Tapestry (39 page)

‘ “Lousy,” is it?’

‘Just tell me.’

‘I didn’t know. I … I only assumed.’ Ah
Sainte-Mère, Sainte-Mère
, why had
Monsieur le Juge
not insisted Denise accompany her?

‘You knew, mademoiselle. You have just stated it as if you did, which can only mean …’

Must he pause like this and make her catch a breath in fear of what was to come? ‘All right, damn you! Abélard also knew or suspected it but didn’t want to tell Mother such a thing.’

‘A good friend of the family, is he?’

‘The best! Like a father. Always there for Mother when needed, always interested in how I’m getting along. Mine was killed in action. He … Colonel Abélard-Armand Delaroche tried his best to take that place for Mother and me. I was only eight years old when we got the news about Papa, nine when Abélard was first able to come home to see how we were.’

‘But he didn’t think to confront Madame Élène Artur with the theft?’

‘WHY SHOULD HE HAVE? HE …’

‘Had other plans for her?’

‘I … I don’t know what you wish to imply, Inspector. I really don’t. Abélard would not have harmed that girl. He was only asked to have her followed.’

‘But I thought he was looking for Lulu? Surely he wasn’t told to follow Élène?’

‘You know very well what I said. Mother and …’

‘And whom?’

It would do no good to lie since he must already know, but it would be best, as with such men, to let him think her spirit had been broken. ‘Mother and Vivienne hired him.’

Hired
not
asked
.

‘Must you sigh like that?’

‘Vivienne knew all about the judge and Élène and didn’t like it one bit, did she?’

‘Should she have? That bitch wasn’t the first but the latest of many.
La syphilis, la blennorragie
—the clap to you,
la chaude-pisse
that burns,
n’est-ce pas
? To have had to live in terror of his contracting such … such filthy diseases and then giving them to her as he did time and again? Is that not reason enough?’

‘And he has a taste for the exotic, hasn’t he?’

‘If you wish to call it that, I don’t! The wife of a prisoner of war? The mother of a child she should have been home looking after yet who constantly flaunted herself naked on stage and sold herself to the highest bidder while her husband languished behind barbed wire? How could she have done such a thing?’

‘Here, have another of these. That one will only spoil your nail polish.’

She should flick the butt into Herr Kohler’s face, but mustn’t. ‘Vivienne is a patriot. She does what she can. No one could do more.’

‘And your mother?’

‘Can’t do much, poor thing.’

‘But offer to help pay for things and is her confidante, as is Colonel Delaroche?’

‘Isn’t that what lifelong friends become? These bitches have to be stopped. They can’t be allowed to betray their husbands like others did in the last war. They’ve got to be taught a …’

Irritably Germaine de Brisac drew on her cigarette and turned to stare out her side windscreen. ‘I … I didn’t mean to say any of that.’

‘I think you did. I think your late husband fooled around a lot before he was killed during the blitzkrieg. You had already petitioned the courts to let you divorce him.’

Avoiding it would do no good. ‘And now I no longer use my married name. Oh, for sure, I’ve reason enough, just as Mother had before me. Fortunately for her,
Papa
didn’t return from the fighting, and fortunately for myself, neither did my husband.’

‘And when you went down into the Lido having left Lulu ripe for …’

‘Listen, you, I have blamed myself enough already and have asked countless times why I didn’t simply take her with me.’

‘You were worried about your friend. Lulu would have thrown herself at the judge and …’

‘All right, all right, I
knew
I couldn’t. Does that satisfy you?
Monsieur le juge
was besotted with that
salope indochinoise
. She was always in heat for him, always did things poor Vivienne couldn’t bring herself to do or submit to. Denise
begged
him to come home and never see the girl again but …’

‘He wouldn’t agree. He had made up his mind to see her again, hadn’t he? Men like the judge don’t just have urges. They’ve the erection of a constant, ego-driven need to conquer and an arrogance that can and does lead them into trouble. Last October, Élène asked him to meet her in the Parc Monceau. My partner and I believe she was going to tell him of the child she was carrying, and likely she did because when Lulu found them, the judge kicked hell out of that terrier.’

Fornicateur
that he was himself, or so Denise had been told by her mother, Herr Kohler held on to the cigarette he had placed between her lips, making her tremble at the nearness of him, at the musk such men exuded. ‘Well?’ he demanded.

