The Tortured Detective

by Pirate Irwin

  Bousquet laughed, not especially warmly and holding out his hands said: “What, you’ve come here to arrest me too, that is amusing Lafarge!”

  Lafarge bit his lip, refusing to rise to the bait, and simply shook his head.

  “You know Lafarge, I think you are taking the personal animosity between us which dates back a while now too far. Why oh why if I had anything to do with the murder would I want you involved, because doubts about you on a personal front apart, I know full well you are one of the few detectives capable of doing a thorough job.

  “I don’t think you are seeing things clearly, Lafarge, one hint of my involvement and you turn your full attention onto me meanwhile allowing de Chastelain to escape,” said Bousquet.

  “Excuse me sir but it wasn’t me who let him slip through our fingers the first time,” said Lafarge boldly.

  “I don’t like that tone detective, and as for your blaming me, well I think you should look at who told him I was after him. I was powerless to stop that happening,” said Bousquet.

  “Alright, we are getting away from the subject here. I will also make clear that I have not allowed my judgement to be clouded by our mutual dislike for each other, but I will concede that it doesn’t seem logical you asking for me if you had something to hide. However, in the times we live in, logic and actions don’t seem to gel,” said Lafarge.

  “In order that you can get to your lunch before it goes cold and so as I can return home and pack before leaving tomorrow morning, it would be best that you tell your secretary not to put anyone through to you on the phone,” said Lafarge.

  Bousquet nodded and did as he had been asked.

  “Before you start, Lafarge, I want to say that you should be very careful in what you ask. Your father may be close to Pétain, but that is not a guarantee you are protected. Compare his protection with the protectors I have and you will see how uneven the sides are already.

  “I mean I could just have you sacked, lord knows I wouldn’t want to be directly implicated. For the moment, we will go on with our little game but should I believe you are deliberately going after me as part of some machinations being orchestrated down in Vichy, then you will suffer for it.

  “I may not be able to touch them, yet, but you will do nicely as the first course,” Bousquet said, his glacial tone leaving no room for imagining he meant otherwise.

  Lafarge shrugged the threat aside, for he was certainly part of no plot against Bousquet. However, he would allow him his paranoid delusions of being targeted if that opened the way for him to be as honest as he could be in his answers to his questions about a real victim and a real crime.

  “So tell me what you were doing in the victim’s apartment the night she was murdered,” said Lafarge.

  Bousquet had somewhat surprisingly, given the tense atmosphere between the two men, got up and served them drinks and was returning to take his seat when Lafarge asked the question.

  “I was there because Marguerite wanted my help. I was only too delighted to be asked to perform such a service, so I walked round to her apartment to aid her,” said Bousquet.

  “Why did she require your help? She had plenty of influential friends including her lover, that Abwehr colonel von Dirlinger,” said Lafarge with an air of disbelief.

  “Ah, here you are being disingenuous Lafarge. I am glad that it is not just me being equivocal. I know for a fact you spent most of yesterday with the good colonel. You really shouldn’t take me for being a fool Lafarge, I believe that, rare among my fellow Vichy officials and ministers, I am there on merit,” said Bousquet smugly.

  “Yes indeed, I did. He asked me for dinner and I felt it rude to decline his offer. We had a most enjoyable time. It does not mean that I have ruled him out of my enquiry. As for taking you for a fool, sir, I would not allow myself such a misjudgement,” said Lafarge.

  “Very well Lafarge, let’s move on. Time is pressing,” Bousquet said impatiently, again glancing at his watch.

  “I already asked you a question which you have yet to answer,” said Lafarge.

  Bousquet shot him a glance, which conveyed the message clearly warning him to watch his tone.

  “She wanted my help because she was not keen to pursue her relationship with von Dirlinger, and thought that with my position, I could weigh in should he react badly to her terminating the affair,” said Bousquet.

  “Weigh in, how so? I mean, you hold a high position of state but I don’t think that runs into telling people who to have relationships with, or to tell a spurned lover how to conduct themselves. You are the father of our state security but a moral guide, I think not!” said Lafarge.

  “Lafarge, that is enough! I think you are getting way above yourself here! How dare you come in here and treat me as if I was one of your usual weasels that you interrogate. I don’t think you are taking my warning seriously enough. I am granting you some leeway, but you are going far further in your remarks and your sarcasm than I will allow,” said Bousquet now visibly furious.

  Lafarge moved to reply, but Bousquet waved him aside.

  “You know who I had a personal audience with the other day? Reinhard Heydrich, who came to Paris to personally see me and congratulate me on my efforts in trying to resolve the problem of foreign Jews in France.

  “Yes, Lafarge, Heydrich. He didn’t seek out de Brinon or summon Laval from Vichy, it was me he came to see. That is the indication of the power I wield, and perhaps why Marguerite sought me out for protection. That of course can be turned on its head should I feel threatened,” said Bousquet menacingly.

  Lafarge thought about asking him if he had been presented with a cigarette case by Heydrich, but thought better of it. Funny, Lafarge thought to himself, that here was a highly intelligent and capable man who knew the difference between right and wrong but who had allowed ambition to override his moral judgement.

