by Pirate Irwin
“You always were a holier than thou supercilious bastard Lafarge. You have certainly not changed,” said Bonny venomously.
“If you think that I am here solely on my own behest, you are mistaken. I didn’t even know the tart. I have enough fun with your sister as it is, and my how she despises you and your sanctimonious ways.”
For that remark Bonny earned himself a brutal kick in the ribs from Lafarge, which to the detective’s satisfaction had Bonny writhing on the smart Persian rug, the only shame being he started spitting out bile and blood onto it.
“No, you didn’t know Marguerite, Bonny. Women of her quality wouldn’t deign to associate themselves with you and Lafont and your gang of lice.
“Maybe that’s why you have your headquarters in the 16th so you can breathe the air they breathe, but my God, that’s about the only thing you have in common with them, you piece of shit!” said Lafarge and gave him another kick, this time in the stomach, for good measure.
Bonny crawled back as best he could to the relative sanctuary of the chest of drawers as Lafarge moved in on him again.
“Come on Bonny, tell me why you are here and how you got access to the victim’s keys,” snarled Lafarge, raising his right fist over Bonny’s face.
Bonny instinctively raised his arms to protect himself, and then nodded vigorously at Lafarge that he wanted to talk. Lafarge withdrew his fist and waited for the loathsome human being to speak.
“I can’t tell you who supplied me with the keys nor the orders, as they came from Henri,” said Bonny, his voice trembling, with fear or anger Lafarge couldn’t tell.
“All I know is that Henri called me at around five this morning and said he had an urgent matter for me to deal with. He said he was indisposed, he was with some German lady, but that on his desk were a set of keys and I was to come round here and search the place.”
“That’s all? What were you to search for? Surely he told you that”, asked Lafarge in an exasperated tone.
“He said that he had been told on good information that there were diamonds here and that they were worth a pretty fortune if we could get hold of them. He said that they had been stolen from some French countess and that the victim had been murdered because of them,” replied Bonny, who was slowly inching himself back up to a more comfortable sitting position.
Lafarge nodded, thinking to himself who had prompted Lafont, or rather where had all this information come from.
The picture was becoming even more complicated, and drawing in all sorts of unwanted and dangerous forces, for he might have Bonny at his mercy for the moment but this type of incident would have ramifications for him.
Bonny and Lafont were not the types to take such a challenge to their authority by forgetting about it. It made it even more urgent for Lafarge to see Bousquet, have another go at Lescarboura, and then take a train down to Limoges as a car would be too risky, especially as he was acting alone.
Massu had some influence but he couldn’t save him from thugs like Lafont and Bonny.
“Lafont is very well informed,” said Lafarge drily.
Bonny afforded himself one of his unbecoming smiles.
“Yes, we are. You may not think very much of me Lafarge, but I still have contacts and friends inside the force. Indeed, I would say I have more friends than you have. One phone call from me and you could trip down the stairs in an unfortunate accident,” he grinned.
“Yes, I could. But you are forgetting one thing, Bonny. Why do you think you are leaving this apartment alive?” said Lafarge coolly.
Bonny looked up at Lafarge, and gratifyingly for the detective, he could see the flash off fear cross his face.
“You wouldn’t dare, Lafarge. How would you explain another corpse in the apartment to your superior?” said Bonny, his voice quavering.
“Very easily Bonny. I came upon an intruder at a crime scene and the person in question not being willing to give up quietly, I took the necessary measures to subdue him and in the course of that action, I unfortunately strangled him,” said Lafarge.
“Except you won’t Lafarge. You know why? Because you have an eye witness,” said Bonny, gesturing to Lafarge to look behind him.
Lafarge thought Bonny was bluffing, desperate to extricate himself from the situation he found himself in. He smiled grimly at Bonny and went to search in the man’s pockets hoping to find whatever weapon he had hoped to use on him. However, he was halted in his tracks by a voice from behind him.
