by Pirate Irwin
“Let me play devil’s advocate for a moment, Chief Inspector, but if I was the defendant’s lawyer I would have no trouble in turning the finger of suspicion on you.
“A woman you could well have designs on is unfortunately married, but conveniently the husband is now on trial because of you. Apparently he is one of the ringleaders in some plot to bring down de Gaulle. A man with an impeccable war record is on trial at the instigation of a detective with a dubious past.”
Lafarge went red at this remark and made to intervene but Pinault was having none of that.
“Aside from your instinct believing him to be guilty you have what as evidence? None except what you allegedly heard him say to Courneuve and what he said to you after your meeting with Palewski. It is your word against his. What witnesses do you have?” Pinault said smiling sourly.
“You have a couple with a history of blackmailing people, and one of them will be incapable of testifying in court because he has had his tongue all but cut from his mouth. Also both of them are facing the guillotine themselves for murdering the Count, which will not gain them any credibility in the eyes of the court. Aside from them Monnet is dead as are the two gendarmes sent to murder Courneuve.
“On the other hand who was present for all of these events, except the rape of Madame de Cambedessus? Why, you of course. Can’t you see what mischief the defence lawyer will be able to make.
“De Cambedessus may have failed to have you killed, but once he learns you are still alive, he will bring pressure to bear on the prefect and then on me to have you either sidelined or even arrested, and there will be very little I can do to oppose it.”
Lafarge was reeling from this dissection of his case, quite apart from having nearly been killed twice that day. It had seemed to him the evening would end well once he outlined the case to Pinault and as a result de Cambedessus would be under lock and key.
However, now it looked more likely it would be him hearing the clink of the jailer’s keys and he could scarcely believe it. Levau too looked astonished but lest he say something he would regret Lafarge nudged him under the table with his foot to tell him to keep quiet.
He, though, was not going to sit there in silence and he thought as Pinault was no Bousquet he would give him a fair hearing. However, he wanted more than just being absolved of trying to indict an innocent man. He wanted to convince Pinault there was a case for de Cambedessus to answer and the only way that could be proven was if he was to remain in charge of the investigation.
“Well, sir, no there is not much in the way of proof I can offer. In terms of witnesses at least if Courneuve lives he is still capable of identifying de Cambedessus. All he has to do is stand up in court and point to him when he is asked whether he is the man he knew as ‘Arthur’. In a way it may help us that they cannot hear his whining voice,” said Lafarge.
“Apart from that I will just have to be at my best in the witness box and rebut any accusations thrown in my direction.
“I am getting rather used to doing that after all! All I can say to you, sir, is that there are grounds for further investigation. You outlined it yourself before very capably tearing it apart. What I need to do is to make it fail-safe.”
Pinault looked far from convinced, and Lafarge conceded he wouldn’t have been either if he had heard Levau say the same thing to him.
“How do you see yourself being able to do that? As far as I can see you don’t have many avenues left to explore,” said Pinault.
“I will have to go back to the wolf’s lair and demand de Cambedessus honour his side of the bargain with regard to killing Monnet, that is to let me see my sister,” said Lafarge.
“If he does permit that, then it his way of admitting the deal for killing Monnet was real and he can’t turn that against us in court.
“There is nothing linking him directly to contacting Monnet; he told me it was a voice on the telephone who informed him I was coming to see him. Thus I can disabuse him of the notion that I suspect him of tipping Monnet off.”
Pinault nodded.
“That is not bad, but I don’t see how it will allow you to learn anything more about the supposed plot to restore the monarchy. I mean, your sister is hardly going to be privy to such information,” said Pinault still clearly far from convinced.
“No, that is true, but it will perhaps goad de Cambedessus into thinking he is in the clear if he believes we don’t think he had anything to do with the trap set by Monnet.
“Judging by his conversation with Courneuve he believes he is untouchable anyway, although my being alive might make him feel uncomfortable for a moment, he will relax once he thinks I don’t suspect him.
“If it works I would like you to put Noel on to follow him. He doesn’t know him and I think Noel is a decent enough detective to make a good job of tailing him and noticing who he sees and what he does. He can see if he has any particular habits or routines. They can tell us a lot about him.”
Pinault nodded again and without asking ordered what he insisted was the last round of drinks, much to the delight of the clearly fatigued bar owner.
“Noel is a fine detective. But why not use Levau?” Pinault asked.
“Ah well, he is going to use his young charms on Marianne Courneuve. I imagine she could do with some cheering up and some flattery, not that she deserves either, while I will also focus on Berenice de Cambdessus.”
“Oh lord, Chief Inspector, that was what I feared you would say! What? So you believe Berenice de Cambedessus is in need of an unfit, heavy-drinking detective who is trying to condemn her husband to the guillotine,” said Pinault, although he said it with a large smile on his face.
Lafarge too smiled, pleased the atmosphere had lifted a bit and Pinault was softening his stance.
“Something along those lines, sir. No, seriously, while they have not spent time together over the past few years, there is a chance she may recall something he said or did, or more about what he has been doing since his return here.
“It’s not certain I will learn anything, but I have her confidence and I do not get the impression he hurried to her side when he learnt of the rape.
