Merle: A French murder mystery (A Jacques Forêt Mystery Book 2)

by Angela Wren

  As he walked back to his bike, Jacques wondered about the fragment of the letter. If all of the correspondence had been kept, as Madame Vaux alleged, then why put a fragment of a letter in a place that he would find it. And why now?

  He put his helmet on and straddled the bike. More importantly, who wants me to find this and for what purpose? He shook his thoughts from his mind, started the engine and made his way back to his own office. He had some more checking to do and Eloise Lapointe was the target.

  thursday, october 29th, 4.47am

  The streets of Mende were deserted as a black-clad figure carrying a large rucksack took a left off Boulevard de Soubeyran, then turned into a quiet courtyard and halted at the corner of the building.

  No lights. No sound. Just like before.

  Cat-like, the figure moved silently across the courtyard, removed the rucksack and set it down quietly. Gloved hands removed a cloth and a knife from a jacket pocket. The cloth, soft and thick, was placed on the exterior sill. The knife began to work at the decayed putty around a pane of glass in the window. A strip of tape was taken from another pocket at the front of the jacket and the waxed paper backing carefully prised away as the tape was stuck from the centre of the pane up to the rib of the window and then further onto the pane above. The next three sides were treated in the same way. The knife was put away again and from a pocket in the black combats a slim pair of pliers were retrieved. The pins anchoring the pane in place were teased out one by one and placed side by side on the sill. One hand rested against the glass to keep it from falling. The other hand gently peeled the top piece of tape away, then the left and right and then, as the glass was controlled and allowed to come away from the frame, the final piece of tape was silently lifted and the glass was free, resting on the cloth. The pins were collected together and rolled into the corner of the cloth which was then wrapped around the pane and placed out of the way on the floor. The interior catch was opened and the two sides of the window teased open. The rucksack was lifted, passed through the opening and gently lowered to the floor. Two hands on the sill, body levered up, and the black-clad figure climbed into the room. I’m in.

  The only light came from the street lamps at the front, filtered through the windows and the frosted glass of the door between the back room and the shop front. Best keep down. Two sidesteps right and into the corner by the window and Luciole was safe from prying eyes.

  Corner of the room. That’s best. Always the corner of a room. His hand reached out and felt the wall. Dry. Very dry. Steel grey eyes stared above. Wooden beams. Perfect. I can change them. I can use them and I can destroy them. He looked down. Dust. Months and months of dust and bone dry paper.

  Working quickly, he unbuckled the rucksack and removed a flat-packed cardboard box. In seconds the box was opened up and placed in the corner of the room. He drew a set of matches and a rag from a front pocket on the bag. The rucksack was inverted over the box and dozens and dozens of packets of crisps were allowed to slip into the space to make a neat pyrotechnic pyramid. The dry rag was added at the apex. Matches and then the burn.

  The first match lit immediately. Applied to the rag, and a dancing yellow flame appeared. A second match, another flame. And another. Burn… The steel grey eyes widened as the smell of the embryo fire was inhaled. Burn…

  His feet on the window sill, empty bag in hand, and a single, silent jump to the ground outside. Windows pushed closed again and the pane of glass collected and stuffed in the bag. Run and hide…

  Run but stay close enough to hear and smell the burn.

  ***

  The pillar of smoke rising from the centre of Mende could be seen for miles. The acrid smell of burning filled the air. Beth stood at the end of the street. Gendarmes were in place to keep back the curious as the fire crews drenched the building. A number of other properties on either side had been evacuated and their inhabitants could now only watch and wait. Jacques recognised an ex-colleague and strolled across to speak to him for a moment and then returned.

  “The seat of the fire appears to be at the back, but Gendarme Lefevre is going to ask one of the officers to talk to us at the next change-over of crew. There’s nothing we can do. I’ve told him that we’ll be in the café on Boulevard du Soubeyran.”

  “Monsieur Forêt?” The fire officer, his heavy protective clothing reeking of smoke, his boots leaving a wet trail on the floor as he approached, removed his glove and shook Jacques’ hand and nodded to Beth. “I understand you have an interest in the property.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I was about to take on the lease so that I could set up a photographic studio here. Luckily, although I’ve signed the paperwork, I haven’t handed it over yet. But I was wondering what the damage was and how long it might take to repair?”

  The fireman removed his other glove and helmet and sat opposite her. “I think you should look for another property. The fire started in the corner of the back room and spread up the walls, across to the window frame and over the ceiling. The wooden beams are badly damaged, part of the ceiling has come down, and there is some damage to the floor above as well as the consequent water damage.”

  “Was the fire deliberate, do you think?”

  “I’m not really qualified to say, Monsieur Forêt, but, from what I have seen, I am certain there will be an investigation.”

  “Will it take long?”

  “No, Madame, as soon as we have finished damping down, the building will be secured and another officer will undertake the investigation. Any conclusions will be reported to the police, the building owners and insurers, as appropriate. What happens after that will all depend on the conclusions of the investigation. If it is arson, there could be a lengthy police investigation. It’s hard to say.”