‘Denise was in tears when I found them at that table of his in the Lido. He had two thousand francs in the fist he had thrust at her, his daughter! She gripped my hand and held it to her lips. I felt her tears. I … I told her we’d best leave, that the car was running. So many of the women we have to deal with have no morals just like Élène Artur. They try to deny it to our faces when confronted with the evidence. Marie-Léon Barrault is the same. We’ve photos of her in the Hôtel Grand, waiting for the lift. Photos with Gaston Morel, sometimes the two of them even with her daughter, Inspector. A child of eight! Just what must Annette be thinking at such times, a mother who disappears upstairs in a huge hotel like that? A mother who …’

‘La fellation?’

‘Isn’t that what such men always want from such women?’
Ah, Jésus … cher Jésus
, why had she let him drive her to say such a thing? ‘I didn’t mean that either. I really didn’t. Annette Barrault is very worried about her mother and missing her dear
papa
terribly just as I did my own.’

‘You’ve interviewed her separately from the mother?’

Did he know
nothing
of social work? ‘We always do that. It helps to get the children off by themselves. Things the mother won’t admit are then sometimes revealed.’

‘Just like detectives—the real ones anyway. Divide and conquer, eh? So when did it all begin, Denise taking client case files home and that mother of hers going through them?’

‘I don’t know. How could I?’

‘You and Denise are as close as your mother and Vivienne Rouget, if not closer.’

‘HOW DARE YOU?’

‘Sorry.’

‘I’m cold. Could we not go in and get this little visit of yours over?’

‘Adrienne Guillaumet has two lovely children who desperately need her.’

‘Then why
didn’t
she control herself? Why did she deliberately arrange to have an assignation with a man who was not her husband? Why hire a
vélo-taxi
to pick her up at an agreed upon time and the shouts of her name from another who would guide her to it?’

‘You knew there were two men waiting for her?’

‘I … I just assumed. It’s very dark on the rue Conté at that time of night outside the École Centrale. There’s always a rush after classes.’

And two men had been waiting for her—this was what Herr Kohler was now thinking as he pinched out his cigarette and added­ it to his little collection. ‘This precious Madame Guillaumet of yours had already sold a good deal of her clothing. What better, then, than to sell the use of herself?’

‘To whom?’

Ah, bon!
‘A general. Why not go right to the top, if you’re from a class that aspires to it and can speak the language fluently?’

‘A general …’

‘
Oui
. At the Ritz.’

She and Denise Rouget had checked it out. They must have. ‘His name? Just for the record.’

‘Schiller. Hans-Friedrich, from Baden-Baden and a very old and well-established family. The youngest of four brothers and an architect before the call-up.’

‘A lonely man?’

Must Herr Kohler still taunt her? ‘Why else his wanting the use of a woman? Oh don’t get the idea Denise and I have met or even spoken to him. It simply took a phone call to the desk and a little name dropping. Admit it, Inspector, the bitch was having trouble paying the rent and wouldn’t listen to our advice on how to budget more carefully. She could have gone to her in-laws and begged them to forgive her for stupidly having not asked her father-in-law’s permission while her husband was away. A holiday in Deauville she just had to have before the children were born? The husband’s parents would have gladly helped her now, had she but humbled herself, but …’

‘Adrienne didn’t want to listen.’

And got exactly what she deserved—was this what Herr Kohler wanted most to hear? ‘We tried, Inspector. We really did. Henriette Morel …’

‘Put up the money and you and Denise hired the Agence Vidocq­ to follow Madame Guillaumet and find the proof.’

‘That is correct.’

‘And with Marie-Léon Barrault and others it was the same.’

Did he have to hear that, too? ‘But fortunately she wasn’t hurt so badly. With some of the others, it …’
Ah, merde, merde,
he had done it again!

‘Yet, if I understand things clearly, Mademoiselle de Brisac, her offences were even worse? Gaston Morel repeatedly; the manager of the Cinéma Impérial also—enough for some dark-minded little priest to write letters about her to the Scapini Commission.’

‘Filth, and worse, yes, but is the sin of the one really any different than that of the other?’

‘Or that of Élène Artur?’

‘I believe so, yes.’

