‘Perhaps. He’s made an extraordinary claim – that your father not only procured boys for Nazi officers, but also chaired that damn tribunal. Apparently he told Jean-Pierre and Marie all about it too.’
‘Look – we can’t talk now.’ Gabriel was quite composed, not in the least flustered. ‘I’m in the middle of this appalling murder enquiry. Marie Leger looks as if she’s been savaged by some wild animal. Whoever it is is as mad as Didier. There can be no doubt about it.’ He sat down on the edge of an armchair. ‘You’ve come to confront me, Marius, haven’t you? And the reason you’re confronting me is because you haven’t got a shred of evidence. OK – Didier gets visited by the Jean-Pierre/Marie Leger duo and they were clearly up to no good. But as far as we can tell he told them nothing of any use or they’d have taken some sort of action.’
‘They’re both dead,’ said Marius baldly.
‘Yes, but they saw him weeks ago and they had plenty of time to take action. He may not have told them anything.’
‘But the murderer suspected he had. So you should put a security alert on Didier.’
‘I’m not a complete fool, Marius. As you probably know now, I’ve already been to see him once. I also checked on him again a few minutes ago. And I’ve sent a couple of men round to keep an eye on your mother. I suppose you’d left that to Estelle.’
‘What else could I do?’
Gabriel nodded.
‘I’m working in the dark, Gabriel. And you’ve kept me in the dark, deliberately.’
‘I’ve done what I can. Lebatre will probably put in an official complaint against me. But there are limits. Listen, Marius – I swear to you that Didier is wrong; my father was never a procurer of young boys nor was he a collaborator. He came into very little contact with the Nazis. All he was, was a quiet country doctor. That I swear.’
‘Didier says that you have opposed his discharge.’ Marius felt a fool directly he had made the statement.
Gabriel sighed. ‘His discharge is nothing to do with me; it’s up to the doctors. Look, Marius, all I can do is deny Didier’s allegations. He – you – can’t make a monster out of my father. Or out of me.’ He looked calmly, levelly, into Marius’ eyes. ‘I didn’t cut your father’s throat, nor Jean-Pierre’s nor Marie Leger’s. It’s true I had the opportunity. And the reason I was locked in such passionate conversation with Jean-Pierre Claude was that I was desperately trying to get out of him what he knew. And he knew something, but wasn’t giving anything away. That’s all I can say to you, Marius.’ He got up and took Marius’ arm. ‘Please believe me.’
But Marius didn’t know what to believe. Had he made a fool of himself? Was he right to confront Gabriel? ‘What level of cooperation can I expect now?’ he asked.
‘What I said before – as much as I can give you.’
‘Which wasn’t much.’
‘It’s all I can do,’ said Gabriel sharply. ‘I’ll get back to Lebatre; he’ll be wondering what we’re cooking up together.’
‘You want me off the premises?’
‘It would be advisable. I’ll ring you with any details I think you should know.’
Marius knew he was now dismissed.
‘Monsieur.’
‘Yes?’ asked Marius abruptly as he hurried to his car. Then he paused. It was Mireille Leger. She was very composed, very lifeless.
‘I’d like a word.’
‘I’m deeply sorry about what has happened.’ He spoke very softly.
‘Do you know who did this?’ Her voice was deliberately calm, entirely without expression.
‘No.’
‘Please don’t lie to me. Do you know who killed her?’
‘I tell you – I don’t know.’
‘Have you seen Didier?’
‘Yes, but I couldn’t trust anything he said. He’s mad – not responsible.’
‘You know my sister and Jean-Pierre went to see him?’
‘Yes.’
‘They had blackmail in mind.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘My sister was an impetuous, foolish woman. But she didn’t deserve to be butchered.’
‘Yes, it’s just a matter of time,’ replied Marius.
‘Before they kill again?’
‘Before they’re caught.’ He tried to be as reassuring as possible.
‘I find it incredible,’ she said. ‘It could be anyone. Someone I know very well – who all these years has had something to protect.’
