Carousel (55 page)

The hint was ignored, the panic was there in any case.

‘Madame had a network of numbers – people from all over and all walks of life. From one she would obtain a quantity of shoelaces, from another the buttons or the gilded picture frames, from another the pair of theatre tickets or the visit to her
coiffeuse
or the massage and the hot mud treatment which is very good for the rheumatism.'

‘Keep talking. Got any tobacco?'

The dealer shook his head, then thought better of it and picked his way through the clutter to a display case.

When he came back, he had a humidor full of cigars. ‘Havanas,' he said. ‘For you, Inspector.'

Kohler pulled out a wad of bills that would have choked a horse and peeled off a five-franc note. ‘Just give me one for now. My partner's French and I'm feeling righteous. Now talk.'

One could not avoid the look in those pale blue eyes. It was as if of death yet wounded to the quick by events perhaps far beyond control.

‘The picture frames are being burned as firewood, monsieur. I could not see them being so foolishly destroyed. The centuries, they are recorded in the styles of the carving, in the gilding. Master after master …'

‘Yes, yes.'

‘Rouge and lipstick from one source, can-openers from another. Soap – always she would tell me she could get this fantastic soap from a friend in the hills. The grey paste we have today burns the skin and the sensitive parts, monsieur. My wife, she suffers terribly from the haemorrhoids and the boils, the erysipelas for which even the lancing is of little good. It's the lousy food one gets these days, what there is of it. The grey bread with the sweepings, the rat droppings and the sawdust. The swedes and the lack of potatoes. Madame Buemondi could find almost anything. Nutmeg, I remember, and cinnamon. Me, I gave her a Sèvres tureen in exchange and this, she bartered for brocade curtains from one of the hotels.'

‘And the brocade?'

‘For the wine, I think. Who knows? The Bar Modiste kept cigarettes for her – you'll find their number in that little book of hers.'

‘And you'll not tell anyone I've got it, will you?'

‘Of course not. Women are not allowed the tobacco ration, monsieur. But Madame Gilberte of the Bar Modiste bleaches the hair, yes? And bleach is unobtainable but for Madame Buemondi's service.'

‘What did the two of you do? Have tea in here every afternoon?'

‘She was very free with her information, monsieur.'

‘Only because you made her tell you.'

Marchal tugged at a sleeve. This one would find out everything. ‘She often used our telephone, monsieur, as I am sure she did everyone else's when needed. Me, I … ah, I have overheard the snatches from time to time. From the nuns of the Blessed Virgin she obtained the braided silks stiff with gold and silver thread, and much bed linen that could be dyed any colour one wished if one was a fashion designer and had nothing else with which to work. For these things, Madame gave the nuns toothpaste, the soap, the sandpaper sticks for the fingernails, the wine, the vegetables, the sausage and the granulated sugar.'

The Gestapo made no comment but only drew on the cigar. Marchal told him that Madame must have at least fifty names on her list of contacts. ‘Each morning she would begin her day by telephoning someone. Always the bright, cheery voice, always the optimist until … Monsieur, has anything happened to her?'

‘No … No, it's all just routine. We have to follow everything up. It's part of the job.'

‘Then why have you got her notebook?'

‘Bayonne … Why not tell me what she did there?'

‘Bayonne …? But … but why would she travel so far when she had all the business she could possibly handle here?'

‘Medicines?' shot Kohler. ‘Look, I can let the boys over at the Hotel Montfleury know all about your part in this affair or I can forget I ever saw you.'

‘All right, all right, then yes, yes, she went to Bayonne to obtain the medicines. If that is what you wish to hear, monsieur, then that is what I will say but me, I know nothing of this.'

That was fair enough. ‘When was the last time you saw her?'

‘Three days ago. Wednesday, the 16th. She telephoned first as she always did before coming over. She was in great distress and quite unlike her usual self. Would I take this lot of frames – sixteen of them.
Mon Dieu
, what am I to do with them? I said I could not pay the usual price, as I had already far too many of them but she said I would have to just this one more time as something important had come up and she needed cash. “Cash,” she said. “I must have the cash or all is lost.”'

Buy
Kaleidoscope
Now!

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

copyright © 1993 by J. Robert Janes

Cover Design by Linda McCarthy

978-1-4532-5195-9

This edition published in 2012 by
MysteriousPress.com
/Open Road Integrated Media

180 Varick Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

FROM MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM

AND OPEN ROAD MEDIA