“Of course he sounded terribly sincere when he spoke to me yesterday, but I had the feeling it was false and after her affair with the Wehrmacht officer she was due some retribution.
“However, he seemed relieved he hadn’t had to do it himself because, as he showed with the Courneuves and the Count, he prefers to push others to commit the acts.”
Lafarge halted there, having exhausted his hypothesis, took a long gulp of his cognac and waited nervously for Pinault to give his final word on the matter.
“Nicely put, Chief Inspector. Okay, you have persuaded me that we give it one more go. However, I mean just one more.
“This has nothing to do with political games or interference, Chief Inspector, before you start attacking me on that front. Just there is enough crime to be dealing with and we have the people responsible for the murder of the Count.
“I will put Noel on to de Cambedessus if your meeting goes as you wished. If he doesn’t deliver and has you removed from his office then I am afraid we cut our losses and go with the Courneuves. Levau, you will ‘charm’ Madame while I will reluctantly allow you, Chief Inspector, to perform a similar role with Madame de Cambedessus.
“I, meanwhile, will return to my unrewarding and frustrating task of tracking down the phantom that is Doctor Petiot.”
Lafarge thanked Pinault and leaned back in the chair hugely relieved while Levau looked happy too.
“So the glass is humming then, sir?” Levau said cheekily.
Pinault frowned back at his young subordinate.
“Your ears will be humming with the sound of birdsong if you are that impertinent again, Levau! Really, Lafarge, what have you taught him!” said Pinault leaning back and letting out a belly laugh.
“For that you can pay for the drinks,” added Pinault suddenly looking deadly serious.
&nbs
p; Levau looked embarrassed and started feeling around in his pockets for money, but Lafarge stopped him and said the very least he could do, after he had saved his life, was pay for the drinks.
Lafarge left a large tip – the clock had ticked over to well past one in the morning – which brought a grateful smile to the bar owner’s lips, although this was to be cut short by an intervention from Pinault, who was slightly drunk and unsteady on his feet.
“My dear, sir, I would like to congratulate you on the high quality humming of your glasses,” said Pinault as they stumbled outside, prompting Lafarge and Levau to laugh but left the bar owner open-mouthed and thoroughly perplexed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lafarge didn’t stand on ceremony the next morning when a pompous young lieutenant told him that he would have to wait to see de Cambedessus and that he may not even have the time to see him because he was due to catch a plane to meet up with the General and his entourage on their tour.
“So the fox is flying to meet up with his coop of chickens,” thought Lafarge. “Maybe I should take a ride too in case the plot is to come to fruition on the tour.” However, he knew Pinault wouldn’t allow him to do that based on nothing more than supposition it would be enacted while de Gaulle was out of Paris.
However, while he was not there to arrest de Cambedessus, not yet at least, he was damned if he was going to sit around on the chance of catching a minute or two of his time or that he would deliberately avoid seeing him. He was exhausted; his head was a little hazy after the session with Pinault and Levau, and he was also desperate to secure the address of where his sister had been taken.
Thus he brushed aside the lieutenant and burst into de Cambedessus’s office. The colonel looked up, startled at the interruption. He was not alone for a man dressed in uniform was sitting in the chair Lafarge had occupied the day before.
De Cambedessus, Lafarge noted, didn’t even flinch. There was no look of surprise he was looking at a very much alive Chief Inspector. Instead he fixed him with an angry gaze.
“Is this the way you behaved under Vichy, Chief Inspector? This was Bousquet’s way of implementing subtle policing?” said de Cambdessus mounting his high horse of moral indignation.
Lafarge sighed and thought of the pleasure it would bring him later on to arrest the prig and deflate his sense of superiority. As for moral high ground, well the more he learnt of the man with what Pinault termed the ‘impeccable war record’ the more he thought there was little difference between him and his former chief Bousquet.
“I am sorry, Colonel. I didn’t realise you had a visitor. The lieutenant said you were alone but in a rush to catch a plane so I thought I better take advantage of the little time you have to talk about our arrangement,” said Lafarge tersely while enjoying putting the lieutenant firmly in the crosshairs of his superior.
De Cambdessus glared at the lieutenant, who shook his head and then departed, while the colonel’s visitor, a well-built man with thinning salt and pepper-coloured hair and in his early 50s, rose from his seat and approached Lafarge.
“Hi, let me introduce myself as the colonel appears to have lost his manners somewhere up his own ass! I’m General Miles McLagan of the US Army attached to Ike’s staff,” said the man stretching out his hand.
Lafarge took his hand and found his held in a firm vice-like grip as McLagan, who was about the same height as the Chief Inspector, stared into his eyes.
Lafarge stared back and couldn’t fail to notice the red-blotched skin, the red streaks in the eyes of the general and the bulbous nose, which had nostril hairs liberally sprouting out. His breath smelt of freshly imbibed alcohol, though Lafarge had to admit probably a more pleasant odour than the stale alcohol emanating from his mouth. Whatver the pros and cons of the lack of quality of their breath – Lafarge’s excuse was he had run out of toothpaste – the general looked as if he was one step further ahead of the Chief Inspector in becoming an alcoholic.
