The Tortured Detective

by Pirate Irwin

  “And Mathilde never entered the room? I mean she can’t support your claim?” asked Lafarge, leaning forward as if this was the crucial moment as to whether he turned him over or not.

  De Chastelain sensed this, Lafarge could see, as his demeanour took on a downcast look.

  “I am afraid not, no. She never came into the apartment. I ran upstairs and told her what I had seen and told her to stay where she was as there was no point her getting involved,” he said forlornly.

  Lafarge could tell he was telling the truth vis–a–vis that and resolved to honour his word and hand him over to Gerland’s men were they to show up, but he wasn’t going to tell him that now.

  There still remained questions over his role in the burglary. Besides he was enjoying in a sadistic way the fact de Chastelain was co–operating because he was afraid and there was no sign of the insufferable self–confident persona he usually adopted.

  “Very well, and it was from there that you made your way to Drieu’s place?” asked Lafarge.

  “Yes, I was as you can imagine very upset at seeing Marguerite in that state and I didn’t think too clearly about where or to whom I would go to.

  “I couldn’t stay there because if I was found, despite my protestations of innocence I was already a fugitive. Bousquet would also have realized that I could well have been in the building and seen him,” said de Chastelain mournfully.

  “There was little option but to flee and hope I found sanctuary somewhere before getting out of Paris. I thought of Drieu finally because he remained a friend despite our enormous differences. Also he would be the last person anyone would think of who would help a fugitive flee from the Nazis or the police.

  “At least I got that bit right!” he remarked bitterly.

  Lafarge nodded and mused what a funny fellow Drieu was. An arch collaborator but unlike many of his fellow travellers one who remained friends with those who ideologically were totally opposite to him. De Chastelain and André Malraux were too such examples, although his close friendship with the communist poet Louis Aragon had not survived.

  “Very well, that chapter is closed. However, don’t believe for one moment you can relax, de Chastelain. There are other questions regarding the burglary of the diamonds and your association with the unfortunate Arnaud Lescarboura and Marguerite, a collusion that may very well have brought about her death,” said Lafarge brusquely.

  De Chastelain looked alarmed at this and as if to prepare himself, asked if he could be excused to go to the bathroom. Lafarge said he could but he would accompany him to the door.

  “I’m not going to jump out of a train in the dark for God’s sake Lafarge!” he protested but to no avail as Lafarge dangled handcuffs in front of him as an alternative.

  Ten minutes later, they were back in the compartment, having shuffled back without seeing a soul, the other first class compartments had their blinds down as their occupants enjoyed unlike them a peaceful night’s sleep.

  Lafarge took the opportunity to open a bottle of red wine this time, not the right order at all, but he hadn’t felt it was fair to divest Gerland of a second bottle of Armagnac. There were limits after all to his generosity.

  “Right. Tell me how you came up with this bizarre idea to go the way of so many of your clients and become a common criminal by robbing the Countess?” asked Lafarge.

  De Chastelain scratched his clean shaven chin and closed his eyes as he looked for the least inculpatory answer but there was none.

  “Alright, theft doesn’t bring one a death sentence. Well at least it didn’t and even the Nazis don’t normally impose such a sentence for it. So yes I was part of the burglary with Arnaud and Marguerite,” said de Chastelain.

  “Just the three of you? You were the puppeteer and the other two were your puppets?” asked Lafarge, sensing that there was someone else at the very least involved.

  De Chastelain looked uncomfortable with the question, gulping back the red wine and smoking two cigarettes before he would answer it.

  “Is it important? I mean, the three of us are big enough no? Lescarboura is banged up, Marguerite is dead and you have me,” he said, his voice losing its confident air.

  “Of course it is important. The very thing you just said highlights how important it is, for none of you who played an active role in the burglary are now at liberty. Indeed one of them, the person you loved the most in the world, is dead because the mastermind or the masterminds wished it so, and the diamonds have gone missing,” said Lafarge.

  De Chastelain’s face clouded over with grief and also concern as he sought to extricate himself from a situation where there was very little to gain from it for him.

  “Listen, if it will make it any easier for you to say the name, I will tell you that your unfortunate client Lescarboura nodded when I asked him whether Bousquet was involved. He was just as frightened as you seem to be and lord, he was actually in prison, you by contrast are not surrounded by aggressive guards or listening devices,” said Lafarge trying to encourage him to come clean.

  De Chastelain’s face froze at this.

  “Arnaud said that? I’m amazed, you must possess some sort of hypnotic powers that I didn’t give you credit for, Lafarge! Well why then would Bousquet wish me to be arrested?” asked de Chastelain.

  “I don’t know but I would like you to tell me,” replied Lafarge fixing him with a firm gaze.

  De Chastelain hadn’t, it seemed, expected Lafarge to throw it back at him, for his self satisfied grin disappeared quickly.

  “Wow, you must really not care about your job at all, Lafarge! Or you hate Bousquet more than your job security,” said de Chastelain incredulously.

  “I’m just a professional detective doing my job. Not enough of us are doing that these days but I still have a sense of duty and integrity regardless of what you think my motives are,” said Lafarge cooly.