  He didn’t have the slightest moral scruple when it came to bathing in the congratulations and praise of a sociopath like Heydrich. He had fallen so completely under Heydrich’s spell that he had promised his French police would resolve the problem of foreign Jews in France, whatever that meant though Lafarge had a pretty good idea what measures would be implemented.

  How ironic that the foreign Jews had sought refuge in France believing they had found sanctuary. Even those in the so called Free Zone could not feel too safe now that Bousquet had sworn to devote his forces to ridding France of them.

  Did Bousquet see himself as Heydrich reincarnated in France, assuming the totally inappropriate title of ‘Protector of France’ like the German’s present role as ‘Protector of Bohemia and Moravia’?

  Protector of what exactly? Of prejudice and brutality and imposing laws that no normal human being could possibly believe were just and which simply were weapons to punish those that the regime felt were races or creeds or deviants that did not deserve to be part of the new ruling order?

  However, Lafarge while revolted by the smugness and arrogance of the man in front of him realized that he was his boss. Nevertheless, he didn’t accept his reason for being round at Marguerite’s apartment, but he knew he didn’t have much more time to probe as Bousquet’s patience was running out.

  “So what was your answer to her request? I trust you gave her one,” asked Lafarge.

  “Well I of course told her that I would do anything I could to help her should von Dirlinger, your friend,” Bousquet said with a sly smile before adding “persist in annoying her once she had told him the bad news.”.

  Lafarge noted this down and made to gather up the rest of his papers, before sitting back in his chair, hoping he would catch Bousquet off his guard.

  “Sorry, I won’t detain you for much longer. However, I was wondering whether anything else was discussed that night. I found quite a few cigarette butts in the ashtray which suggests that your stay was rather long. Are you free to discuss what else you talked about?” asked Lafarge.

  Bousquet nodded his head, Lafarge thought for one minu
te it might be to salute his remark over the length of time he had spent there, but then he rather doubted that, given the animosity between them.

  “Not much of interest to you I would say. Pleasantries and idle gossip, her latest film, her future projects with Albert Greven, that sort of thing. Who was the next innocent virgin Guitry had his eyes on… The sort of relaxed conversation that I rarely get to have these days,” he sighed with what seemed to be genuine regret.

  Lafarge, though, felt no pity for him on that score, he had assumed his high rank knowing very well that it was perhaps the most onerous and the one where the Germans would come calling more often as they prized security above anything else.

  “On that note regarding gossip and Guitry’s sexual adventures, not to mention the victim wanting your protection were it needed with von Dirlinger, I would have thought you might have asked whether she had seen your missing prey de Chastelain,” asked Lafarge, delighted to have had this line of questioning opened up for him by Bousquet.

  Bousquet bit his bottom lip, a reproach to himself, Lafarge reckoned, but he had no choice but to answer the question.

  “Oh I think I touched on the subject with her. She seemed so concerned about the possible fallout from ending her affair with von Dirlinger that I thought it unnecessary to pursue it too earnestly with her,” replied Bousquet smoothly.

  That is a load of bullshit, Lafarge thought. Regardless of the tension between the two, he wasn’t going to let that answer suffice. Bousquet himself would not have been satisfied with him if he had let that one ride in an interrogation of another suspect.

  “I am afraid I don’t believe that, sir. It is well known how furious you were after he failed to show up in court and vowed to hunt down not only him but also those who helped him avoid his arrest.

  “You can accuse me of being many things, but I am not stupid and indeed one of the reasons why you may have asked for me to be appointed to this case is because of that, for you think I can lead you to those who did help him.

  “I have already learnt from an authoritative source that Marguerite was the person who warned him. So if I know that, I am sure you also being an intelligent man would have asked yourself the same question too and helpfully being in her apartment taken the time to ask her,” said Lafarge.

  “You certainly are well informed, detective,” said Bousquet, Lafarge noting that he had not used his title, probably deliberately.

  “You are certainly better informed than me, or smarter at prising information out of others. All I will say further on the matter is that she denied it outright and I left there not much the wiser over who the mole had been,” he added with a pained expression clouding his handsome features.

  “My information tells me otherwise, as does my instinct. I do not believe that you would have been satisfied with her response, I also do not believe that the reason you were in her apartment was because she invited you to ask about protection.

  “It may have cropped up to distract you, but I believe you got yourself invited there on the pretext of some invented excuse and then interrogated her, politely of course, on de Chastelain.

  “You are also the last person known to have been in her apartment while she was alive. All in all secretary–general, the evidence is stacking up against you,” said Lafarge coldly.

  Bousquet looked at Lafarge with first disbelief and then rose from his chair, walked to one of the large windows and started laughing.

  “You do want to stay in the police force, don’t you Lafarge?

  “I mean, I could always find you a role as a comic in a one man show, a clown at the circus, or perhaps a lion tamer, where hopefully the lions would devour you. From what you have just said you are all but accusing me of murder,” he spluttered incredulously.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I think, and so do you, that de Chastelain committed the murder, but I am simply laying out the facts that could be presented as an alternative case. One that, whispered into the right ears, could cause you problems you wouldn’t care for,” said Lafarge crisply.

