eyes. “Ah, yes. I know the lady you mean. Mademoiselle Yvonne. She lives on the second floor,” he said. I felt my spirits rise only to be crushed by his next words. “But you won’t find her in. She left town two days ago.”

  “Left town? Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I helped her bring her bags to a big black car waiting on the corner.”

  I wondered if she had gone for good. It seemed very strange to me that she should have vacated her flat. It was another mysterious disappearance that coincided with Helios Belanger’s death.

  I tipped the lift operator and made my way back out into the warm afternoon sun. I had come away from this venture with more questions than answers, but I felt somehow that I was on the right track.

  * * *

  I WAS NOT surprised to find that Milo had not returned by the time I arrived back at the hotel. Winnelda had returned, however, and was eager to tell me about her adventures the previous night.

  “We went to La Nuit Noire, and it was ever so scandalous, madam. The costumes they wore left very little to the imagination, and I have never seen such dancing. There was a dancer called Lorenza who learned to dance in a sheik’s harem.”

  “Did she indeed?”

  “Yes, she traveled the world learning all manner of dance, but it was the harem ladies who taught her best. Trudy says that it would be ever so romantic to live in a harem.”

  “Trudy?” I asked, a bit confused.

  “My friend who is the maid for the other English lady.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “Trudy says she may run away someday and hopes she ends up in a harem.”

  I wondered a bit about the suitability of Winnelda’s new friend, but then I was Winnelda’s employer, not her mother.

  “I don’t think you should like harem life,” I ventured.

  She shook her head, a bit mournfully it seemed. “No, madam. I don’t think I should like the food over there.”

  I let it go at that, and, in light of her extreme enthusiasm, sent her off again to see what other excitement was to be had.

  There was no call from Milo and no message at the desk when dinnertime arrived, so I had dinner in the hotel dining room. Afterward, I went to the cinema and watched a film. Or tried to watch it. My mind was much too preoccupied to pay close attention.

  I had pondered all day what I should do about the woman living in the flat across from the café. If it was true that she had left Paris, I found it doubtful that there would be any way for me to contact her. What was more, it was entirely possible that she played no part in the grand scheme of things. Even if she was Helios Belanger’s mistress, her leaving town immediately after his death was not necessarily suspicious. Perhaps she had wanted to get away, find time to face her grief. Such things were not uncommon.

  Besides, the fact remained that we did not even know for certain that Helios Belanger had been murdered. This nagging doubt continued to plague me. What did we really know? All we had for certain were Madame Nanette’s suspicion, the questionable behavior of his family members, and a misplaced formula. None of these things were proof positive, and unless we had such proof we were going to have a very difficult time indeed doing anything.

  Feeling rather unhopeful, I returned to the hotel.

  I had not left word for Milo, a
nd I half hoped that he would be in our room waiting and worrying for me when I arrived back. I should have known better. The room was dark.

  I switched on the light and removed my coat, dropping it on the chair near the door. Then I went to the telephone and called down to the desk. “Were there any messages left for me?”

  “No, madame.”

  I set the telephone on the receiver, tamping down my annoyance.

  It was not unlike Milo to have forgotten to ring me. In fact, it was rather typical. I could not help but feel, however, that now was an extremely inopportune time for him to revert to typical behavior.

  * * *

  I WAS AWAKENED sometime in the middle of the night as the door to the bedroom opened. I was not a particularly light sleeper, but I think some part of me had been listening for my husband’s return.

  “Milo?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure.”

  I sat up, squinting to see him in the dark and was surprised to be hit with a rather strong smell of alcohol. “Are you drunk?” I asked. He had never come home drunk before.

  “Certainly not. You know that I’ve long held gambling and drinking to be an exceedingly poor mix.” He didn’t sound drunk, and I knew it was true that he took his gaming rather seriously.

  “You smell as though you’ve taken a bath in it.”

  “An unfortunate side effect of a rather exuberant young crowd at this particular nightclub. A young woman lost her footing and spilled the contents of her glass. I expect Parks will be most put out with me.”

  I switched on the lamp near the bed and looked at the clock. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning. It was definitely not the first time that he had come home at such an hour, but I found it particularly annoying that he had disappeared for almost an entire night when I had very much been wanting to discuss what I had learned with him.

  “You must have had a very successful evening,” I said, not bothering to hide my irritation.

  “It was, in fact, a rather dull evening,” he said as he undressed, either oblivious to my displeasure or purposefully ignoring it. Probably the latter. “But I have some news that may interest you.”

  “Perhaps you may tell me about it at a more decent hour,” I said. “You need a bath, and I think I shall go back to sleep.”

  “Sleep if you must, darling, but I’m certain you shall be very interested in what I have to say.”

  With that he went off to the bathroom and began to run a bath. I switched off the light and lay down again, staring at the dark ceiling.

  I didn’t begrudge my husband his bit of fun on his own. After all, we had been in each other’s constant company for the past month in Italy, and I had never been the type of woman who expected her husband to remain at her beck and call. In fact, for the first five years of our marriage I had been extraordinarily broad-minded when it came to my expectations for Milo’s involvement in our relationship.

  What I did resent, however, was the lack of communication when it came to the matter of Helios Belanger. He had introduced me to this mystery, but it seemed that he was determined to investigate it on his own.

  Then again, I didn’t see what type of useful information he could have gleaned in a raucous nightclub. He was very clever, and it was just possible that he had learned something important, but I wanted very much to doubt it.

