The Essence of Malice

by Ashley Weaver

  As far as appearances went, how much of Beryl Belanger’s grief was genuine? She had been left quite a handsome sum. She was now a rich woman who could live independently. In addition, the child, Seraphine, had been left a good deal of money in trust. Beryl would never want for anything again. She and her child could go anywhere in the world and live quite comfortably for the rest of their lives. Had the temptation to do so been too great? I didn’t like to think she would kill her child’s father, but I could not rule it out.

  There was also the disgruntled sculptor, Herr Muller. He and Helios Belanger had been on bad terms, and Herr Muller had benefitted financially from the timing of Helios Belanger’s death. There were also my suspicions that he might be involved with Beryl Belanger. There was so much to consider.

  And what of the two players we had yet to meet: the mysterious woman who lived in the flat and had disappeared shortly before his death; and Angelique, Michel’s volatile former lover?

  I couldn’t do much about the woman who had left Paris, but there was always the chance that Angelique might tell me something. After all, Michel Belanger was at the top of my suspect list, and she might be willing to discuss some of his habits now that they had parted ways.

  As far as that went, there was no time like the present. I threw back the covers and rose to get dressed. Milo was being evasive and secretive, and it was time that I took matters into my own hands.

  22

  I DRESSED AND freshened up my makeup, warming to the idea of my mission. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that Angelique would be able to tell me something important.

  I had picked up my handbag and was prepared to leave when Winnelda came into the room.

  “Good evening, madam. I just thought I would stop in to see if you needed anything.”

  “No, thank you, Winnelda. I’m about to go out.”

  I went out into the hall and she came with me. There was a pretty dark-haired girl standing outside, apparently waiting for her.

  “This is my friend, Trudy,” Winnelda said.

  Trudy bobbed a little curtsey. “Good evening, madam.”

  “Good evening, Trudy. It’s nice to meet you. Winnelda has told me you’ve been having a lovely time exploring Paris.”

  “Yes, madam,” she said.

  “We met two very handsome gentlemen who want to take us to a jazz club. Isn’t it thrilling?” Winnelda enthused.

  “Yes,” I said, “but do be careful.”

  “Yes, madam.” Winnelda suddenly seemed to consider something. “Are you going out alone, madam?”

  “Yes, Mr. Ames had some business to attend to.”

  “You can come with us, if you like,” she said.

  Trudy nodded agreement. “It’s a very nice club. The music is wonderful. And there will be many handsome gentlemen.”

  “She’s a married lady,” Winnelda said, affronted.

  Trudy shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to look.”

  “That’s very sweet of you to offer,” I said, breaking in before a disagreement could develop, “but I’m going to La Reine Bleue.”

  Trudy looked me over before saying hesitantly, “I beg your pardon, madam. But are you going to wear that?”

  I looked down at what I was wearing. It was a very modish gown of dark green silk, and I could think of no reason why Trudy should disapprove of it.

  “Is there something wrong with this?” I asked.

  “Oh no,” she said quickly. “That is, it’s a very nice gown, madam. But you’re sure to stick out in something like that. It’s a bit too proper, if you catch my meaning.”

  I did indeed. For the space of a moment, I pondered the problem. If my gown was not what ladies wore to cabarets, I might make myself conspicuous. What was more, I might not be able to speak to Angelique if I appeared to be, as Trudy had phrased it, “too proper.”

  I looked at Trudy. She was just about my size. “Do you happen to have anything suitable you could lend me?” I asked.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER found me entering La Reine Bleue in a black-beaded gown with a scandalously plunging neckline and a low-cut back. Trudy had very much warmed to her role as my makeshift stylist, and she and Winnelda had done my makeup, applying a good deal more of it than I would usually wear. Sultriness was not something I had ever managed to achieve, but I felt I gave a fair imitation of it tonight.

  The cabaret was in a building that looked somewhat the worse for wear, but it seemed the outward appearance did not discourage its customers in the least. There were a great many people coming and going beneath the glow of the lighted sign above the building, and the building seemed full to capacity.

  I made my way through the dense crowd and requested a seat near the wall, hoping to remain inconspicuous. Not that there was much chance I would attract attention. There were a great many women here who were more eye-catching than I.

  The waiter came to my table. “Good evening, mademoiselle. What is it that you would like?”

  “I’m looking for Angelique.”

  He smiled. “Yes, most people come here for Angelique. You are in luck. She is due to perform next.”

  “Thank you.”

  I ordered a cup of coffee, which seemed to amuse the waiter, and settled into my seat to wait. A moment later she walked out onto the floor and into the glow of a spotlight that cut through the smoky darkness.

  When I saw her, I’m rather afraid I blushed. She wore only what appeared to be a long, strategically draped strand of diamonds. They glittered brightly in the light, and a cheer went up from the crowd.

  She smiled, tossing her head, and began to sing in a low, pleasant voice.

  Further description is beyond me, for I have never seen anything quite like Angelique’s performance. The dance routine proved her to be quite flexible. Suffice it to say, angelic was not the word that came to mind.