‘Somebody to protect,’ corrected Marius. ‘But it could be a complete stranger,’ he concluded, taking her arm. It was very cold. ‘I think you should go back inside. You shouldn’t be wandering about out here.’
‘I’m going to Annette Valier’s.’
Behind them, the ambulance started up.
‘They’re taking her away.’ Her voice shook for the first time.
‘Yes,’ said Marius quietly. ‘They took my father. I didn’t want him to go.’
She nodded. ‘You’ll all make them pay, won’t you?’
Marius drove up to the Château Ste Michelle. It was a very clear night and the cicadas seemed particularly loud. The stars were brilliant, starkly etched in the black velvet of the sky. Marius felt secure as he drove through the open gates and up the well-kept drive. The lawns were as smooth and green as the sprinklers allowed, and there was some new sculpture over by the lacey sparkle of the fountains. He saw that it was a bronze statue of a girl, beautifully executed, staring down at the dashing water.
He brought the car to a standstill with a crunch on the gravel. Slamming the door he walked up the steps and rang the bell. It seemed a very long time before anyone came. Then he heard slow footsteps and Alain opened the door. He was wearing an open-necked shirt and dark trousers. Thank God, thought Marius. Someone I can really talk to at last.
‘Marius.’
‘Sorry to call so late.’
‘It’s good to see you.’
‘There’s been another one.’
Alain closed his eyes. ‘Who?’
‘Your sister – Marie.’
Alain turned away, looking grey and ill. He staggered and would have collapsed if Marius had not caught hold of him. He helped him back into the cool interior. There was a lingering smell of good food and coffee. Alain leant against him as they stumbled into the sitting room.
‘Thank you.’ He sat down heavily in the chair as the phone began to ring.
‘I’ll get it.’ Marius hurriedly picked up the receiver. It was Gabriel.
‘Marius. I thought you would be with Alain. Have you –’
‘I’ve told him.’
‘I’m ringing officially – but now I don’t need to speak to him. Do I?’
‘No.’
‘Lebatre will need to see him.’
‘Not tonight.’
‘He’ll ring tomorrow.’
‘Very well.’
‘OK Marius, I’ll be in touch.’
Marius put down the receiver and went to pour out a cognac. ‘Rodiet,’ he said.
‘Yes. Yes, of course. Do you want to ask me questions?’ asked Alain shakily.
‘No. I’m not on the case.’
‘Of course not. Silly of me – I keep forgetting.’
Marius told him briefly what had happened, beginning with his visit to Didier and ending with Marie Leger’s death and his challenge to Gabriel. He spoke eloquently, slowly. To keep talking seemed the best idea. Alain listened, nodding, occasionally clarifying, intently aware of all he was saying. The original shock seemed to be receding. When Marius had finished Alain said quietly:
‘As you say, Didier has little credibility to offer as a witness. I visit him sometimes. He was with us in the Maquis. Poor fellow – he’s just a shell now, quite unreliable.’
‘Yet Jean-Pierre and your sister went to see him.’
‘Yes.’ Alain was silent. He sipped more cognac. ‘And do you still believe that Gabriel killed to protect his beloved father?’
‘I don’t
know what to believe. There was something about Didier – however crazy he is – that was very convincing. Do you want to stop talking now?’
‘No,’ said Alain, draining his cognac. ‘I don’t. But neither do I wish to get drunk. I’d like to remain lucid. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and grope around, trying to think of the awful thing that happened that I can’t remember – and then remember.’
‘I know exactly what you mean.’
‘Henri – that peasant – Marie. What next? It’s unbelievable.’
‘Gabriel has agreed to give protection to my mother – and to Didier.’
‘That’s good. Unless –’
‘He is the killer,’ Marius finished. ‘But how could he come and go at will from a psychiatric unit?’
‘If there was only some way to substantiate what Didier says. Will you see him again?’
‘I shall try. But …’ Marius paused uneasily.
‘What is it?’