  Beth smiled weakly and nodded as the fire fighter got up and left. “Why would someone do this? And if the fire was started deliberately…”

  “We don’t know that yet.” A cloud of suspicion drifted across his mind as he led Beth out of the café. He still didn’t know who was behind the insidious notes that kept appearing on his desk in his absence. Whilst the content of these had not been directly threatening, they were certainly taunting. Just one step away from a direct threat which is one step away from action. He shook the thought from his mind as they walked in silence to the car.

  ***

  At the back of the building another little crowd had gathered and was being held at bay by more gendarmes who were unaware that the fire starter had returned. Skulking in the shadows, Luciole looked out from under his favourite dark green hoodie that hid the black jacket. He had been there since the first fire crew arrived. The light in his grey eyes had not dimmed at all. The rapid breathing had barely slowed and the taste of burning was still in his mouth. When the wood slats in the walls and the beams in the ceiling had pyrolysed the taste had morphed from harsh melting polymers to the sweetness of oak mixed with pine and smoke. From his original hiding place, he’d heard the faint crackle of the flames as they moved over the walls, the tinkle of the remaining glass in the windows as it stressed and fractured in the heat. The piercing whine of the sirens had meant it was time to come out and watch.

  Luciole was watching still.

  ***

  “I’ll work at home today,” said Jacques as they let themselves in to the chalet. “I’ve got some digging to do and I can easily do that here.”

  Beth sank down on a stool at the breakfast bar. “I can’t stop asking myself why? Why would anyone do that? What have I done to make someone want to destroy someone else’s property?”

  Jacques took a deep breath. “Don’t think like that…and if you want to know the truth, I don’t think it’s you that is the target, Beth. I think it’s me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been getting threatening notes at work. They started just after I began this investigation and they have continued. I think someone is feeling the pressure and torching the property you wanted to use is a tactic to
stop me asking more questions.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Jacques sat down next to her. “I’m going to keep on investigating. I have to. I know from speaking to Philippe Chauvin that someone within the Vaux Group is actively working to destroy the company’s credibility. I need to find that person and I will. And I intend to keep you safe. From today I don’t want you going anywhere without me.”

  ***

  At her desk in the loft area, Beth began sorting through the box files of photographs that she had collected from Old Thierry. She stacked the files on the bookshelves in date order and then picked out the first one from May 1938. The contents were carefully ordered, dated and the subject of each photograph was detailed on the back. This is going to be easy!

  An hour later and she hadn’t been able to make up her mind which of the many shots to choose.

  ***

  In the dining area Jacques was going through the phone records. The number that Madeleine had denied any knowledge of didn’t come up on any of the other Vaux employees’ statements. He dialled it and waited for it to be answered. It was just left ringing. Realising that he was using his company phone, he reasoned that the call might not have been picked up because the owner of the phone might have his number in their contacts list. He took out his personal mobile and dialled again. The call was not picked up. When he tried again five minutes later, the phone was switched off.

  “Whoever you are, it appears that you only answer calls from a specific number. Hmmm…probably a pay as you go, I should think.”

  He picked up his phone and dialled another number. “Thibault, I need a favour… I need to trace a number… It’s a mobile and yes, I do know that I shouldn’t be asking you to do this for me, but I can give you a very good reason…” He read out the number and thanked his ex-colleague.

  Returning his attention to the phone records, he realised that there was no printout for Eloise Lapointe. He rang Michelle in HR.

  “I was wondering what had happened to the statement for Mademoiselle Lapointe’s phone… Why doesn’t she use one? … Has she never had a company mobile?” Jacques listened with incredulity. “Everyone has a mobile… So how does she keep in touch with the office when she’s out?” He frowned. “And you’re certain she doesn’t have a personal mobile either… And if she is sick how does she inform you that she won’t be in?” He listened as Michelle explained that Mademoiselle Lapointe had only ever taken three periods of sick leave during her time with the Vaux Group, and on each occasion her neighbour had telephoned to let them know. Jacques ended the call. Eloise has no mobile phone!

  He sprinted up to the loft area. “Beth, I just want to run something by you. Mademoiselle Lapointe doesn’t use a company mobile phone and according to Michelle in HR she doesn’t use a personal one either. She has never submitted any claims for reimbursement of the cost of business calls. In addition, she has no landline at home.”

  Beth pushed her hair back behind her ears and thought for a moment.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to be constantly contactable. Around the time Dan died, and just after, I switched my phone off and left it in a drawer. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone at all. Perhaps she wants to keep her business relationships completely separate from her personal life. Is that really so strange?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “There is another scenario, perhaps she does have one but only gives the number to specific people she wants to use it and work colleagues are not on that list.”

  “Hmm…” He sprinted back down the stairs.

