Napoleon's Police

by Michele McGrath

  “Then none of the Princesses really need to fear the consequences? If that is so they will be even less inclined to answer my questions honestly.”

  “I agree with you. It will be difficult.”

  “If the theft was unplanned,” I said, thinking aloud, “the robber had the most amazing fortune. Everyone knew that Margueritte was making the Empress’s regalia but no one could know Robart was working on the crown that morning. Who would guess that he would leave it unguarded on his bench?”

  “Unless he was bribed to do so,” Fouché said quickly.

  “That’s possible of course. Fournier is checking on his circumstances and whether he needs money. If he does, we will take him into the cells and question him further. But suppose that this was an impulsive crime? The thief suddenly saw the crown, recognised it for what it was, and picked it up. He or she could conceal it within their clothes easily enough. One of the equerries was wearing a frogged coat, which would have had long skirts and deep pockets. Élisa we know wore a scarf. Who would demand to search any of them unless the crown was known to be missing? Even then, most people would hesitate, given who they are. This may have been simply an unexpected piece of luck which one of them acted upon. If they had been searched and the crown was in their pocket, they could have laughed and said it was a joke.”

  Fouché nodded. “It might have happened like that. On the other hand, if one of the Princesses asked to see the crown during their visit, I doubt whether any of the workmen would deny them.”

  I stared at him as I suddenly thought of a possible answer to one part of the puzzle.

  “Perhaps that was why an attempt was made to lure Monsieur Margueritte away from the workshop,” I said slowly. “He would have the authority to refuse their request.”

  “He was lured away?” Fouché asked me sharply. I told him what we had found out so far.

  “You are talking about a conspiracy now, not an accident.” Fouché looked at me thoughtfully.

  “Another line of enquiry to be followed up, certainly, if Garnier finds nothing. If there was a conspiracy, who are the plotters? The Princesses and their friends or the workmen? Christophe is the type of man who would keep his own counsel but neither Robart nor the apprentice, Jacques, are made of the same stern stuff. They would break under questioning, I am sure.”

  “Then I will give orders for Garnier to question them further when he returns. That should save time while you follow the other leads.”

  “Thank you, Monseigneur. There is something else I need to ask you.”

  “Well?”

  “If the crime was a spontaneous act, Princess Élisa and the two equerries had the best opportunity to snatch it. They were beside the workbench for the longest time. Can you tell me anything about them, Monseigneur?”

  “Their records are in the Ministry files and I will send them to you. I wouldn’t have thought that Élisa was daring enough to attempt something like this. She is intelligent and might work out the details of such a plot, I suppose. The Emperor does not seem to be particularly fond of her which should make her cautious of inciting his displeasure. Of all his brothers and sisters, she is too like him for his comfort. I could more easily believe such a thing of either of the others. Princess Caroline is often reckless while Princess Pauline is the Emperor’s favourite and she knows he would forgive her anything in time. She has tried his patience many times in the past. All the Bonaparte family are used to his tantrums but nothing ever happens to any them.”

  “Lucien was sent into exile when he annoyed his brother,” I reminded Fouché. Lucien had been dismissed from the court for marrying a woman of whom Napoléon disapproved.

  “Lucien is a misguided fool. He ought to have known his brother’s opinions,” Fouché snapped. “Forget him. He, at least, is innocent unless he has learned the art of black magic.”

  “If any of the Princesses took the crown, their motive would be to prevent the Empress’s coronation,” I mused. “What better way to do that than by removing her crown? Another crown could never be made or a substitute found in time. Those sort of things vanished during the Revolution.”

  “That part of the ceremony would have to be cancelled and it would cause an immense scandal.” Fouché confirmed.

  “The equerries’ opinions are not yet known. It is possible that Dupré may have acted to please Princess Pauline. Rumour says that her affection for him is cooling.”

