The Châtelet Apprentice (34 page)

‘God be praised!' he exclaimed. ‘Here he is at last! My premonition was wrong. I've been on tenterhooks since yesterday. I've had the darkest thoughts. I can even say that each attack of this wretched gout brought on a fit of anxiety to match. Fortunately my fears were misplaced.'

‘Less than you think, Monsieur, and I can thank you for urging caution, which is undoubtedly what saved my life.'

Nicolas then began a detailed account of all that had just happened. This was no easy matter because the old man constantly interrupted him with exclamations and questions. He managed to keep going with his story, however, until Marion
interrupted them by bringing her master a cup of clear broth. The magistrate suggested that Nicolas should eat the boiled beef he was not allowed, and all the vegetables. There should also be a good bottle of burgundy brought up from the cellar just for the young man. This suggestion was taken up enthusiastically.

‘Marion has sentenced me to death by hunger!' sighed the magistrate. ‘Fortunately,' he added, pointing towards a book he was reading, ‘I make up for it by devouring
Le Cuisinier
by Pierre de Lune. I nourish myself by salivating. Did you know that this grand master of the art of cooking was superintendent of the kitchens to the Duc de Rohan, the grandson of the great Sully? He's the inventor of the
bouquet garni
, stewed beef and the
roux
. What's more,' he added, eyeing longingly the ancient bottle that Marion was putting on the table, ‘I'm not allowed wine. When I've had my fill of reading about food, I take up my good old copy of Montaigne. Listen: “Pain will surrender on far better terms to someone who stands up to it. We must resist and stiffen our resolve against it.” I'm doing my best. Good grief, I notice this account of my sufferings has not affected your appetite. That's the sign of a clear conscience.'

Nicolas looked up, embarrassed at having been caught gorging himself. The warm, tasty food was giving him renewed energy.

‘My humble apologies, Monsieur. Today's events …'

‘… have made you ravenously hungry.'

‘Monsieur, may I ask your advice on all this?'

The aged procurator looked down, screwing up his eyes. He seemed deep in thought. His flabby jowls drooped around his chin, like a ruff of flesh.

‘The truth is,' he said, nodding his head, ‘that nothing has
been resolved. However, you now possess pieces of information that you still have to fit together. Think long and hard about the circumstances of your investigation. Weigh up impartially the evidence and the assumptions. Then let yourself sink into a deep sleep. Experience has often taught me that solutions occur to us when we least expect them. And my final piece of advice is this: for the truth to be revealed you need to shine a light. If you don't have a light, just pretend.'

He looked at Nicolas with a glint in his eye. This small satisfaction caused him further pain that made him wince and groan feebly. Nicolas realised it was time to allow his elderly friend to rest. After wishing him goodnight he went back to his room. He lay down on the bed to think. Sometimes the way the case was unfolding seemed clear, at other times its different aspects crowded his mind and became jumbled up. He kept going over the same suppositions, but they led nowhere.

To calm himself he decided to examine the three messages left by Lardin. He spread them out on the writing surface of the roll-top desk and re-read them several times. The sentences danced before his eyes and their contents continued to suggest to him something that he could not manage to pin down. Exhausted, he mixed up the scraps of paper as if he were shuffling cards and he left them there. Then sleep overcame him.

A hand was hovering over pieces of a puzzle lying on the floor. His brow furrowed with concentration, he was trying to put together the word CAT. He took the first letter, then the second … He looked up, pleased with himself. He had, however,
forgotten the T and, like the verger in a church, the canon was impatiently tapping his cane on the echoing kitchen flagstones. Eventually he pointed out to him the missing letter. The familiar voice said to him: ‘Now everything is in the right order.' But already his guardian was mixing up the pieces of the puzzle again and giving him another word to assemble. As he knelt down, Nicolas could see the canon's clogs and the threadbare and
mud-spattered
braid at the bottom of his cassock. Fine was singing an old Breton ballad while plucking some poultry. He was surprised by the grating music that accompanied the gentle lilt of the refrain.

It was at this point that he woke up. He went to the window and drew the curtains. From Rue Montmartre rose the plaintive sound of a hurdy-gurdy played by a peasant from the Auvergne dressed in a sheepskin and accompanied by his black dog. His guardian's words were still echoing in Nicolas's head when he noticed Lardin's three pieces of paper spread out untidily on the desk. Without looking, he mixed them up again and then examined them. How could he not have noticed it before? Everything became clear, or at least he had a new lead that was bound to prove successful. There was now an explanation for Lardin's determination to leave these cryptic messages behind. But nothing was definite for the moment. At the very most, as in the fairy tale, there was the trail of pebbles left to show the way.