And really uptight about it. ‘But neither you nor Denise thought to ask Madame Morel to pay for having that one followed?’

‘Vivienne …’

‘Was behind it all, wasn’t she? The rapes, the beatings, the punishment. A little campaign that got out of hand.’

Standartenführer Langbehn was in mufti. Tall, handsome—polished,
ah mais certainement,
thought St-Cyr. The successful businessman or banker perhaps, the greying, dark hair close-cropped in military style, the forehead high, face thin, eyes iron-grey and always noting things but giving very little away, the lips wide and full, the expression sardonic, the chin sharp and closely shaven. Not a medal on him or a wound badge, only the SS-Dienstauszeichnung with runes and ribbon, the long-fingered hands with their meticulously pared nails and broad gold wedding band perusing the stamp collection of Monsieur Bernard Isaac Friedman, no doubt a guest of the SS-Totenkopfverbände if still alive.

All around them the Tour d’Argent had settled back into the heads-in-the-sand of its
bons vivants
. Oh for sure the SS and their Sicherheitsdienst would have made a point of knowing exactly where Judge Rouget was at all times, especially on his birthday. Langbehn had probably only intended to offer congratulations in public while reminding the judge and family of that one’s duties by bringing the Fräulein Remer along, but now the unexpected intrusion of this Sûreté would have to be dealt with.

Grinning, the Standartenführer leaned back to consider each of the family before saying, ‘It’s a splendid collection, Madame Rouget. My compliments. Judge, you’ll be the envy of all such collectors and must be immensely proud of this dear lady of yours.’

Coffee, cigars and cognac had been brought from Langbehn’s table. But what of this girl of the Belgian barley sheaves and handbag theft, this stalwart liar in an immaculately pressed, made-over
Blitzmädchen
uniform? wondered St-Cyr. The expression was one of cold appraisal, the look in those china-blue eyes one of what? Of the threat of ‘I dare you to try to stop me from condemning those four neighbourhood boys of yours to death or deportation along with every member of their families?’ After all, a uniform had been disgraced and the Germans …
ah, mon Dieu
, but they loved theirs.

‘That collection was stolen, as I’ve stated, Standartenführer. Since it is a key link in a long chain of murders and assaults, it must be held by me as evidence.’

‘Judge, lock it up,’ chuckled Langbehn as he handed it back to Rouget.

‘Standartenführer …’ One had to try.

Langbehn reached for his cognac in salute. Sonja Remer didn’t waver, but sipped only water, Denise Rouget all but knocking her glass over, Vivienne softly saying, ‘Hercule.’

‘A speech, then, Judge. Begin, please, by telling me the names of all who had access to and the use of that flat of yours on the rue La Boétie. “Important people,” Concierge Louveau has stated. Former military men, the latest of which, some five weeks ago, was a retired general who …
Ah, excusez-moi un moment
, the notebook—so many items are collected on these investigations. Little things that are carelessly left behind. The red ribbon of a Légion d’honneur, Judge. Ah! here is the note I want.’

He’d give them a moment now to set their glasses down, as had the Fräulein Remer, whose regulation black leather handbag couldn’t help but be seen since it was on the table next to her left hand.

‘ “A general with the snow-white moustache and hair just like the Maréchal Pétain.” ’

‘I know nothing of this. Abélard …’

‘Judge, this is not a courtroom yet. Colonel Delaroche has a key to that flat, has he not?’

Had that idiot of a concierge actually told St-Cyr this or was he simply assuming it?

‘WELL?’

Élène’s keys could just as easily have been used, and St-Cyr must know this, but to admit that Abélard had one might be useful. ‘I let him use the flat as often as he wishes. Surely there is no harm in that?’

Rouget knitted those thick fingers of his together as if on the bench and condemning this Sûreté to bite the tongue while dangling by the neck. ‘Harm? Perhaps not, but first this general who enjoys cigars as much as you and the Standartenführer.’

‘They all do!’ scoffed Langbehn. ‘Show me a general relaxing and I’ll show you a cigar smoker.’

‘Relaxing with an auburn-haired prostitute who was no older than the Fräulein Remer, Standartenführer?’

‘A whore …’ breathed Vivienne Rouget. ‘Married, too, was she, to one who is absent and can do nothing whatsoever to stop her from debasing herself with another man?’