“Gaston stop! You can’t stoop so low as to murder someone in cold blood,” pleaded Mathilde.
Lafarge stepped back and turned towards Mathilde, who was standing in the doorway, dressed just in a flowery dressing gown, her un–brushed dark hair falling all round her shoulders.
My, she was quite a sight even when she wasn’t made up, thought Lafarge. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, what else can I do, but then thought better of it and quick as a flash returned his gaze onto Bonny, who wisely hadn’t tried to take advantage of his momentary distraction to rush him.
“Okay Bonny, you can get up. You are one lucky son of a bitch, and you of all people don’t deserve any luck whatsoever,” said Lafarge coldly.
Bonny rose unsteadily to his feet, Lafarge had the brief pleasure of patting him down, and removed as he guessed a sap from his pocket and waved it in front of his face in a moment of triumph.
“This I will keep as a little trophy from our unscheduled meeting,” said Lafarge gloating, though in reality, he regretted that Mathilde had descended and interrupted him.
“She your squeeze then Lafarge? Not content on your own, and cheating on your gorgeous wife. Boy, those Latin Americans are fiery and I bet if she were to find out you wouldn’t have much to show off afterwards. I should know as I often had to deal with unfaithful husbands and their furious wronged wives,” grinned Bonny.
Lafarge slapped him on both cheeks, grabbed him by the lapels of his navy blue coat and dragged him as roughly as he could to the doorway and then along the passage to the front door. Mathilde didn’t intervene this time, she just stood to one side and watched.
“Right Bonny, off you go. Slink back to your master and tell him that his information was incorrect, there are no diamonds here and to stay away from the case and more importantly me.
“If I get one inkling you or he or your thugs are sniffing around or following me, I will not be so generous next time. Understood, asshole?” And with that Lafarge kicked him in the backside and made to slam the door on him.
Bonny, though, whirled round and put his foot in between the door and the entrance.
“Lafarge, you can make as many threats as you want. But you are powerless and almost friendless and therefore your words carry little weight.
“We on the other hand have both power and friends and no doubt the person who demanded that we search the apartment is an even more powerful man. We will come after you and we will destroy you, of that you can be certain.
“If we get the diamonds at the same time that will merely be a bonus. You have overstepped the mark, Lafarge, and there is no going back with us” hissed Bonny, who turned on his heel and descended the stairs whistling, his good humour fully restored.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lafarge could have adopted the wisest route and taken the train down to Limoges armed with his Ausweis, but he was intent on seeing Bousquet before he left.
Having earned the eternal hatred of Bonny and therefore the French Gestapo, he thought what the hell, why not round it off by confirming Bousquet’s own dislike for him.
Neither was good for his career. But Lafarge was already weary of playing the obedient servant of a government, which only flexed its limited muscles when called upon by their masters the Nazis to round up the weak, mentally sick, Jews and largely invented enemies from within and shipped them off to god knows what fate in the East.
He had given up on his future prospects. If the Allies won the War, he would be all but washed up having volunteer
ed to return to the police under Vichy. If they did not succeed, then at least he could take comfort that he had had the courage to confront the worst types who had profited from the defeat into becoming figures of authority.
Lafarge grinned grimly at the thought that he was in a no–win situation, but at least for the moment, his family were well away and relatively safe.
Whether Mathilde was, was another matter, but he couldn’t very well send her to his apartment as it was likely to receive a visit from Bonny and his gang under some cobbled together pretext. So all he could do was give her some reassurance that she wasn’t in their sights, but if she felt in danger, she was best advised to go and stay at Solidor’s apartment for there, she would be protected by higher forces than even the Lauriston crew.
His pursuit of de Chastelain had become virtually superfluous because he now felt that he was the target, but professional pride being one of his qualities, he was going to get his man and then take the consequences from his political faux pas during the investigation.
