Flykiller

‘My boys grew up with this, too,’ said Herr Kohler, having only glanced at her papers. He did not explain further, this giant with the cruel scar, but was, Ellinor said to herself, much saddened. Had he lost someone dear? she wondered.

He opened the little drawer of her bedside table but found no prayerbook or Bible, though the rest of her family were still staunchly Lutheran. He said, ‘I remember Strasbourg as being a lovely city. Number 42 rue des Hallebardes … the street of the pikes with the battleaxes at one end … It’s near the cathedral, your home?’

What did he want of her? she wondered. He had such a way with him. Easy-going and then suddenly he’d be after something, but would sometimes come at it obliquely. ‘It’s right in the cathedral’s shadow, Herr Inspektor.’

‘Born 7 September 1925. That was quite a year.’

He gave no further explanation of why the year of her birth had been so notable, but leafed through the thin pile of letters from home in that drawer, found her pessary and took it out, found the jar of petroleum jelly, too, and a clutch of Kondoms and, laying them with the other things, said, ‘Four have been murdered, so you know why we’re here and had best answer truthfully. Is that understood?’

There was nothing in his pale blue eyes but an unsettling emptiness. ‘I know little, Herr Inspektor. The girls of whom you speak were informants, yes, but Herr Schleier was always wondering if they had given him everything they had overheard their lovers say when among themselves. Marie-Jacqueline seemed to treat it all as a joke – saying the pay was never enough for such a risk, and she constantly threatened to go on strike even though Herr Schleier could have had her taken away to one of the Konzentrationslager. Camille Lefebvre was quite possibly the best, he thought. Everything of interest that Bousquet said in her company she would dutifully report in hopes that her husband would be freed and sent home, but that was not possible, though we were to continue to encourage her to think it was. Lucie Trudel had much to offer also and often brought papers and documents from the bank, but of late, she and the others had become “hesitant”, he said, and needed to be reminded.’

Louis should have heard that. ‘And Celine Dupuis?’

‘Did not like reporting things at all and gave Herr Schleier much cause for concern. She was always asking when she would be permitted to leave Vichy and return to her daughter in Paris as promised.’

Then Celine, in addition to being very worried about being murdered, had realized the other just wasn’t going to work and had agreed to give Petain his little moment … ‘Were they recruited before or after they’d first taken up with their lovers?’

‘After, of course. It’s not hard, is it, to convince such girls to cooperate once they know what could happen not only to them but to their families? Temptation is also dangled but only as a sweetener.’

This kid was really something. ‘And are the others who come here required to report what they overhear?’

Was he thinking of the rest of the cabaret singers and dancers, or of Blanche and Paul Varollier? ‘The four who were killed were the most important and were recruited long before the Gestapo had an office here but, yes, the others also. Herr Schleier, you understand, does not report directly to Herr Gessler, but only to his superior officer, Herr Abetz.’

Whom the SS and SD seldom if ever listened to!

‘You collect goldene Zigarrenbande,’ he said, having opened her tin to fish about in it with a nicotine-stained forefinger.

‘A few, for Albert Grenier when he comes. Blanche usually brings him when Monsieur Hebert or Frau Nietz, our German cook and housekeeper, feel it necessary. This old place …’ She shrugged. ‘We can’t have vermin, can we? Albert should be sent away, I know, but … but he’s very good at his job, so they must keep him, I think.’

‘And on the night of 24 October last was Albert busy here?’

Had Albert watched – was this what the detective was wondering? Albert who had secretly been in love with each of those girls and had been so ashamed of them for their having had sex with men who were not their husbands. Sex like animals. ‘He was asleep in the chapel. Monsieur Hebert has a straw mattress brought in for him and the bed made up. Albert always sleeps there when he visits. It’s close to the kitchens and the main staircase to the cellars, and is “safe”, he says, but he never looks at any of us. He’s very shy, isn’t he, as well as being … well, mentally retarded.’

‘And Hebert and Albert, how do they get along?’