by Pirate Irwin
Pinault breathed in deeply, and Lafarge knew it was a big ‘but’.
“My sources tell me he was a pederast – not a very choosy one – and he had been heavily compromised in an affair he had conducted while in Algiers. It is claimed he had been subjected to blackmail and it was not just financial but also political.
“What this political angle to the blackmail was I do not know, my sources were unable to tell me, but it was sufficiently serious that certain members of the General’s entourage wished for him to be cast aside. The General was, I am told, not aware of his predilection although I find that difficult to credit.
“Now his murder coming so soon after the return of the General and the delicate state of de Gaulle’s relationship with the Churchill and Roosevelt administrations places everything at risk. What you see going on in the streets or what you saw, the aftermath of last night would be nothing compared to what might take place were they to have second thoughts about the General taking power.
“Thus we must hope that de Boinville’s murder is just a sexual rendezvous gone terribly wrong and does not have political connotations because that could have far wider ramifications, not only for France but also for the investigation,” said Pinault fixing Lafarge with a steady gaze.
Lafarge sat up sharply as he could sense a veiled warning lay within Pinault’s remarks.
“I think I can immediately dismiss an encounter gone wrong. The victim had his balls sliced off and his penis stuck in his mouth … he must have really made a bad choice to have ended up like that sir,” said Lafarge acidly.
Pinault blanched at Lafarge’s graphic description and took a slug of his drink.
“He had a dinner date that night with a couple and it wasn’t the Courneuves, for the initials don’t tally. Whether he picked someone up there or on the way home is of course a possibility but I doubt it. He had only been back a week and so many things have changed or not yet returned to the way they were that I imagine most of his old haunts are yet to re-open.
“It is a mere guess on my part and a gut reaction to what you have just said but this was a targeted murder. There was no sign of breaking and entering, so he knew his murderer or murderers, and nothing had been stolen, despite there being what appeared expensive antiques and paintings throughout the apartment.
“The way the murder was carried out suggests that they played on his homosexuality by defiling him; the castration, and the placing of the penis in the mouth was a message, that he had opened it and told somebody something that was highly damaging to the murderers.
“I don’t know whether this had anything to do with politics or his dealings in the pre-war art world, as I would hazard a guess with regard to the latter he had very little time to do much when he returned. I too would prefer that it was about the art as the last time I got involved the murder was so political it almost cost me my life – twice,” he added sardonically.
Pinault looked at Lafarge and smiled sympathetically.
“It would appear, Chief Inspector, that you have an unfortunate habit of collecting these types of cases. I am rather like poor Massu in that I prefer to avoid asking too many difficult questions, but in this case I will be forced to because of the circumstances I revealed earlier.
“Thus I want you to tread warily and at any hint of trouble you are to come to me directly. I will give you my home phone number and my address in case of an absolute emergency. Only apprise Levau of such details if it is completely necessary as I don’t want the young man bragging to his colleagues that he has the boss’s personal details!
“Also I know he is your partner, and you are only just getting used to the fact you have one, but I would advise you not to share everything with him. A need-to-know basis would be sufficient,” said Pinault.
Lafarge nodded his assent.
Pinault made to go but Lafarge had one more thing to ask him.
“Are you sure you want me to stay on the case, sir? You know deep down my character is not one for avoiding tricky subjects and delicacy is not my greatest quality. There are others, I am sure more malleable types, you could hand this on to,” he said.
Pinault turned at the doorway and grinned.
“My dear Lafarge, with your intimate links to the Vichy regime you are the most malleable of them all. I only have to click my fingers at the first sign of trouble and you will be brought to heel or otherwise the consequences for you well will be …” he said before turning on his heel leaving Lafarge feeling a tad nervous.
However, he knew it wasn’t the fault of Pinault. He hadn’t expressly allocated this murder to Lafarge for political reasons as he was unaware at the time of the identity of the victim or at least how delicate a matter it could be for his new masters.
At the same time, Lafarge mused, aside from the manic Petiot how many ‘ordinary crimes’ as Pinault had put it were there at this febrile time in France’s or Paris’s history. Not that there was much ordinary about Petiot’s alleged crimes, his residence in Rue Sueur in the expensive 16th arrondissement, was a charnel house according to Massu, who had been in charge of the initial investigation.
No matter, Lafarge could content himself with the fact his three murders were politically motivated and on behalf of those French people who had resisted the dubious charms of the Nazis. However, he doubted that his first-hand knowledge of such crimes would impress Pinault. Thus he would take his advice for the moment and see how the investigation developed. In any case being furnished with his personal contact details meant there might be some leeway if it came to a politically motivated murder, for they could discuss matters discreetly at his home.
“Good morning , sir” came Levau’s voice from behind him, for he had been sitting looking out the window since Pinault had left as it helped his thinking processes.
Lafarge swivelled round and returned the greeting while Levau, bearing a broad grin, settled himself in the chair that Pinault had vacated.