Rather than go to the office, he returned quickly to his flat, washed and phoned Massu to see if the audience with Bousquet was arranged.
Knowing the phone would be tapped by some service or other, he avoided relating the incident with Bonny and, in as relaxed a tone as possible, asked Massu in general terms about the meeting. Fortunately, Massu realized why he was talking in such a roundabout fashion and curtly replied that yes, he was to come round to the office at midday and that it shouldn’t take more than an hour.
Lafarge at least afforded the secretary general of the French police the honour of dressing in his least tired looking suit – a sharp looking chalk pin stripe double breasted affair – and put on the tie that Isabella had given him as a farewell present. He hoped Bousquet would not read too much into the design, which was of an armoured St George killing the dragon, but if he did take offence so be it.
Lafarge arrived promptly at Bousquet’s building on rue de Lutèce, which was only round the corner from his own on Quai des Orfèvres, and a middle aged, well presented secretary ushered him into his chief’s office.
Lafarge was impressed by the opulence of the room in comparison to Massu’s rather shabby and dowdy office, the latter more like the one in the Maigret films starring the collaborator Albert Préjean, a Great War hero turned yellow in Lafarge’s mind and another stain on the police’s image having him portray the great detective.
Bousquet’s office was decorated more like a hotel room, without the bed.
Gold leaf covered the ceiling and encircled the walls, two or three sculptures of middling size and distinctly mediocre taste – at least to Lafarge’s eye – were placed in three of the four corners of the room, while the fourth corner hosted a well–stocked drinks cabinet.
That was definitely to the detective’s taste, and he was hoping, not least for his nerves, to be offered a drink from it.
In front of the large window, which looked out onto the street, was Bousquet’s desk, overflowing with files, none of them opened, which Lafarge thought was more caginess on his host’s part than laziness, for that was one characteristic not to be associated with Bousquet.
His enthusiasm for his job was well known and why he was regarded so highly by the Nazis and with great suspicion by the slothful lot in Vichy.
Bousquet, though, was not sitting in his splendid chair behind his equally ornate desk, but sitting with his legs crossed on an extremely comfortable looking sofa which faced a fireplace. Bousquet rose and crossed the room to shake Lafarge’s hand, which rather surprised the detective as he had expected a formal greeting given their respective positions.
Bousquet, while considered stiff, cold and aloof, did at least know how to behave correctly, again rather a contrast to some of the Vichy high appointees.
Whilst Lafarge was justifiably satisfied with his clothes, he had to admit Bousquet was dressed even more smartly than he was. The secretary–general cut a fine figure in his navy blue single breasted suit, white shirt and black tie rounded off with shiny black laced up shoes.
Physically too, he was impressive, not dissimilar to de Gaulle minus the moustache, though Lafarge thought that was best left unsaid, being of similar height and carrying themselves with their head always held high in a proud manner reminiscent of those haughty Austrian show horses in Vienna.
Both of them, too, had a rather large nose, but while Lafarge could not vouch for de Gaulle’s eyes, he could for Bousquet’s and there was no warmth in those brown eyes even when he laughed. They were cold and wary and a warning to those in his presence not to offend the great man.
“Drink, Lafarge? Help yourself if you want one,” said Bousquet, pointing to the drinks cabinet.
Lafarge needed no second prompting and strode briskly to the cabinet and helped himself to what appeared to be becoming his usual tipple these days, a cognac.
He returned to the fireplace and lit a cigarette before settling himself into one of the comfortably furnished armchairs while Bousquet remained on the sofa, though now sitting upright.
Bousquet had what looked like a large whisky in front of him, and aping Lafarge, he helped himself to a cigarette, Lafarge noting drily that it was from a large cigarette box on the coffee table as his lost cigarette case was lying in his desk drawer at headquarters.
“I gather Massu is too busy to come and present the report on the investigation, which I find regrettable. So if you can keep it as brief as possible that would be terrific as I have a lunch date at the Ritz with Foreign Minister Fernand de Brinon, Sacha Guitry, Ambassador Abetz and some other guests,” said Bousquet brusquely.
