Flykiller

‘From that one in particular, mon vieux. The one in the vermilion suit, the Indian brass and pearl necklace and the North African turban. That thing on her head is from Morocco, isn’t it? My eyes … The lack of vitamin A …’

And Auguste-Alphonse Olivier, the years 1924 and ’25 when the Victor of Verdun had been married to that one for four and then five years. ‘Wounded … Nom de Jesus Christ, Louis, that hatchet wouldn’t just have threatened Petain with his service revolver for fooling around on her, she’d have shot his balls off!’

‘Ah oui, certainement, but remember, please, that Menetrel warned us to leave her out of things.’

‘Then go and talk to her and let’s hope he’s not been scheming and dreaming behind our backs.’

They were still at their table, St-Cyr now standing and about to leave to talk to Madame Petain. ‘Inspectors, excuse me a moment, please. There … there is something I must tell you,’ said Ines. She would have to endure their suspicious gazes, she must! ‘The vomit Albert found in that toilet. It … it was mine, I think.’

‘Nom de Jesus Christ, Hermann, what the hell is it with Vichy? Does it bring out the liar, the arch-schemer, the thief, corrupter, cheat and killer in everyone we meet? Mademoiselle.’ Louis calmed himself. ‘Please explain yourself.’

‘Yesterday morning, after Dr Menetrel had come to find you in the foyer of the Hotel du Parc, but before I went to see Celine’s body for myself and Herr Kohler was surprised to find me in the Hall, I was so upset I … I had to throw up. Albert must have seen me dash into that outdoor toilet. The men were clearing the snow. Has he confused me with her killer and is this why he feels I’m such a threat? It must be. It must!’

‘She did look like death warmed over, Louis. I thought … Ah! that the iron man and his flash were what had made her so pale.’

‘And sickly? Talk to her, then, Hermann. Try to force yourself to wring every last drop of juice out of this grape, but if she lies, give her a pair of bracelets to wear and throw the key away! You are not leaving us, mademoiselle. From now until the close of this investigation, you are staying with us!’

‘That might not be possible, Louis.’

‘Possible or not, she has just given us information we should have had long ago!’

‘I didn’t kill her. I can have had nothing to do with any of the killings.’

‘But for some as yet unknown reason, mademoiselle, Albert Grenier has come to consider you a threat.’

‘Yes, but he’s confused. The knife dropped in there after her killing, the vomit only yesterday – you yourselves and your questions … questions are always very difficult for one such as he is. The portrait mask … Perhaps I shouldn’t have shown it to him. Maybe he has confused it with death. I … I don’t know. Really, I don’t.’

The kid was desperate. ‘Louis, for her to have come forward like this took courage. Go and talk to the ladies. Leave this one to me.’

‘With pleasure!’

The tightly bound, Moorish turban, a lame of irregular patches of ochreous silk on a crimson background with thin, interlaced black lines, had flashes of silver everywhere. Beneath it, the wrinkled, well-powdered brow was further creased by a ruthlessly plucked and defiantly raised eyebrow, the expression accusative, the nose prominent, the lips wide, grimly pursed and turned down in distaste, the wrinkled upper lip, jaw and jowls fierce, the broad shoulders squared.

Formidable, thought St-Cyr, as he introduced himself, but then … then one of Houbigant’s scents delicately emanated from her. A woman of great taste …

‘Well?’ demanded Madame la Marechale. ‘Why have you released the one and not arrested the other?’ At sixty-six years of age, Eugenie Hardon-Petain could still defy time, but this one, he felt, would fight it to the end. Large teardrops of pearl, ruby and brass, one on either side and curving inwardly, flanked the many strands as if the necklace was a breastplate of office and she the female counterpart of the Wehrmacht’s Kettehhunde.

‘Albert Grenier is constantly confused, madame, and for some reason feels the sculptress is a threat to your husband. But since she is to remain with my partner and me at all times, and his father is looking after him, the boy is no longer a threat.’

‘And the other?’ she demanded fiercely.

It would be best to appear simple-minded. ‘Who?’

‘Nom de Dieu, are we to expect this from a chief inspector with an enviable reputation? Enviable, I say, if one is not guilty! Hebert, of course. That fornicateur deliberately introduced those girls to Bousquet and the other. He made certain they were tempted!’

‘The girls or the boys, madame?’