“Before you ask, Levau, yes I didn’t get much sleep but not for any pleasant reasons,” said Lafarge ruefully stroking his stubbled chin.
“Now I hope that satisfied grin on your face is not just to do with you misleadingly thinking your superior has been drinking and carousing through the night. If so I will be mightily disappointed,” said Lafarge.
Levau shook his head and withdrew his notebook.
“I did some checking up, as you ordered me to, on the Courneuves. I was able to question the concierge after he got a good night’s sleep, aided by a sedative which he needed after what he came upon yesterday, and he was most forthcoming—”
“Yes, they can be most helpful,” said Lafarge interrupting Levau, who looked askance at him but received no further illumination on the subject.
“Anyway, Cedric Grosbier – that is his name and an appropriate one it is too given his paunch – said the Courneuves, Hubert and Marianne, bought the apartment from a Jewish couple Monsieur and Madame Jakowicz in May 1940. As Cedric said, bought is being kind – more like they were robbed.
“He says the Courneuves paid them enough so they could flee the country, probably to Spain by that stage, although he is not sure where they went. However, one thing that is certain is that they didn’t look very happy when they left, having also included in the sale their art and antiques.
“Having not seen inside the apartment obviously it is impossible to tell how valuable a collection they had, but given the neighbourhood I would guess they are of the same quality as we found in the Count’s apartment.”
Lafarge leaned forward, liking very much what he was hearing and already taking a distinct dislike to this couple who had taken advantage of the anxieties of the previous owners and stolen from them their home and valuables.
A lot of French had been guilty of such profiteering and disgraceful behaviour in preying on the fears of the Jews of being persecuted by the Nazis should they attack and succeed in occupying France.
Vichy had, when they came to power, made it legal bu
t they had also engineered it by simply evicting the Jews from their homes and sending them off to the East on cattle trains. However, he had to counter his disgust for the Courneuves with the caveat that what they did didn’t logically transmute into murder.
“So how long did the Courneuves stay in Paris?” Lafarge asked.
Levau looked down the page and alighted upon the relevant passage.
“They stayed for quite a long time actually. The Count left at the end of June – he must have had someone help him to make his way to England – while the Courneuves stayed for over two years and were, according to Cedric, on extremely good terms with the Occupiers and the Vichy hierarchy who remained in Paris.
“They used to entertain lavishly and would, so Cedric says, have the German ambassador Otto Abetz, Laval from time to time when he was in Paris, and your old boss René Bousquet to drinks or dinner on regular occasions, as well as various arty types – actors such as Sasha Guitry, Jean Marais and of course his beau Jean Cocteau were guests at one time or other as were several art dealers and artists.”
Oh lord, thought Lafarge. All those names flashed at him from his recent dark past, but he pushed them to the back of his mind and focused on the Courneuves.
“So what happened to this popular and highflying couple? Why did they suddenly leave Paris, almost in the same manner as the poor Jews they cheated out of their apartment?”
“That is odd, but they told Cedric when they came to hand him a set of keys to the apartment that they were leaving for Algiers on business and would return when it was safe enough to do so.
Cedric wasn’t very happy because they didn’t so much as give him a sou as payment for ensuring the flat was looked after in their absence.”
Lafarge grunted in disgust at that,and considered how he, with much less money than the Courneuves, had looked after Madame Grondon although he didn’t begrudge her any of it as she had more than repaid him with her evidence to Pinault.
“Do we know on what sort of terms this charming couple was with the Count?”
“They barely saw each other for the month prior to the invasion according to Cedric, but he said that was normal. For the Count, while he entertained he tried to keep his life separate from the people who lived in the apartment block.
“However, the strange thing is that when they returned it was as if they were the best of friends the three of them. Madame Courneuve let slip to Cedric that they had met up in Algiers and had become inseparable, and how happy life would be now they were reunited in Paris.
“The Count by contrast, according to Cedric, didn’t impart such information and if anything in the week he was in Paris he tried to sneak out without the Courneuves trailing after him. Indeed he asked Cedric constantly were they in or had they gone out. Which if true slightly jars with Madame’s statement to him.”
Lafarge concurred on that and he liked them more and more as suspects.
For if the Count had not sought their company on his return why had he noted down lunch with Hubert Courneuve and then tea with her? All this of course was pure speculation until they had confronted the couple and for the moment they were about as evident as the Wehrmacht in the city.
He told Levau of the entry in the diary and said they should pay a visit to the building again, and if needs be simply wait until they finally turned up.
The thing nagging at the back of his mind was why had a couple that were seemingly the darlings of what passed for high society during the Occupation suddenly packed their bags and left for a city that was known not to be 100 per cent pro-Vichy. There was something not quite right, and for Lafarge anytime he heard people had been close to Bousquet and Abetz it set alarm bells ringing.
For no good ever came out of those friendships or to those that worked closely with either of them and while the German ambassador did not fall into the latter category vis-à-vis him, he could vouch for that with regard to Bousquet.
