Flykiller

‘A happy family man, eh, Rene?’ he said, looking steadily at Bousquet. ‘One who adores his only child and daughter and dearly loves his wife, so doesn’t fool around with those of others. But if you are as well informed as I think you are, Inspectors, you will also be aware that my Jeanne often refers to the distinct possibility of Madame Petain’s having Jewish blood in her family, whereas that good woman constantly refers to me behind my back as “that Moroccan carpet dealer”, or even “that Jamaick” – that Jamaican – she having dug that last one up from my days as a schoolboy more than fifty years ago.’

‘An eminence grise,’ said Louis guardedly, ‘but one who, whether I agree or not with your policies, causes me to realize that you are no ordinary man and that with you, things had best be up front.’

‘Two assailants?’ prompted Bousquet.

‘The female, having gained access to the Hall, removed her overcoat and, most probably, also a woollen jersey. Then, after lighting a cigar, waited for her victim.’

‘A cigar …?’ blurted Laval. ‘Was it one of Petain’s?’

‘There’s a humidor in his office, Inspectors,’ interjected Bousquet. ‘People come and go all day long. Any of them could have helped themselves or been offered one they did not smoke at the time.’

Lost to the thought, Laval muttered, ‘Someone so close, he, she or both can come and go as they please, with us none the wiser. Is this what you’re suggesting, Rene?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘But … but cigars are available elsewhere?’ cautioned Laval. ‘The Marquis de Bon Gout, on the boulevard du Casino at the other end of the park, has plenty, Inspectors. Ask the elder Paquet to go through his register. Take the old man into your confidence a little. He knows everything there is to know about this town, save what’s left of the nation’s government. Maybe even that too.’ He glanced at his pocket watch and then turned again to Bousquet. ‘Rene, make certain they tell you everything. Relay it to me but keep that little Florentine intriguer of a doctor in the dark, eh? Find out who among his overblown staff knew about this liaison he’d arranged and if that person or persons squeaked it to anyone else, including the members of his private army. Let us show that starchy Rasputin a thing or two and baste his goose with the sauce it deserves!’

‘A moment, Premier,’ cautioned Louis as Laval got up to leave. ‘The killer knew enough about the heart muscle to know it would be best to enlarge the hole she was putting in it.’

‘The haft of the knife was lifted hard before the blade was withdrawn,’ offered Kohler blandly, ‘so we’re dealing with a professional and had best keep it in mind.’

‘And is the Marechal the only target,’ snorted Laval, ‘or is it that this double-barrelled assassin of ours wants us all to feel the coup de grace before it arrives?’

The finishing stroke … ‘We shall have to see,’ said Louis.

‘Premier, your use of the name Flykiller in the telex you sent Gestapo Boemelburg?’ asked Kohler.

Laval threw Bousquet a silencing glance. ‘Assassin would have been too harsh a word for the sensitive ears of our comrades and allies, Inspector. Surely as one of them, you would agree? Enjoy the coffee. Rene, a further word in private. Walk me to my office. Catch up with these two later.’

‘Transport …’ hazarded Hermann. Laval had left the table.

‘I’ll see what can be arranged,’ shot Bousquet. ‘For now, the morgue is within easy walking distance and she’ll soon be moved. Wait there, and don’t either of you go anywhere else until we’ve spoken. Please, I must insist. Have a look at those first two corpses and let us hope there won’t be any more.’

Daylight had finally crept over the Allier Valley to expose the iron fist of a purplish-grey ice fog. Out on the rue Petit breath steamed. Bundled up, some of them with only their eyes uncovered, people hurried to work, mostly civil servants and cursing weather that was normal for. the Auvergne at this time of year, so good, that was good, thought Kohler. They ought to suffer like the rest of us!

Velo-taxis, those wretched bicycle-rickshaw things the Occupation’s lack of petrol and automobiles had brought, waited in a line outside the Hotels du Parc and Majestic. Blankets for the passengers and vacuum flasks of those equally wretched herbal teas, the tisanes Louis loved to drink. Anything for a few sous. There’d even be a ‘little charge’ for the rental of the blankets.

A horse-drawn cutter looked better. Whistling shrilly, Louis threw up a hand, startling the mare into going back on her hind legs. ‘Surete and Gestapo,’ he shouted before dropping his voice to all but a whisper. ‘The Hotel d’Allier, monsieur, and make it snappy unless you want this animal of yours to leave for the Russian Front.’

No patience whatsoever and still knows damn all about horses, snorted Kohler to himself. ‘Idiot, don’t speak like that in front of or behind her. She’s sensitive. She’ll …’