  Fouché nodded. “Rumour in this instance speaks truth. She has selected a young captain in the Imperial Guard as her next conquest. Dupré is a spent force. He will soon be on his way back to his regiment.”

  “I know nothing of the other equerry, a man called Saint Vincent, except that he comes from Corsica and is said to be a friend of the Emperor’s family.”

  “There is a file on his background and activities and one on Dupré. From what I can remember, neither of these men has concerned us very much.” At this point, we drew up outside the Ministry and Fouché alighted.

  “You can keep the carriage until this evening, Duval,” he said to me. “It will look better if you do not arrive on foot.”

  I was pleased, for the weather was vile and the Princesses’ hôtels were separated from each other by some distance. So I rode to my first audience in style but with a sinking feeling at the bottom of my stomach. Despite the Emperor’s authorisation, I felt uneasy about tackling his sisters, although it had to be done. Fournier was correct; it was my responsibility since the case had been given to me. I had decided to get the worst over with and directed the coachman to drive to the Princess Borghese’s, the former Pauline Bonaparte.

  I quickly learned, however, that in this, I had made a bad mistake. Although it was early in the day, Pauline had obviously dined too well. An excess of wine had brought out those characteristics for which she is most famous. Her eyes were luminous and her smile an open invitation to dalliance. I bowed and handed her the Emperor’s letter which she glanced at and then gave back to me.

  “Let us be comfortable while you tell me what my brother wants of me,” she said, sinking onto a couch and patting the place beside her. I reluctantly sat down into the haze of the heavy perfume that she wore. As she leaned back against the cushions, her breasts tilted provocatively. The thin silk of her dress did not conceal their attractive shape. Despite Eugénie’s tuition, I understand very little about women’s fashions. Yet I could see clearly that she wore almost nothing beneath her frock. I felt hot at the thought, even though I realised how indecent the style really was. I couldn’t stop my eyes from following her breasts although I tried hard not to. Such a feat was beyond the strength of any man, as she knew.

  I took a deep breath and began my story. Far from being upset, before I realised what was happening, she was stroking my arm and looking up into my face, fluttering her long lashes. It was a prostitute’s trick and I wondered where she had learned it. It seemed very strange to me to be propositioned by Napoléon’s sister. If I had never met Eugénie, I might very well have been tempted, because she is truly a beautiful woman. But to compare the two is to compare quicksilver with gold. I am a fortunate man, who has no intention of playing fast and loose with his good luck. Life without Eugénie would be unthinkable.

  I kept edging away from Pauline until I reached the far end of the sofa but she followed me. So I stood up and walked into the middle of the room, turning to face her.

  “Please tell me everything you can remember about your visit to the jeweller,” I asked her, trying to keep my voice level.

  She sighed. “That imbécile made my earrings too long so they scratched my shoulders whenever I turned my head. I told him they must be shortened yet again. I don’t think he ever listens to me. Why my brother ever picked the firm out of all the jewellers in Paris! That man, Christophe is his name! He complained there wasn’t enough time but I ordered him to make the alteration at once and no excuses.”

  There was more of the same tale but I wasn’t interested in her jewellery.
I tried to lead the talk around to what she had or hadn’t seen in the workshop. I don’t know if the woman was naturally unobservant or playing a clever part, but I didn’t get much sense out of her. Eventually I lost patience and asked her outright about the Empress’ crown.

  “That bauble!” she exclaimed contemptuously, “a fit piece of trumpery for the head of a trollop.” I was taken aback that she should say such a thing to someone she had never met before, but then I remembered that she had been drinking. Certainly she did not seem to care whether I repeated her words.

  “It was in the workshop at the time of your visit. Did you by any chance see it?”

  “Me? No. Was it there? If I’d seen it, I’d have wrenched the jewels out with my fingernails and spat upon them!”