As both Bousquet and Abetz were clearly not available for questioning – more’s the pity, thought Lafarge – then they had no option but to prepare for what could be a very long and uncomfortable wait for the mysterious Courneuves to reappear.
Without them the investigation risked perhaps, much to Pinault’s relief, dying an early death though not, thankfully, for Lafarge and Levau in such gruesome fashion as poor old Count de Boinville’s.
CHAPTER SIX
“I’m going to stretch my legs,” Lafarge said to Levau after they had spent three hours cooped up inside his battered old black Citroёn which he had been allocated by Pinault.
He and Levau had spent an even duller couple of hours prior to that painting over the white graffiti of FFI which had been emblazoned over its surface to identify the occupants to the Parisians who had risen up in late August, just in case an over-enthusiastic resistant had shot before asking questions.
While FFI, who had been ordered to disband on August 28th and either join the regular army or return to their original jobs if they had one, stood for much good in most of Paris, Lafarge didn’t think the residents of the seventh arrondissement would take so kindly to what it stood for.
There was a noticeable lack of damage to buildings in the area, and he knew from his time in the Brigade Criminelle during the Occupation that many of the residents had been extremely friendly to the Nazis.
Being naturally conservative they had welcomed the order brought by the Occupier after what they perceived as the chaos of the 1930s under seemingly endless and incompetent governments.
However, he had noted with grim satisfaction that the rich residents of the area still had to put up with the same privations post-Liberation; the queues at the butcher or the baker – if they were even open for business – were as long as they were in his area. The only difference was, he reckoned, that the people doing the queuing here were the servants not the owners.
Lafarge and Levau had paid Cedric Grosbier a visit – he had as Levau had testified to an impressive paunch – and had told him to alert them once the elusive Courneuves turned up. By way of currying favour with the concierge they had left him with a bottle of one of Lafarge’s medium quality bottles of wine, his cellar being well stocked courtesy of a wedding present from his Argentinian father-in-law.
Lafarge had also passed by Berenice’s apartment on the way to the Courneuves to check on her. He found her still in low spirits and pain but her nose had been reset, a great plaster spread over her face, and a friendly neighbor caring for her. They didn’t talk much but he said he would drop by again once he had the time, and she said that she might be able to talk more about what had happened or, more to the point, give a detailed description of the man who had raped her.
Lafarge was feeling exhausted; he had had no sleep for 24 hours, and was keen to bathe as well, and part of the reason for stretching his legs was to allow Levau some relief from smelling his body odour. In the meantime he decided to stop off in the café where he and his partner had reviewed the case the day before, and not only avail himself of a couple of cognacs but also see if the grumpy barman could provide any information on the locals, namely the Count and the Courneuves.
The café was almost empty. The smattering of customers were seated on the small terrace outside as it was a beautiful warm early September evening so Lafarge offered the barman a drink which he gratefully accepted. Lafarge bided his time making small talk before he felt he had gained his confidence enough to probe about the trio.
“I didn’t see her except briefly one time, last week it was when she joined the men after lunch,” said the barman, a well-built, clean-shaven man of around 60 who spoke with an accent Lafarge registered as being from around Toulouse.
“Were they in good humour?” asked Lafarge, noting that this must have been the reference in the diary to the lunch date.
“No, I would say that the lunch had degenerated from being amicable and jovial to confrontational and chilly by the time she turned up,” he replied narrowing his eyes as if to recollec
t better.
“Did you serve them?”
“No, my wife Edith did. I was serving behind the bar and so I only glanced over from time to time, especially towards the end of their lunch, when voices were raised. I thought it was just down to the enormous amount they had had to drink, so I left them alone,” he said.
“Did your wife mention anything to you about what they were saying?”
“No, not really. She likes to think she is discreet and what goes on at the tables is none of her business. All she said was that it appeared to be some argument over Algiers, de Gaulle and the monarchy. I told her she must have misheard. I mean who talks about the monarchy these days in France?
“The only people interested by the monarchy are far right Roman Catholics and most of those have fled thank God! I mean I know the other fellow, god rest his soul, was a Count but he never discussed royalty or any such nonsense with me when he dropped in for a drink.”
“Well they may have been discussing the British monarchy for all we know. Did things calm down once Madame Courneuve turned up?” asked Lafarge.
“It seemed to. Not to the extent that there were many laughs, but the two gentlemen pulled themselves together and their voices became a lot quieter.”
“You say the Count used to come by and drink here. Was he a chatty person? Would he get things off his chest?”
“Oh he was always extremely courteous, never misbehaved. But then he was a Count, properly raised and all that. So he was never drunk or loose with his tongue, which makes it all the more bizarre the amount he drank at the lunch and what he said to me when he paid the bill,” said the barman.
Lafarge didn’t say a word just light a cigarette and sipped from his glass.
“Well he raised his eyes to the ceiling when I asked him had the lunch been to his liking. I took that as a no and was not very happy about it.
“However, he smiled and apologised and said that it had been absolutely delicious but this would be the last time anyone paid a bill for them as they would be paying a far larger one the next day.”