‘My mother. I’m almost certain she knows something, and I just have this feeling that some elements at least of her condition she is exaggerating.’
‘So – Henri did know something – that he was trying to conceal.’
‘They all did. I’m sure that’s what it all boils down to. In the end.’
They talked on, the hours creeping by, but came to no real conclusion.
‘Will you come and stay at Letoric?’ asked Marius finally.
‘No. I’ll be fine here.’
‘Shock can be very delayed.’
‘Yes. But I’d rather face whatever I have to here. Do you understand, Marius?’
‘Yes. I understand.’
Alain showed him out and they clasped hands. Then Marius embraced him and again the old man leant on him.
‘Now go home to your mother.’
‘I shall talk to her tomorrow. And then to Didier.’
‘I’ve no doubt I shall be seeing the police. And I should have rung Mireille. However estranged we are – I should at least have done that. I’m surprised she hasn’t rung me.’
‘She’s with Annette Valier.’
‘Very well. And Marius …’
‘Yes?’
‘I could come and visit Didier with you if you like. It might help with the authorities.’
‘I’ll ring you,’ said Marius as he walked out into the cool moonlight. As he got into the car he turned to look at Alain Leger. He was still standing at his front door, staring out. He looked old, defeated, and he stared up at the stars as if seeking solace. Then, slowly, he walked back inside and gently closed the door.
Marius arrived home at dawn to find a police car parked outside the house and a sleepy-looking officer huddled on the front step.
‘Would you like some coffee?’ Marius asked.
‘That would be nice, sir. Are you Monsieur Larche?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I have proof of identification, sir?’
Marius showed him his identity card. ‘OK?’
‘Thank you, Chief Inspector. We have to check everything very carefully at the moment.’
‘Of course. I’ll make some coffee.’
A few minutes later Marius came back with two cups of scalding black coffee and he and the policeman watched the dawn slowly come up in quiet companionship. Stretched below them, they could see part of St Esprit; a swathe of mist parted to reveal shuttered houses, still poplars lining silent streets and the church tower, indistinct and floating.
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it – he’s out there somewhere. Waiting.’
‘Why he?’
‘It must be a man.’
Marius smiled at the man’s sudden vehemence. ‘And we don’t even know the murderer’s out there. They could be miles away.’
‘I don’t reckon so, sir.’ He seemed very sure. ‘They feel local, don’t they?’
‘Do they? How do they feel local?’
‘They know people – I mean, there was hardly any sign of a struggle. Monsieur Larche and Monsieur Claude – and now Mademoiselle Leger.’
‘It’s true they went trustingly to their deaths. But it doesn’t necessarily mean they were lured out by someone they knew. I mean – maybe the murderer posed as an official. As a policeman.’
‘Maybe you’re right, sir.’
‘But you don’t really think so.’
‘I’m putting my bet on the local man.’
‘Grudge?’
‘Something they were going to bring to a head, sir, that’s why I reckon they were all done in.’ He paused, realising he was getting carried away and that he was talking about Marius’ father. ‘I’m sorry …’
‘No. Don’t be. You’ve made me think.’ Marius looked at his watch. It was six. ‘Think I’ll try for a couple of hours’ sleep. When are you going to be relieved?’
‘Half an hour or so.’
‘OK – thanks for coming.’
‘I hope I didn’t speak out of turn, sir.’
‘No,’ Marius reassured him. ‘I told you – you’ve made me think.’
*
It’s a small link I need, thought Marius as he lay awake watching the patch of sky turn blue through the small circular window in his bedroom. Just some small, connecting link – a detail. What had his father known? Did Jean-Pierre and Marie know the same thing? If so, why had they all kept so silent?
14
Marius rose at around eight and went straight in to see his mother. To his surprise she was sitting up in a chair by the bed, drinking coffee.
‘Where’s Estelle?’
‘She died.’
‘Mother –’
Estelle arrived with another jug of coffee. ‘She couldn’t sleep – and she keeps asking for coffee.’