  She had finished her song and was met with a roar of applause when the waiter brought my coffee and nodded toward the stage. “Did you enjoy the show, mademoiselle?”

  “Yes, she was … very dramatic. I wonder, would it be possible for me to speak to her?”

  He laughed. “Everyone wants to speak to Angelique. She comes out onto the floor sometimes when she has finished her routine. Perhaps you may have a chance to speak to her then. She usually comes out there,” he said, nodding in the direction of a door that I assumed led to the dressing rooms. “Though it may be some time before she comes out.”

  It didn’t matter how long it took. I would wait.

  I skirted the dance floor, which had become particularly lively following Angelique’s performance, and worked my way toward the door. I hoped I could stand outside and have a chance to approach her before anyone else did.

  I had almost reached the door when I moved too quickly and bumped directly into a man.

  “Pardon, monsieur…” I looked up just then into Milo’s eyes. I felt a flicker of surprise followed by pure annoyance.

  “Enchanté, madame,” he said dryly. If he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him, he didn’t show it.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “I might ask you the same question.”

  I felt disinclined to answer him, but I supposed that now that he had seen me there was no reason to keep things quiet.

  “I’ve come to speak to Angelique,” I said.

  “So have I,” he replied.

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “You didn’t tell me either,” he replied, his eyes moving over me. “I must say, you look rather fetching in that ensemble. You haven’t worn that dress before. I would have remembered.”

  “Never mind that,” I said. “I’m extremely annoyed with you.”

  “I don’t see why you should be. I told you something had come up.”

  “You didn’t tell me you had come to watch Angelique prance about practically in the nude. I suppose you enjoyed her performance immensely.”

  “I
did,” he replied. “Do you suppose you could ask her to teach you how she did that last dance…?”

  Luckily for Milo, I was distracted by something behind him before he could finish his sentence.

  “Milo,” I hissed, cutting him off. “Did you see who else is here tonight?”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Jens Muller.”

  “Is he?” Milo said. “It’s not really surprising, I suppose, that he should come to see his muse.”

  “Yes,” I said. “But perhaps we can learn something from him about his relationship with Beryl Belanger.”

  “Perhaps. You go and talk to him, and I’ll talk to Angelique.”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “Divide and conquer, that was our plan,” he replied with a smile.

  Somehow I didn’t fancy the idea of my husband conquering Angelique. Nevertheless, I supposed the idea had merit. Though I hated to admit it, Milo probably had a better chance with Angelique than I did. When she came into this room, it certainly wasn’t going to be me to whom she was drawn.

  I walked toward where Herr Muller sat. He was alone at a table, though I had half expected him to be in the company of a model or two. He looked up when he saw me, though he didn’t seem particularly surprised.

  “Good evening, Madame Ames,” he said, rising from his seat. “Are you here alone?”

  “No,” I said. “My husband is somewhere about, but he has so many friends that I sometimes lose track of him.”

  I glanced in Milo’s direction. Almost as though he had been trying to prove my point, he was no longer alone. There were two women seated at the table with him, neither of whom were Angelique, and they all appeared to be getting on famously.

  I fought down my annoyance. Try as I might to pretend otherwise, Milo’s effortless magnetism was sometimes a source of great vexation to me.

  Herr Muller’s gaze followed mine before coming back to search me speculatively, and I supposed he must think me a very obliging wife. “Would you like to sit with me for a while?”

  “Thank you, that would be very nice.”

  He pulled out the chair for me and I sat. I saw his gaze drop from my face to my bodice, and for a moment I wished that I had not let Trudy talk me into wearing something quite so revealing.

  “Can I offer you a drink?” he asked. “A cigarette?”

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  He lit one for himself then and drew a deep breath before observing: “You do not seem, if I may say so, to be much enjoying yourself. I don’t think this type of place suits you.”

  I smiled. “I don’t like to let my husband out alone.”

  He chuckled. “I would think he would not like to let you out alone either,” he replied, taking another thorough look at my décolletage.

  I decided it was time to change the subject. “You came to see Angelique.”

  “Yes, she fascinates me.”

  “She is very fascinating,” I agreed.

  “Her body, I find it mesmerizing.”

  I supposed it had mesmerized a great many people this evening.

  “It seems everyone was taken with her but Helios Belanger,” I said lightly.

  This comment had the desired reaction. “That man did not know good from bad,” he said heatedly.

  “What was it that caused the rift in your friendship?” I asked. I did not think it likely that he would confide in me if he was having an affair with Beryl Belanger, but one never knew. People had confided strange things in me before.

  “He had grown paranoid. He was convinced that someone was trying to sabotage him, to steal his secrets.”

  I thought of the missing formula. It seemed that Helios Belanger might have been right.

  “Do you think it was possible?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Nor do I care. I want to avoid all mention of him from this point on.”

  “I thought I saw you yesterday, in the Jardin du Luxembourg,” I said, hoping to get to the matter of Beryl Belanger.