Lafarge nodded, but nevertheless he was going to take all the time he needed and wasn’t going to be intimidated into going any faster by the list of Bousquet’s lunch guests. He took Bousquet through the outline of the investigation without divulging too many details, for as he regarded him as a suspect, giving away too much would only help him conjure up his own answers.
“Well I know I told you to be brief, Lafarge, but really all that you have told me is that you are going down to Limoges armed with an Ausweis to try and apprehend de Chastelain, who may or may not be in the vicinity,” remarked Bousquet sounding far from satisfied.
“While I am cheered that this damned lawyer may still end up in jail, and I would be delighted to know how he came to escape, I feel that we are a little light on detail here.
“For instance, how do you know he is down there and not still in Paris? Who warned him about his impending arrest and what sort of evidence have you turned up at the victim’s address?
“The details you have given me now are so vague as to prompt me to question why risk your life by going to bandit country to apprehend somebody against whom you appear to possess little evidence,” added Bousquet sharply.
Lafarge smiled and, having nursed his brandy through the first part of the meeting, thought it a good moment to down it and help himself to a second one, buying himself some time before broaching the touchy subject of Bousquet’s involvement with the victim.
Having retaken his seat, Lafarge looked at Bousquet squarely in the face, assessing whether his boss was also playing games with him, all the time knowing the detective was holding back because of what he had discovered at the apartment, and this was his way of prising it out of him.
Lafarge rubbed his chin and closed the folder, then leaned forward to address Bousquet.
“The reason I have been sparse in details about the investigation, sir, is that I find myself in the uncomfortable position of a conflict of interests, in this case involving you. Indeed, my real purpose in coming here today to present the update on the investigation was to have an opportunity to put some of these questions to you. I hope that in doing so, it will clear up any doubts I may have over being totally frank with you the next time you require an update,” said Lafarge coolly.
Bousquet’s expression remained impassive, he didn’t move an inch and just stared back at Lafarge, all
owing the silence to drag on. Eventually, he patted at his slicked back, neatly parted black hair, stroked his nose and steepled his fingers together as if he was about to enter into a moment of deep meditation.
“Lafarge, Lafarge, I really don’t think it is a very good idea for you to start probing around in such areas,” said Bousquet finally.
“I have no choice, sir. The evidence that I have gathered so far indicate you were in the apartment the night of the murder.
“My remit when I was appointed, at your suggestion I may add, was to leave no stone unturned in solving the case. I am afraid that in doing just that, I have uncovered a piece of evidence that implicates you and therefore I have to ask you what may be uncomfortable questions for both of us,” said Lafarge almost apologetically.
Bousquet sighed and glanced at his watch, no doubt mulling over whether he could just avoid the interrogation and use his lunch as an excuse for doing so, employing that battered old term of urgent state business as a reason.
However, he could ill justify that, as he had mentioned that the actor and self–proclaimed genius Guitry was going to be present, and whilst the showman never missed the chance to be present at the new elite’s social gatherings, he would not be allowed if there were matters of political import to be discussed.
Bousquet rose and walked steadily over to the drinks cabinet, poured himself a generous helping of whisky out of a glass decanter. On his way back he dallied by his desk before picking up the phone, and told his secretary to ring the Ritz and let them know he would be delayed, but not for long, he emphasized, unwilling to give Lafarge too much cause for joy.
“I will answer what I feel is relevant, Lafarge, but there must be no notes taken. I don’t want this discussed outside of this room, not even with Massu. Although by allowing you to replace him today I take it he is aware I am somehow involved,” he said resignedly.
“He is aware, yes. Furthermore, sir, I will take notes, as I would if I were interrogating anyone else in an investigation. However, they will not be used unless there is reason to at the trial,” said Lafarge.