  De Chastelain eyed him warily, and swept back his hair in a bid to cover the fact that, as Lafarge had observed, his hands were shaking and it certainly wasn’t for want of drink as they had had a plentiful amount.

  “Lafarge I don’t think I dislike you enough to give you the information that would enlighten you on the subject but at the same time consign you to an early grave,” said de Chastelain.

  “Try me!” said Lafarge in a firm tone that left no room for de Chastelain to wriggle out of.

  De Chastelain smiled grimly and held his hands up.

  “Okay Lafarge. I will tell you all that I know regarding the jewel theft. It is a pretty sordid tale and one that doesn’t make me proud with my involvement in it, but even the most honest of people appear to be losing their sense of right and wrong these days,” said de Chastelain.

  Lafarge thought to himself, what a self–righteous prig, taking him to task for resuming his duties as a policeman when he was going around committing crimes.

  “I am an admirer of the Countess de Marchand but my passion for Marguerite was such that any other feelings were secondary. Thus I thought if I could successfully steal her jewels and sell them on, then I would have the money to make a secure future for myself and Marguerite, and wrest her away from the German.

  “All she ever sought was security. Hence why she ditched me because she was afraid that my defending perceived enemies of the state she would be implicated by association and lose any chance of furthering her acting career.

  “Thus I thought I would bring the plan to her thereby enlisting the services of Lescarboura and with his expert criminal skills I would succeed in both my goals.

  “I must admit the idea of getting her to invite the Countess to dinner was a sweet touch by me. It gave us both alibis as well as my chance to play one off against the other as they were both terribly in love with me,” said de Chastelain, positively warming to the task of talking himself up.

  “Were in love with you,” said Lafarge taking him down a peg or two.

  De Chastelain looked angry at this remark but collected himself and continu
ed with his account.

  “Well everything went terrifically well up to the point that Marguerite then confided in me that she had let slip to the German colonel, and he to Bousquet, about the plan,” said de Chastelain, his tone turning bitter.

  “No doubt you are wondering why would she go and do something like that. Well obviously it was this sense of security she sought. She was afraid that there was a chance of being caught so if she had the support of her colonel and Bousquet all would be alright.

  “In a sense she was correct, regarding herself. But it meant a smaller share of the booty for all of us and evidently she saw no future with me.”

  Lafarge mulled over the detail and saw that this band of thieves certainly had no honour, what a mixed bag they were.

  The insecure starlet, the professional burglar devoted to his childhood friend, the former lover and self–righteous lawyer, determined to win back her love, the playboy intelligence Abwehr colonel, outwardly charming and carefree, and towering over them the careerist opportunistic head of French police Bousquet.

  No wonder de Chastelain was so sought after by that duo, for he was the last of the dispensable three still at large. Both von Dirlinger and Bousquet had placed a great deal of faith in Lafarge and his renowned sense of duty, not to them but to his job, to bring them back the missing piece.

  “Did you ever all meet together to sort out the finer details of the burglary?” asked Lafarge.

  De Chastelain looked at him with an astonished look on his face.

  “What all five of us? Hardly! It would likely have ended in a murder,” he said sardonically.

  “An unfortunate choice of words there. I think it did, don't you?” retorted Lafarge.

  De Chastelain nodded realising his gaffe.

  “So how do you know that both Bousquet and von Dirlinger were implicated in the plan?” asked Lafarge pressing for something more concrete than he had been given so far.

  “Marguerite told me so, and I have no reason to doubt her word on that. Of course it may have been a ruse to scare me off from going through with the plan, but she was most insistent that they knew and what they wanted as their share,” replied de Chastelain, his voice firm.

  “But I don't understand why a rich man like Bousquet and it appears von Dirlinger isn't short of cash either would risk their reputations on a high profile burglary,” said Lafarge.

  “Hell I don't know Lafarge. You can only ask them when you present your evidence, though, I don't envy you that task!” said de Chastelain acidly.

  Lafarge grunted and silently agreed with him that the task ahead was going to be an unenviable one but he was determined to see it through.

  “One thing surprises me above all else Lafarge, and there are many things that surprise me about this case, and that is why Bousquet has put you in charge of the investigation when we both know that your mutual dislike dates back years,” said de Chastelain, his tone taking on a suspicious note.

  “I mean he must realise that if you captured me alive you wouldn't sit on a train for several hours idling away the hours with tittle tattle and drinking sociably with someone he knows you despise. No he is counting on you posing questions surrounding the murder.”

  Lafarge had to agree with de Chastelain again.

  He had been aware of this from the start or at least once he discovered the cigarette case, but he couldn't understand why Bousquet would allow him to continue the investigation. Unless of course he was innocent of the murder and he didn't think he would widen the enquiry to include the burglary.

  Surely, though, he and von Dirlinger had taken into account that de Chastelain might divulge details to Lafarge that could embroil them in an almighty scandal.

  They were if nothing else both intelligent men, which made Lafarge fearful of what might await them at Gare d’Austerlitz.