  “Yes,” he admitted readily. “I was walking there, but left because I saw Madame Belanger and did not wish to speak with her. I am through with the Belangers.”

  So this was why he had avoided Beryl Belanger. It seemed, then, that he was not her lover. He might be lying, of course, but somehow I didn’t think so. I had never quite been able to picture the two of them in a passionate affair.

  “‘I am being destroyed from the inside,’ he said to me one day,” he went on, apparently not quite through with the Belangers. “I think he believed that someone was plotting against him, but did not know who to blame. So he blamed me. I tell you, from anyone else I would not have tolerated it. I only put up with it at first because I believed his illness had made him irritable.”

  This was a conversational opening I had not expected, and I took advantage of it. “Yes,” I said. “I heard he was ill, that he had hired a nurse.”

  “A fine woman she was, too,” he said. “I noticed her at once. She had a wonderful figure.”

  “What type of illness was it?” I asked, hoping at last to have the answer to this lingering question.

  He shrugged. “That I do not know. I do not concern myself with illness.”

  It seemed that his observational powers had been otherwise engaged.

  His next words, however, proved to be of great interest.

  “I would have liked the nurse to model for me, but she was not interested in such things,” he went on. “I do not know what became of her. Perhaps she went home. She was from Beauvais, I think.”

  I stilled. Beauvais. That was where Milo had gone on the train. Had he gone to see the nurse? I could think of no other reason why he might have gone there.

  I rose abruptly from my seat. “I’m sorry, Herr Muller, but I must be getting back to my husband. It was very nice to see you again.”

  “And you, madame,” he said. I hated to appear rude, but his gaze had already traveled to the woman who had taken the stage, a shapely redhead attired only in feathers, and I knew he would not miss my company.

  I made my way back toward Milo’s table, ready to confront him on the matter of the nurse. It was then that I saw that he was no longer seated with the two young women. I could tell by their annoyed glances, however, in which direction he had gone. My eyes followed their gaze, and I found him standing with Angelique. I was not really surprised at his quick success in capturing her attention. After all, he had never had to do much seeking where women were concerned; they were drawn to him naturally.

  I might have left him alone to learn what he could, but then she leaned into him, saying something into his ear, and I decided that it might be best if I made my presence known to her.

  I walked to where they stood and Milo looked over at me.

  “Ah, darling, there you are. This is Angelique.”

  I turned to the woman at his side. She was tall and very thin, her graceful body draped in a red satin gown with a neckline that plunged nearly to her navel. Her hair was cut in a sleek, black bob, and dark makeup lined glittering green eyes. She was quite stunning, and I distrusted her instinctively.

  “How do you do?” I said.

  She was looking me over as I had done her, and she was in no rush about it. Finally, her eyes came back up to mine. The corner of her mouth tipped up in a languid smile.

  “I think I know why you are here.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes hard, despite the carelessness of her tone. “And you have nothing to fear from me. I don’t want him.”

  “I … I beg your pardon?”

  “You are one of Michel’s lovers, are you not?” she asked. “His newest, perhaps?”

  I ought to have been surprised by the question, but, having met Michel Belanger, I could see how she might make that assumption. Perhaps she thought I was the diplomat’s wife with whom Michel had recently been connected.

  “No,” I said quickly and indicated Milo. “I’m his wife.”<
br />
  She laughed, a throaty sound. “That has never stopped Michel.” Her gaze moved to Milo. “But I suppose this one is man enough for any woman, eh? He looks as though he knows his way around a bedroom in the dark.”

  She smiled at my husband and he smiled back.

  I cleared my throat. “I have come to you because I believe you know Michel better than anyone else.”

  Reluctantly, her eyes came back to me. She hesitated. “What do you want to know?”

  I hadn’t expected her to ask this question, and I was unprepared to answer it. Should I tell her the truth? What if she was still friendly with Michel Belanger and let him know that we had been asking questions?

  I was trying to think of the best way in which to couch my questions about Michel Belanger when Milo decided to take matters into his own hands.

  “The truth of the matter is that my wife has had a very brief affair with Michel Belanger,” Milo said.

  My mouth nearly fell open, but I managed to keep my lips together. He had better have a good reason for this.

  Angelique’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at this bit of information. It seemed that, despite what she had told me, she still felt something for Michel.

  “I told her we would overlook the matter, but she has some concerns,” Milo went on.

  “You are more forgiving than most husbands,” she told Milo.

  “She has realized the error of Michel’s ways,” Milo said.

  Again, that cynical smiled flickered over her lips. “Yes. Michel is a difficult man to resist.”

  “That isn’t the full story,” I said, unable to allow him to continue to malign my character. “You haven’t told her what you did to provoke me into that episode.”

  Milo’s brow rose ever so slightly in what I took to be a challenge. I accepted it.

  I turned to her. “He had been carrying on behind my back, keeping secrets from me. And what is worse, he gave me a pet monkey, expecting that would make everything all right.”

  She gave me what I think was supposed to be a sympathetic look. “Men, they are all the same. They think that we will forgive them anything if they lay gifts at our feet.”