‘I could do with some coffee,’ said Solange plaintively.
‘It’s here, my darling.’
‘I want to talk to her,’ began Marius.
‘All right. I’ll make myself scarce. I’ve been up with her all night. She’s been restless.’ Estelle paused. ‘She kept rambling on about the war.’
‘Yes?’ asked Marius impatiently. He felt utterly exhausted.
‘She says Kummel wanted boys or something – I couldn’t make out what she was on about.’
‘Go on,’ said Marius, his impatience rising visibly.
‘She kept on about protecting your father – that we all had to protect him.’
‘From what?’
‘That was the odd thing. I thought she meant the rumours. She said, “Henri’s going to tell the truth.” She kept saying it over and over again – “Henri’s going to tell the truth.”’
‘One day,’ chimed in Solange. Once again her voice had a childish sing-song quality.
‘What do you mean, Mother?’ asked Marius in as authoritative a voice as he dared.
‘One day.’
‘What do you mean – “Henri’s going to tell the truth”?’
‘Soon. He’ll have to.’
‘Shall I go?’ asked Estelle.
‘No. Stay. The mistake I made before was trying to do this alone. She’s fond of you. She’ll say more if you’re around.’
‘Very well.’ Her voice trembled a little.
‘You ask her.’
‘Solange, my pet.’ Clasping both of Solange’s hands Estelle repeated the question. ‘Why will Henri have to tell the truth?’
‘He has to be protected. They can’t be found out. Not him and Kummel.’
‘Kummel?’ Marius blurted out and his mother jumped.
‘Careful.’ Estelle nudged him. ‘Don’t startle her.’ She spoke very slowly and softly. ‘Henri and Kummel? Were they friends or something?’
The old woman nodded.
‘How close?’ asked Marius. He felt sick and a new, intense desolation was spreading inside him.
‘He’s dead.’
‘Kummel?’
She began to weep. ‘My Henri’s dead.’
‘Who killed him?’ asked Marius.
&nb
sp; ‘The Boche,’ she replied.
‘You won’t get anything more,’ said Estelle. ‘The clarity’s gone.’
The telephone rang in the sitting-room just as Marius was about to phone Gabriel.
‘Yes?’
‘Monsieur Larche. This is Mireille Leger. Can I come up and see you?’
‘Of course. When?’
‘Would now be convenient?’
‘I’ll be here.’
She rang off and he sat down at the polished table by the window. Sunbeams picked out the dust that had eluded Estelle’s careless regime. Marius closed his eyes. Naturally, if this had been a professional investigation, he would have seen him weeks ago. But to see him might have established his father’s guilt, and naturally he had refrained. But now it was essential. Somehow he had to get in to see Kummel. Then he thought of Daniel Foreman – the English war crimes specialist in Interpol. He had come across him several times on other cases and they had both attended a conference in Germany, getting to know each other quite well. Marius looked up his number in his address book and dialled.
‘Foreman.’
‘Daniel. It’s Marius Larche. Do you remember me?’
‘Of course.’ The voice was hugely reassuring – deep and resonant and arrogantly British. Just what he needed. ‘I’m terribly sorry about your father.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And the chain of events that has followed. It’s all been very widely reported in the British press. Seems you have a maniac on the loose.’
‘I’m not sure about that.’
‘You mean whoever did all that was sane?’ He sounded incredulous.
‘Determined and desperate I would say. Look, Daniel, I’m not in charge of this case.’
‘Obviously not.’
‘But I am making enquiries.’
‘Oh?’
‘I have the – co-operation of Commissaire Rodiet here.’
‘You mean he’s allowing you in?’
‘To some extent. I want you to help me.’
‘If I can.’
‘I believe the answer to all this lies with Wolfgang Kummel.’
‘He’s in solitary confinement in Lyon.’
‘Yes. I want to see him.’
‘That could be difficult. Why?’
‘Because I believe he knows who killed my father.’
‘I see. And Rodiet?’
Murder is a Long Time Coming Page 19