  Naturally, I was still awake when he came out. I would have liked nothing better than to have fallen back into a restful sleep in his absence, but my curiosity got the better of me.

  As he came out of the bathroom, I switched the light back on and sat up again.

  “Ah, so you didn’t fall asleep,” he said.

  “You knew I wouldn’t,” I retorted, annoyed. “What did you learn?”

  “You said we needed to discover more about Helios Belanger’s death. Well, I may have accomplished just that.”

  He had my full attention now. It was just the thing that I had been contemplating earlier this evening, our lack of actual evidence. Was it possible that he had been able to discover something?

  He was rubbing his hair dry with a towel and seemed in no hurry to share what he had learned. I was fairly certain he was doing it to annoy me. If so, he was succeeding.

  “Well?” I demanded. “Go on.”

  “Always so eager,” he said with a smile. He tossed the towel aside and came toward my side of the bed. He took a seat on the edge near me.

  “At the nightclub, I had a conversation with one of the medical staff who was at the morgue when they brought in Helios Belanger’s body.”

  “How did you manage that?” I asked. If it had been anyone but Milo I might have been incredulous that they had accomplished this feat. Knowing my husband as I did, I did not find it at all surprising that he had been able to not only locate such a person but manage to talk to him.

  “It’s not important,” he said. “This gentleman, René, after I had treated him to several drinks, became very friendly and eager to talk. He said that the body was brought in and that the coroner who examined him said he exhibited many symptoms of heart failure.”

  I found this highly dissatisfying. We were looking for signs of murder.

  “Helios Belanger’s own doctor was also summoned,” Milo continued. “My friend René said the doctor intimated that Belanger had no history of heart trouble, but he did not seem particularly troubled by the death. These things can happen suddenly, he said, and though Monsieur Belanger always had been extremely healthy, the heart is an unpredictable thing.”

  “Was any sort of postmortem done?” I asked.

  “I gather there were some external signs that seemed to live up to what they expect from people who die of heart attacks, mottled skin and bluing of the fingertips and lips or some such thing.”

  “That sounds as though it could also be poison,” I said. “They didn’t … examine him internally.”

  “No,” he said. “It seems rather as though they took one look at him and decided his death appeared natural. In fact, his doctor recommended against a postmortem.”

  “That seems unusual.”

  Milo shrugged. “He did not want to cause further grief to the family. It’s not so unusual.”

  “So if they were to look for poison or some such thing, they would have to exhume him,” I said. “It doesn’t seem very likely that the police would agree to that without some sort of definite proof.”

  “No,” Milo agreed. “And that’s not likely to happen when his own doctor believes he died of natural causes.”

  “How very frustrating this all is,” I said.

  “Darling, have you considered that perhaps we have our answer?”

  I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “He was an old man known to have a high temper, and he was recently ill. It’s entirely possible that he suffered a heart attack, especially given the recent close call he had in his aeroplane. Perhaps the simplest explanation is the true one.”

  His words surprised me. “Do you really think that?”

  “I’m beginning to wonder.”

  For some reason, I found it difficult to believe. What was more, I was not certain that Milo really believed it himself.

  “I wish we could find a way to talk to the nurse they hired for him,” I said. “She might be able to tell us if his first illness was suspicious.”

  Something like exasperation crossed his expression. “Or perhaps he was simply an ill older man whose life had run its course. You know, darling, you’re positively ghoulish, hoping with all your heart that it is, in fact, a murder.”

  “No such thing,” I protested. “But if it was a murder, we don’t want a killer to go free.”

  “Well, I suppose I’ve done my part for the evening.”

  “Yes. But you might have rung me,” I said, lest he think that I approved of his independen
t endeavors.

  “It was a very tedious night, all told. You can believe me, darling. I would much rather have been here with you.”

  I did not believe this for one moment. Try though he might to deny it, I had no doubt that Milo had enjoyed every moment of his evening. Old habits die hard, and I knew that the pull of his favorite amusements was strong. I was still a bit irritated with him for waking me up in the middle of the night, but, as he had acquired such useful information, it was difficult for me to remain cross with him.

  “So we have a nurse whose whereabouts we do not know and a mysterious woman who may have been involved with Helios Belanger.”

  “You located your mystery woman, did you?”

  “Not exactly.” I quickly related to Milo the events of my day. “And so she has disappeared.”

  “Cherche la femme seems to be the theme of the evening,” he said.

  “Yes, it’s all most troublesome.”

  “Don’t you think we might dispense with thinking of it, at least until the sun comes up?” he asked. He leaned forward, his arms on either side of me on the bed. He smelled of soap now rather than stale alcohol, and a lock of his damp hair brushed my forehead as he bent to kiss me.

  “Yes, Milo, you’re right,” I replied after a moment. I reached up to sweep the strand of hair back from his face. “It’s dreadfully early. I am going back to sleep.”

  “Minx,” he said. He dropped another kiss on my lips and then rose, going around to his side of the bed.

  “I do feel as though we’ve made some progress today,” I said, attempting to be optimistic.

  “I told you not to fret,” he replied as he pulled back the covers and slid into bed beside me.

  My mind played over the events of the day. We had discovered several interesting leads that might bring us to significant evidence if we followed them.

  Despite Milo’s efforts to convince me otherwise, I still believed that Helios Belanger’s death had not been due to natural causes.

  “It does seem as though there are a great many people who might have had a motive to kill Helios Belanger,” I said aloud. “And if we can seize upon the culprit and find proof, perhaps the police might be willing to reexamine his death. Don’t you think?”