  What can you say to that? I kept on questioning her for a while but she stuck to her story that she had never noticed the crown, nor had anyone mentioned it to her. Her eyes began to glaze, with the look of a person who was becoming bored. It was when she started stroking her breasts and looking at me that I took fright. I left her as soon as possible, vowing never to visit her again if I could avoid it. I was thankful to escape relatively unmolested.

  Chapter 7

  8 Frimaire, Year XIII

  (Thursday, November 29, 1804)

  I was leaving Pauline’s hôtel when I encountered a man in the hallway, who was just entering the building. He swaggered through the door as if he owned the place. He was tall, in his thirties and wearing a black frogged coat. My mind immediately leaped to the description Margueritte’s apprentice gave us of the equerry who had retrieved Élisa’s scarf. This might be the same person so I decided to find out and save Fournier a task.

  He frowned when he saw me and moved to stop me from going any further. I got the immediate impression that he wanted to intimidate me. He was several centimetres taller than I am and he drew himself up to his full height before he spoke to me. Perhaps he wondered whether he should be concerned because I had been calling on his mistress. Little did he know that he had no need to be jealous of me. I pitied the poor fellow; he was welcome to her. So I stood and waited, trying not to remember my first sergeant’s training. I had been taught to disarm and kill men who made my present opponent look like a dwarf. I hoped this man would not be stupid enough to try anything. I did not want any trouble; I had more than sufficient already.

  “Monsieur, do I know you?” A civil question but his tone was an insult.

  “No. Let me introduce myself to you. I am Alain Duval, agent of Police.” I bowed slightly, but never took my eyes off his hands.

  “And why is one of Fouché’s lackeys visiting the house of the Emperor’s sister?”

  “I am here at the Emperor’s orders and on his business. Are you Monsieur Dupré? If so I would like a few words with you as well.” I showed him the Emperor’s authorisation and I could feel him tense. An involuntary reaction, which I would have missed it if I had not been watching him so closely.

  “I’m Dupré. What do you want with me?”

  “Is there anywhere more private for us to talk rather than in this corridor?” I asked. He opened the door into one of the nearby salons which was quite empty at this time of day. I could imagine it thronged with the notables of Paris in the evening. We sat down and I began to question him, thankfully out of earshot of his mistress. I decided to tell him a part of the truth and so I said that an item of valuable jewellery had gone missing. I did not tell him which one.

  “How shocking!” he exclaimed. “These workmen amaze me with their audacity. It was missed immediately after our visit you say?”

  “Indeed so. It would be most helpful if you could tell me everything you witnessed from the time you entered the workshop until the time you left.”

  He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes as if he was picturing the scene in his mind.

  “Princess Borghese wanted her earrings shortened. It was urgent as you can imagine, since she has to wear them at the coronation in two days.”

  “Why didn’t she just send a message to the jeweller?”

  “She didn’t trust anyone but herself to get the length exactly right and time was too short for yet another mistake. Her sisters were with us when she decided she must go to Margueritte’s workshop again. They said they would come with her to make sure their own regalia were correct. A lot of fuss about nothing, but you know what women are like.” He winked at me and I smiled as if I shared his sentiments.

  “What items of jewellery did you see while you were there?”

  “Princess Pauline’s earrings, a couple of necklaces. There were probably other things around, but I didn’t pay much attention, to be honest. Jewellery doesn’t interest me.”

  “Nothing special caught your eye?”

  “No. Was there something special? What exactly has been stolen?” His tone was sharp. I stared at him hard but he met my gaze without changing expression.

  “A bauble,” I repeated the Princess’s description to him, “but a valuable one.”

  “I wasn’t aware of any baubles. I suppose I would have seen other things if I looked, but I didn’t. If I remember rightly, I spent most of the time watching the lad blowing up the fire to heat the soldering irons. He was the only one doing anything active in the room.”

  “I am told that Princess Élisa dropped her scarf and you returned it to her.”

  “Yes I did. What of it?”

  “I am merely checking the accuracy of the information I have been given so far.”