  All the work on the printouts finished and his notebook filled with follow-up questions, Jacques made a space on the dining table for his laptop. He set it running and used his remote log-in to access the surveillance camera footage from the previous day. He knew what he was looking for and he scrolled through to late morning and watched the screen. Half an hour later he paused the video and grabbed his notebook. “That’s interesting. It would seem Aimée is right.” He replayed it again.

  surveillance camera footage

  Hélène and Madeleine are in full view.

  28/10/2009 11.27.04

  “I’m not happy about Forêt delving into all the personnel files.” Hélène shoves her hands into her coat pockets.

  28/10/2009 11.27.18

  “Just keep a cool head. I know how to handle Jacques.”

  “But you know he phoned my previous employers, don’t you? He knows about the false declaration on my application for the job in Rouen.”

  28/10/2009 11.27.39

  “It won’t take him long to find out about the investigation in Paris that was being conducted against me because of an allegation of harassment and intimidation.”

  28/10/2009 11.27.52

  “That investigation was stopped. I stopped it before I left.”

  “How can you be sure he doesn’t already know about it?”

  28/10/2009 11.28.13

  “Knowing Jacques, he probably already does know about it. He’ll be saving that little nugget for another day when he can unsettle you further.”

  28/10/2009 11.28.28

  “But how did he find out, Madeleine, if you stopped the investigation?” Hélène casts Madeleine an angry look.

  28/10.2009 11.28.46

  “There will still be the original paperwork, Hélène, which anyone with the right authority can access. It’s not rocket science! Even you must be able to work that out?”

  28/10/2009 11.29.07

  Hélène, face in view, glares at her boss. “So, what else will he find?”

  “Whatever’s there. He’s an ex-policeman, Hélène, and he won’t stop until he has found every possible scrap of detail that he needs.”

  28/10/2009 11.29.22

  “You need to keep your mouth shut from here on and think before you speak, and stop wasting my time.”

  28/10/2009 11.29.39

  friday, october 30th

  The hire car was a small hatchback, but comfortable enough. Beth was glad she had made the suggestion. Her car, with its English plates and right-hand drive, would have been too noticeable and would have easily drawn unwanted attention. They were parked in the public car park just to one side of the Vaux Investigations building. Here, Jacques had a clear view of the side road opposite that linked with Boulevard Théophile Roussel, which would be Madeleine’s only access to her route to Rodez once she had left the underground car park of her own building.

  “Make sure you get a clear shot of the car, including number plate and her driving as she comes out of the side street. With any luck the traffic will mean that she has to wait for a few moments.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Beth. “Where are you expecting her to go?”

  “According to her and the expenses claims she’s been making she’s going to Rodez, so she should take the first right off the ring road into Avenue Foch. But we’ll see.”

  Beth looked at Jacques. He was watching the junction, never letting his attention waver. As the engine idled in readiness to follow Madeleine when she appeared, Beth wondered what she would look like.

  “You’ve never told me much about Madeleine, you know.”

  Jacques glanced at her for a split second. “There’s not that much to tell.” His attention focussed on the junction again.

  “But it is her, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I’ll answer anything you want to know later. Just not now. That’s her!”

  Beth had her camera ready, lined it up and took one shot after another.

  Jacques reversed out of the parking spot and moved towards the exit. Madeleine pulled onto the boulevard and immediately into the left-hand lane.

  “Just as I thought, she’s not going to Rodez.” Jacques slotted into the same lane a couple of cars behind her. The traffic was beginning to get heavy in preparation for the lunchtime rush home. They moved slowly through the one-way system, onto Boulevard Henri Bourrillon and finally, out of the city centre on Avenue
Père Coudrin and north on the N88 towards Langogne. Jacques kept well back and followed Madeleine through to Le Puy-en-Velay and an apartment block in one of the best suburbs in the city.

  As soon as they pulled up, Beth was ready with her camera and caught Madeleine leaving the car, locking it and entering the building. Jacques was out of the car and following on foot. Beth kept her eyes on the entrance to the building.

  A second car arrived and parked in a space next to Madeleine’s. Following Jacques’ instructions, she took shots of the car, the male driver who got out and continued to take photos as he made his way into the same building.

  A few moments later, Jacques reappeared. “She took the lift to the sixth floor,” he said as he got back into the driver’s seat. He took his notebook out of his pocket and as he read the names from the eight mail boxes for that floor he rewrote them in print on a clean page.

  “How do you know who she’s visiting?”

  “I don’t, but I will when I’ve checked out who these people are and who is registered at each of those apartments on that floor.”

  Beth set her camera on the dashboard so that it was within easy reach should she need it. “There was a man who arrived just after Madeleine. He parked next to her and then went inside.”

  “I heard someone coming, and I ran up the first flight of stairs and then came back down again. Did you get a shot of him?”

  “Yes, I took a number of photos.”

  “According to the display above the lift door, he also went to the 6th floor.”

  “Does that mean something important?”

  Jacques smiled at her. “It might. At the moment, it just means that he also went to the same floor. He may be visiting someone, or he may live here. I won’t know until I check.”

  “Why do you never talk about her?”