Flykiller

He would take a moment now, thought Ines. He would let them all think about it.

‘With the drowning, since quite obviously the victim was a little drunk, there could be little question among the investigating police. Death by misadventure. Later, however, my partner and I discovered what they’d failed to note: that Sandrine Richard had threatened to do just that to Mademoiselle Mailloux, and the evidence is that she and the other wives not only knew exactly where her husband’s lover would be but when.’

‘Get on with it!’ muttered Hebert.

Laval had brought along a bottle of his own wine and a glass, but had yet to light another cigarette or take a sip.

‘Ah bon, Monsieur Hebert,’ said Louis, unruffled. ‘With the second killing, that of Camille Lefebvre, there could be no such question: she was killed with a wire, similar to that which your grand-nephew uses for his snares. Monsieur le Secretaire General thought himself the target and so was born the myth of a Resistance threat, one that you, Doctor, wanted sown and encouraged.’

‘You’ll never prove it,’ snapped Menetrel.

‘I will if pressed,’ countered Louis. ‘Monsieur Bousquet fired two or three shots at the intruder or intruders, and then beat a hasty retreat to Paris, notifying no one of the killing.’

‘I really did think the terrorists were after me,’ grunted Bousquet. ‘Bernard, why couldn’t you have taken us into your confidence?’

‘Because, Secretaire, confidence is not the way of an eminence grise when plotting revenge.’

‘How dare you! Pierre, how can you sit there and let him …’

‘Bernard, be quiet,’ said Laval, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply.

‘A Resistance or terrorist plot to bump off the boys,’ said Louis. ‘Little for my partner and me to go on in the police reports and primary autopsies. Information withheld also by each of you, damning information, but …’

He’d let them think about that, too, thought Ines. She had chosen to sit on the edge of the fountain as far to one side as possible, but unfortunately Albert had again cosied up to her, and the Chief Inspector, though he was aware of this, had let it be.

‘But,’ he said, gesturing with the hand that held that pipe of his, ‘certainly the killer knew where Monsieur le Secretaire General and his mistress would spend the night. A cabin downriver, perfect isolation, and perfect for eliminating yet another of the flies.’

‘Informants. Why not call them that?’ demanded Menetrel.

Ignored … he’d be ignored, thought Kohler, squeezing the water out of his socks and draining each shoe. Examining the burns their last case had given him between the toes of his right foot. The Milice had done that with molten metal.

‘This killer,’ said Louis, ‘had his or her ear so close to the ground that he or she knew of everything you’d do well before it happened.’

‘Olivier,’ snapped Hebert.

‘We’ll come to him, monsieur. But … but what we failed to realize is that although others might or might not know everything in each case, someone other than the killer most definitely did, and so began a tug of wills we did not see until very recently. The killer determined to kill, while this other person hesitated to intervene for fear of revealing the very ear he used.’

‘You said he or she, and now use only he,’ interjected Menetrel.

‘Auguste-Alphonse Olivier,’ said Louis. ‘With the third killing, that of Lucie Trudel, there was the possibility that someone might have stopped the girl on her way home to the Hotel d’Allier at just after 5 a.m. I mention it only as a suggestion. We know the details of the killing, how savage it was, but had this other person, this shadow of yours, Monsieur Hebert, really tried to stop you?’

He turned away from them, began to lose himself in thought, tried this and that, arguing always. Then he said, ‘I want to think he must have, but of this I am far from sure. The girl either didn’t believe him or he thought it best to let her be, and allow her to escape to Paris. Tragically she invited her killer to enter her room.’

‘And with the fourth killing, Louis?’ said Kohler. ‘That of Celine Dupuis at about 10 p.m. on Tuesday, 2 February.’

‘Premier, you telexed and then telephoned Gestapo Boemelburg after you had viewed the body.’

‘I have it here, Louis,’ said Hermann. ‘“Flykiller slays mistress of high-ranking Government employee in Hall des Sources. Imperative you immediately send experienced detectives who are not from this district. Repeat, not from this district.”’

‘The whole business threatened to blow up in our faces,’ said Laval tersely. ‘A scandal – vans from the Bank of France, the girlfriends …’

‘Informants, Pierre!’ seethed Menetrel.

‘You said it, Bernard, not I who knew nothing of such a serious breach of security.’

‘Messieurs, a moment more,’ interjected Louis convivially. ‘Had you not also telephoned Gestapo Boemelburg, Premier, we might never have realized the ear this other person had, but you did.’

‘And L’Humanite published your name at the top of their latest list!’ shouted Hebert.