  Bousquet whirled round, his eyes narrow slits, and shot a look of venom at Lafarge.

  “You have powerful friends, sir, but so do I, and loathe that I am to use them, I will do in this case. Not for my own self–preservation, but because I believe that the victim and her family deserve the truth. At a time when there is little of it around, it would be nice to say that at least it still exists,” Lafarge said forcefully.

  Bousquet sighed deeply, looked at his finely–manicured fingernails, and took his time to speak.

  “I repeat Lafarge that I asked her, I got a denial and I left. She was very much alive, she was I think expecting someone else and I have no idea who that was. Maybe it was that prick de Chastelain, or von Dirlinger,” said Bousquet glacially.

  “Either of them would be more suitable targets for your investigation, rather than trying to settle a score with me.

  “On the subject of de Chastelain I believe you have to prepare your things for your train early tomorrow morning. I suggest on your lengthy journey you reflect on our meeting today.

  “And when you return, if you do, and I would recommend only do so if you have de Chastelain with you, I hope it is with a different perspective on my role that night. It would be better for both of us that it is the case,” he added sternly.

  Lafarge breathed in deeply and let out a steady sigh before rising from the chair.

  “I take it that is another warning,” ventured Lafarge.

  “You are the detective, I think you can work that out for yourself,” replied Bousquet sarcastically.

  “However, all will be good if you, as I say, return with de Chastelain. Then not only will it put an end to your wild accusations but also perhaps it will provoke me into forgetting about this meeting.

  “Unlike von Dirlinger I do not try and win over the investigating officer’s goodwill with dinners and taking them to a cabaret, but then that is the difference between the two of us.

  “I am not going to play a role and take you for lunch because you and I are not friends, and I would not try to persuade you otherwise. You would immediately suspect something was not right.

  “I am what I am, Lafarge, you may not appreciate it but I am telling the truth when I say that Marguerite, while maybe evasive, denied any knowledge of seeing de Chastelain since their relationship ended.

  “Now I must join my guests at the Ritz for at the very least a proper espresso and a cognac, perhaps the equal of the one you shared so copiously with von Dirlinger last night,” said Bousquet in a firm tone that ended any further discussion apart from going through the formality of a cold farewell.

  Lafarge departed a troubled man. It wasn’t so much Bousquet’s unsubtle warnings, that he had expected and in fact he was pleased overall with the outcome of the meeting, first it was over and secondly he had emerged unscathed for the moment and more importantly still in charge of the investigation.

  No, what troubled Lafarge was that if Bousquet was indeed telling the truth about his conversation with Marguerite and she had intended on ending her relationship with von Dirlinger, then there was a clear motive, aside from the missing jewels, for the good colonel to have been the murderer.

  Now he was goodness knows where, because Lafarge had believed his version of events and allowed him to leave Paris, thinking he was innocent.

  The irony was not lost on Lafarge that the one person who was a suspect in the case and who he had liked, Mathilde aside, could very well be the man he should have arrested. If indeed that was the case, he had fallen for the old trick of keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. He had been royally played by von Dirlinger.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The train was rattling along under its own steam, that is gently passing through the outskirts of Paris and Lafarge was settled in a first class compartment. It had just two other occupants, a rather severe looking gentleman, bedecked in old style stiff winged collar and tailcoat, thoug
h by his facial expression, he was not off to a wedding but perhaps a banker’s meeting.

  The other passenger in his compartment was a youngish looking woman, well dressed in a tweed suit and a dark brown felt hat. She took the window seat opposite Lafarge but apart from a brief smile and a muttered good morning, that was all the social intercourse between them, as she then averted her gaze and somewhat wistfully stared out of the window.

  Lafarge was happy that neither she – nor the severe looking technocrat – were keen on conversation. He had a lot to read and even more to think about on what would be at best a seven hour trip, provided of course there was no disruption to the trip by either resistance activity or an air raid.

  He had packed a large suitcase because he realized that his pursuit of de Chastelain might take some time. He knew the elusive lawyer would not just drop into his lap and that he was going to an area of France that he knew little of and had never visited. However, he could not afford to fail as Bousquet had made it quite clear what the consequences would be were he to return without de Chastelain.

  While the compartment was relatively well heated – late summer mornings could be chilly – he kept his jacket on, for he did not wish to unduly concern his fellow passengers nor draw unwanted attention on himself as underneath he had his M1935A standard issue pistol strapped in a shoulder holster.

  Lafarge had also armed himself with a hip flask, cognac of course, and had fitted in three bottles into his suitcase as emergency supplies. He took a swig of the cognac and settled down to flick through the case dossier as well as some new information on the forensics of the bullet that had killed Marguerite.

  It wasn’t very conclusive in narrowing down his list of suspects as the type of gun used was the same one he was carrying.

  While it had ostensibly been originally solely for French use, the Germans had been so impressed that they had continued producing it in its factory in Alsace – at least there’s something apart from our women, drink, food and art that the Germans find useful, mused Lafarge sourly.