  For whilst he had not phoned to say he had de Chastelain he had little doubt that once de Blaeckere returned from his raid he would note his absence and alert Bousquet. The secretary–general would, if he were not too occupied with his matter of state, work out which train they were on and when it arrived in Paris.

  However, with the diamonds still apparently missing, hence Bonny’s surprising intrusion at the apartment, de Chastelain had some currency still to keep him alive in case he knew where they were.

  Or von Dirlinger and Bousquet hoped that if he would not tell them, then he would inform Lafarge. That was a bargaining chip to keep in storage for the undoubtedly tough times to come.

  “So tell me, how come you all fell out so quickly?” asked Lafarge intrigued as to the circumstances of this unholy quintet’s falling out.

  De Chastelain smiled but the lack of mirth in his eyes told a different story.

  “Because unfortunately, you are not the only diligent cop in Paris,” said de Chastelain.

  Lafarge raised his eyebrows and leaned forward.

  “A detective called Purevoy was assigned the case and quickly picked up Lescarboura, a man whose talents he was already a connoisseur of. It was too late for Bousquet to intervene as the paperwork was done and the fool was in custody.

  “Lescarboura logically thought I would be the best man to defend him, given my intimate knowledge of the case, and I accepted, primarily because I was very keen to find out where the missing diamonds were.

  “He knew as little as I did about where they were, and so I contacted Marguerite and threatened that at the trial I would make sweeping allegations about her lover and Bousquet. Faithful as ever to her protectors she duly relayed the information to them and from that moment I was a marked man.

  “Hence Bousquet’s piece de theatre surrounding my arrest. However, for some unknown reason the German intervened and hijacked it. It appears that not even those two powerful men could stick together,” commented de Chastelain drily.

  Lafarge smiled, though, his heart was beating double its usual rate for the information he had succeeded in extricating from de Chastelain was astonishing.

  It could destroy the careers of two men, one of them one of the most powerful men in France and seen as a potential replacement for Laval while the latter, the German's pet French bulldog, replaced the octogenarian Pétain.

  However, it was also extremely dangerous information to possess and he could see that he too was expendable if he was to hand him over to Bousquet’s men.

  For he was dealing with two callous characters, one of whom was possibly a murderer, though that was a moot point as both had enough blood on their hands already.

  This was different, though, as both were suspects in personally murdering Marguerite, not just signing a paper condemning a person not known personally to them to death.

  However, as they had both fallen out with each other, that remained like the missing diamonds, a potential bargaining counter were things to become extremely tricky.

  The only thing he could do for the moment was to ensure de Chastelain’s safety, Lescarboura the poor sod was beyond his help wherever he was, and pray that one day the case came to trial.

  “Do you think that von Dirlinger saved you only to set you up for Marguerite’s murder?” Lafarge asked after a pause.

  “But of course Lafarge. I haven’t heard of too many philanthropic gestures by Germans have you during this war,” replied de Chastelain sardonically.

  Lafarge nodded in agreement and looked out the window. Noticing that it was getting lighter and that they must be nearing Paris, he decided to tell de Chastelain what their course of action would be.

  “Obviously I should be taking you straight to Quai des Orfèvres. However, I think that this would be the worst solution to our problems.

  “Thus this is what is going to happen, or at least I hope will unfold when we arrive at Austerlitz. There will be two men there to greet us and they will take you away to a safe house, where you will lie low. I will come for you later and tell you how you are going to leave the country.

  “Obviously should the Allies fail to liberate F
rance, then I would recommend you never return, and I will expect our meeting at the safe house to be our last, for I doubt I shall see my way to retirement.

  “You needn’t worry about the two men who will take you away as they have been organised by Gerland and so are trustworthy. I will explain to Bousquet why you are no longer with me. I will of course relate some of what you have told me. It promises as you said earlier to be a stormy meeting,” said Lafarge smiling sadly.

  De Chastelain looked stunned at Lafarge’s plan, but then in an equally surprising gesture he held out his hand. Lafarge somewhat reluctantly took it and then they shook before filling their glasses and toasting each other, in what was their first ever convivial drink over a period of jousting of a decade or more.

  Lafarge refrained from telling him that Bousquet’s men might also be there but he assumed that de Chastelain already thought they would be.

  “Look, I know friendship between us is not a term one would use but while I see a jewel thief in front of me I also see at heart a man of integrity, though prone to defending those who are indefensible.

  “However, sometimes one must make compromises, especially nowadays, and while it is a first for me to let a self–avowed criminal escape, and I won’t make a habit of it, this is a case of good against evil and we are on the right side,” said Lafarge.

  De Chastelain laughed and patted him on the knee, the realisation he wasn't being tricked and would indeed be given a chance of escaping releasing all the tension in the compartment.

  “No don’t make a habit of it Lafarge, you wouldn’t want anyone to think you are a bent cop!

  “I appreciate enormously your gesture, I know it doesn’t guarantee that I will escape from the country, but I am eternally grateful for this opportunity.

  “You too are a damn fine policeman, a bit self important, distant and priggish, but maybe you are softening. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone!” said de Chastelain, laughing heartily.

  The laughter died down and de Chastelain paused before he broached a subject that had obviously been gnawing away at him.