  “It’s accurate enough. She did drop it and I picked it up for her. Is there any other question you would like to ask me?”

  “Not at the moment. I must thank you for your help and go to speak with the others who were present. Perhaps they noticed something that you did not.”

  “Perhaps they did. Saint Victor seemed more interested in the jewellery than me. Neither Princess Baciocchi nor Princess Murat miss anything that is going on around them. They’ll probably be able to answer you far better than I can. I wish you good luck with the hunt.”

  “Thank you for your concern.”

  I left the Hôtel Borghese, reflecting upon Dupré’s attitude. He seemed quite relaxed, once he had realised that I wasn’t a rival for Pauline’s favours. He had not started at any of my questions or otherwise betrayed surprise. He was either an extremely good actor or an innocent man. I was inclined to the former. I have enough experience now to tell when people are lying to me. I did not think he was an exception; he had raised my suspicions because his answers were too bland. He would bear further scrutiny.

  I decided to make one more visit before I returned to meet Fournier and Lefebvre at the Rose. I had only drawn negatives so far and I hoped for better luck with Caroline. Napoléon’s third and youngest sister had married one of her brother’s generals. Madame la Maréchale Murat only days ago had been created an Imperial Princess on condition she behaved herself at the coronation ceremony. I had heard much speculation in the taverns about what she had done to deserve such a stipulation being placed upon her. The rumour said that neither she nor her sisters wanted to carry the new Empress’s train but that might have been malicious gossip. I wanted to leave Élisa to the last, since I thought her the most likely culprit amongst the sisters. Certainly she had the best opportunity unless the workmen were lying.

  It was becoming late in the afternoon when I drove to Caroline’s. I was determined to do my job but reluctant to interview yet another drunken princess, especially as this one lacks her sister’s charm. Yet I had no choice. I visited the Hôtel Murat, only to be disappointed.

  “Their highnesses are not at home,” a lackey told me.

  “I must see Princess Murat, at the Emperor’s express command. Where is she?” I asked him.

  He looked as if he would like to slap me for my impudence. So I made haste to show him Napoléon’s letter, which caused his eyes to widen.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, in a tone of forced politeness, “but the P
rincess is poorly. She is asleep and her physician has given orders that she must not be disturbed. The Prince is dining with friends. I can give you their address if the matter is urgent.”

  “It is but I need to see the Princess, not the Prince.”

  “The doctor has dosed her with laudanum. It would be hard to wake her. Even if we did so I doubt if she would be able to speak sensibly to you. I will ask her maid to rouse her if you insist but...” his words trailed off. I had been watching him carefully. He was, of course, an excellent servant and well trained to lie on his mistress’s behalf. Yet he had reacted with genuine shock when he read the Emperor’s letter, which is difficult to feign. He would have to let me in if I persisted but if he was telling me the truth and she was drugged, it would do me no good. I did not want to raise unnecessary suspicions, which would doubtless be passed on to the Prince and Princess and put them on their guard.

  “When will the Princess be able to see me?”

  “The maid usually brings her chocolate at 10 o’clock. If she is better, she might receive you then. If she is still unwell, I cannot say.”

  “Inform the Princess that I will call on her again at 10 o’clock tomorrow morning,” I said and turned away. The interview would have to wait for now. I could not force myself into the bedroom of a sick woman who has been drugged with laudanum, especially not one so closely related to Napoléon. She would have legitimate cause to complain about me and that would hardly further my search. I groaned inwardly. I was little further forward and I was rapidly running out of time.

  I debated with myself what to do next. Should I go on to Élisa’s or meet the others and find out if they had better luck? In the end I thought it would be useful to have more information before I confronted the cleverest sister of all. Accordingly I returned first to the Ministry, to check whether anything had happened in my absence. I was feeling depressed when I arrived because I had discovered nothing of value from the people I had interviewed so far. I found Laurent there, writing at his desk. He bristled as soon as he saw me come in.