“Er, yes, you must excuse the colonel’s temporary loss of courtesy, but we weren’t scheduled for a meeting today,” said Lafarge smoothly.
“I’m Chief Inspector Lafarge.”
The general smiled, revealing surprisingly clean and polished white teeth – false probably, thought Lafarge – and moved to pick up his cap.
“You don’t have to leave on my account, General. My business with the colonel won’t take long,” said Lafarge, who was also quite keen to see how the two interacted with each other, whether they were on cordial terms or if it was simply an official relationship.
McLagan smiled again, thanked him but said they had finished their meeting and anything else could wait till the colonel returned from his trip.
Left alone together de Cambdessus let his mask slip, making no effort to conceal his irritation with a far from contrite Lafarge.
“Just because you have been reinstated into the police force doesn’t mean you can continue with the same bad habits you employed when you were faithfully obeying the enemy’s orders, Lafarge,” said de Cambdessus prissily.
“I believe I heard you the first time, Colonel,” said Lafarge.
“Well, I thought it worth repeating as it seems you need to be constantly reminded of your status and things are no longer as they were. We play by different rules and we have a sense of honour, which is something that has been lacking in our country over the past four years,” said de Cambedessus haughtily.
“Christ!” thought Lafarge, |”I haven’t got time to waste being dressed down like a little schoolboy being given a history lesson and at the same time a moral one as well.” His temper was rising but he managed to restrain himself from asking the colonel whether he was referring to de Gaulle or the monarchists.
“Right, Colonel, look both you and I are busy men so let’s just dump the lecture and get down to business,” said Lafarge.
“I notice that with all your blustering you haven’t asked about how it went with Monnet.”
“Well, Chief Inspector, the fact you are standing here talking to me suggests that Captain Monnet is no longer a problem for the women of Paris and for that we must congratulate ourselves,” said de Cambedessus.
“Hmm,” thought Lafarge, “I wonder what his speech to Monnet would have been had he succeeded in killing me instead. ‘Well done, captain, you have rid France and the police force of a most dissolute character, one not fit to embrace the new code of honour and ethics.’ Yes, it would definitely have been along those pompous self-righteous lines.”
Lafarge, though, knew he had to behave as if nothing abnormal had happened; his sole interest for the moment was his sister.
“Well we should both get a medal for such a service to the state,” said Lafarge drily.
De Cambedessus glared at him and then tossed a copy of Le Figaro newspaper across the desk. Lafarge picked it up and saw in the bottom right-hand corner of the front page a piece about the shooting in Rue Grenelle. Monnet’s death had failed to make the same page, which pleased Lafarge as the man deserved to pass away without anybody noticing.
“You have been a very busy man, Chief Inspector! Rushing from one side of Paris to the other and leaving a swathe of destruction and death in your wake. If only we’d known of your talents when we were in London we could have dispensed with such diplomatic efforts as we charged de Boinville with and set you on taking care of the heads of Vichy,” said de Cambedessus sarcastically.
“However, of course you were quite willing to work under them. Perhaps this is a way of letting out all your repressed anger, but costing the lives of five gendarmes in one day … I would imagine your partner is quite concerned at what his future life prospects are.”
Lafarge didn’t rise to the provocative remarks, thinking that was exactly what de Cambedessus wanted so he would lose his cool and reveal that they knew two of them had been fake gendarmes.
“Well for what it is worth, Colonel, the four gendarmes were dead when I got there with my partner and the killer or killers had got away. T
hey had also succeeded in their aim of killing our principal suspect in the murder of Count de Boinville,” said Lafarge lying through his teeth.
De Cambedessus looked confused at his last remark, as well he might.
“Really is that true? I see no mention of it in the paper,” said de Cambedessus.
Lafarge shrugged.
“Well he died shortly after we got him to hospital and it would have been too late for the newspapers to go to press with it,” said Lafarge.
De Cambedessus looked puzzled and stroked his moustache which Lafarge enjoyed immensely, for secretly the colonel must have been rejoicing at the success of his plan and countered the disappointment he had felt when he saw Lafarge burst through his door.
“Oh dear, Chief Inspector, I must say that is unfortunate. I will have to pass on this news to Palewski and I dare say he will not be happy, and nor indeed will General de Gaulle. I fear there may be consequences for you once they have learnt of this, for they were very fond of the Count despite his sexual proclivities and indiscretions.”
Lafarge was more than a little peeved at de Cambedessus’ brazenness and nerve in saying what he had just said. Lafarge would ensure that the blade on the guillotine was blunt the day de Cambedessus answered for his crimes, so his death would be long and painful.
“Of course, Colonel, I totally understand they will not be pleased by this, but I think it in your best interests to soften the criticism given that I would have been able to intervene and perhaps prevent his murder had I not been conducting personal business on your behalf on the other side of Paris,” said Lafarge tartly.
De Cambedessus glared at Lafarge, but to the Chief Inspector’s delight for once he appeared lost for words.
“Anyway, Colonel, I have come here to obtain the information about my sister which you promised me. So I would appreciate you handing the address over to me now,” said Lafarge firmly.
