Flykiller

‘Are Menetrel’s men, the very ones who were among those who arrested me on 13 December 1940 after my first term here. Menetrel, of course, begged Petain to have them assassinate me, but Herr Abetz intervened. Now I employ them. That, too, is of Vichy. I insisted they guard me. One has to do things like that when one is Premier. Every day that they are with me they must worry about being killed in an assassination attempt that has not been of their own making, but also … Ah oui, mes chers detectives, they and that little doctor of ours are forced to realize not only the opportunity they missed but the mistake they would have made! Now, of course, if they were to kill me, they’d have no one.’

Merde alors, the wily peasant at heart! ‘And Bousquet and the others?’ asked St-Cyr – Hermann would leave him to deal with Laval.

‘Are worth saving if for no other reason than to hold together what’s left and prevent anarchy. No scandal is going to erupt out of what they’ve been up to. Shocking as it was, and a severe embarrassment to my Government, that little business venture of theirs has been stopped. You, in turn, will find the murderer or murderers of those girls and then quietly leave.’

‘And if it’s more than that?’

‘The Resistance? We’ll deal with it.’

‘And if it’s one or more of the boys?’

‘Then he or they will be dealt with.’

‘And if it’s the wives?’

‘Those too.’

‘And if it’s the doctor?’

Laval grinned.

‘Personally I would like nothing better than to present to the Marechal the proces-verbal his eminence grise had to sign under the stern gazes of a Surete and a Kripo that I, myself, had requested. What better an example of mutual cooperation between our two nations than for the General, the Vainqueur de Verdun, to acknowledge that our two police forces, united in the battle against common crime, have found my Flykiller? Of course, the lance corporal with the Iron Cross Second and First Class would appreciate it too. Even Herr Hitler has, I’m sure if one searched desperately enough for it, a certain sense of humour.’

From inside the Hall des Sources, where she stood next to frozen Kentia palms and near-dead, pollarded lime trees, Ines could see the workmen quite clearly as they scraped away the COURAGE ON LES AURA. Like blue-clad flies in winter, they were pinned to the tall, arched windows from whose delicate friezes long icicles hung, and where sheets of discoloured ice had lain beneath the artist’s brush, those segments of the letters rapidly vanished.

Beyond the workmen who faced her, others across the street at the Hotel du Parc had their backs to her, and wasn’t that also like Vichy? she asked herself. To confront, to shun, to erase the truth and turn the back on so many?

Laval, St-Cyr and Kohler had gone over to the Buvette du Chomel, to where Celine had been finally cornered and slain, but had she known her killer or killers? How had she got away from the one, only to then be trapped by the other? What words had been said? Last words …

Sandrine Richard stood near the entrance, perhaps not wishing to come closer for fear of betraying herself. And Blanche? asked Ines. Blanche was halfway between herself and the others but had found that she, too, could approach no closer.

Voices echoed. The detectives made no attempt to hide their questions or the answers given. Perhaps they did this to taunt her and the others, perhaps it was simply for expedience. Laval’s description of the corpse fitted Menetrel’s – St-Cyr acknowledged this. The Premier had, on crouching to examine the body, lost a button from one of his shoes and, having heard it clatter away, had searched for and found it, only to then find that its backing had slipped out and been lost.

Her hair had been gone through. Had he opened her nightgown? St-Cyr had asked – one of its ties had been snapped. ‘No had been the answer.’

‘Yet you moved her legs and hips,’ St-Cyr had challenged.

‘I had to,’ Monsieur le Premier had answered, lighting a fresh cigarette and erupting in a hacking cough.

‘Why didn’t you tell others of this?’ Herr Kohler had demanded. ‘Menetrel, certainly the investigating police?’

‘I didn’t want the doctor knowing I was concerned enough to have come in here to see her for myself. Convinced that it could well be a threat to Richard and the others, I personally telexed Gestapo Boemelburg requesting assistance and then telephoned him. Boemelburg agreed to my request and I told Secretaire General Bousquet that even though he was opposed to my choice of you both, he was to work closely with you.’

‘They’ve all tried to cover things up!’ said St-Cyr.

‘They had much to hide,’ countered the Premier.

‘Then what, please, other than another victim, another of your flies, convinced you of the threat?’

‘Yes, what?’ Ines heard Herr Kohler ask, and then …

Then from Laval, ‘There was a burnt matchstick, broken and left in the sign of a V.’

‘Ah merde, Hermann, now he tells us!’