He was ready in an instant. He burnt his throat as he gulped down the cup of chocolate that Marion had hurriedly prepared for him. The old servant bemoaned the fact that he had left her so little time to whisk the drink. This process was necessary, she claimed, for it to develop its smoothness and to bring out its full aroma. Marion had long since taken to the young man, and
peeling quinces together the autumn before had marked for her the beginnings of an affectionate bond between them. She trusted him wholeheartedly and was touched also by the respect he showed towards her master. Poitevin, who shared Marion's liking for Nicolas, gently but firmly made him take off his boots. As quick as a flash he cleaned and then polished them. Finally he shined up the leather by brushing hard and applying plenty of spit. Tearing himself away from the creature comforts of the Noblecourt household, Nicolas rushed cheerfully into the cold air of the fine, icy day which greeted him.

He went first to the Châtelet, where he wrote a message to Monsieur de Sartine. Its purpose was to request his presence that very evening at six o'clock to preside over a general
confrontation
with all the suspects and witnesses. Then he had a lengthy discussion with Bourdeau. They needed to bring Semacgus from the Bastille and Louise Lardin from the Conciergerie, to summon Catherine the cook, and of course the commissioner's daughter. For the time being and without any further
explanation
, Nicolas delegated to his deputy responsibility for taking any decisions or initiatives in his absence.

Once this was arranged he went down to the Basse-Geôle and spent some time considering the remains found in Montfaucon, which were now part of a macabre collection that included the bodies of Descart, Rapace, Bricart, Lardin and Mauval. These corpses gathered together in one place offered a terrifying image of the destructive effects of vice, self-interest, passion and destitution that had finally produced this spectacle of human decay. It was painful for him to see Mauval again. His face, now that it had been cleaned, seemed serene and
younger-looking
. What tragic combination of circumstances had brought
together in this same resting place people so different and distant from one another in life? He again leant over the unidentified body found in the knacker's yard as if attempting to discover its secret and to obtain some confirmation from it. This was how Sanson found him. Their conversation was lively. They examined Lardin's body, then Descart's. Their words were interspersed with long silences. Eventually Nicolas left the chief executioner, having invited him to attend the session at the Châtelet that same evening, to be presided over by the Lieutenant General of Police.

Nicolas had a busy day going from one place to another. He had taken a carriage and travelled the length and breadth of Paris. First of all he had been driven to Rue des Blancs-Manteaux. He carefully examined the Lardins' house once again, then crossed the Seine to visit the practice of Master Duport, Descart's notary, but also Lardin's. He was given a frosty reception, responded in kind and eventually obtained what he had come for. He went back through the city into the heart of Faubourg Saint-Antoine. He got lost in the maze of streets and dead-ends in the district where joiners worked. After many wrong turnings he had to ask passers-by for directions, but their information was contradictory. He finally managed to locate the cabinet-maker whose name was on the invoice discovered in Commissioner Lardin's library. The craftsman's papers and accounts were completely disorganised. After a lengthy search the man eventually managed to give Nicolas information about the order in question. Having had his intuition confirmed, he allowed himself a break in a
faubourg
tavern, treating himself to one of
those wholesome dishes he was so fond of. All that was missing to make his enjoyment complete was the friendly presence of his companion Bourdeau, always game for this type of revelry.

Having satisfied his appetite, Nicolas sent the carriage away and walked back via the Rue Saint-Antoine. Amidst the crowd of craftsmen and day-labourers he allowed his mind to roam. Sometimes he was beset by doubts about the validity of his initiative. Was he well enough equipped to justify summoning everyone to appear before Monsieur de Sartine? Then Monsieur de Noblecourt's words came back to him and restored his determination to succeed. He knew that he was not only trying to secure the successful outcome of the investigation, but also his future in the police force. A mistake would consign him for ever to a lowly position, especially as it was still so soon after his phenomenal ascent. Monsieur de Sartine would not forgive his failure, as it would reflect badly on him for having put a young and inexperienced man in charge of such an important case. What mattered to the Lieutenant General of Police was not so much to arrest ordinary criminals as to resolve an affair of State that closely involved the King and the safety of the realm in wartime. He was perfectly aware of the particular reasons why his superior had taken it upon himself, perhaps too lightly, to trust him. Nicolas owed it to himself not to disappoint him. But convinced as he was, deep down, that he had given of his best, even risking his life in the process, his doubts were more a way of warding off ill fortune than a justified fear.

He returned to the Châtelet on the stroke of five. He felt alert and determined. His inner deliberations had culminated in his decision to act and to bring things to a head without too many qualms.

Bourdeau had become concerned about his absence and showed his relief when he saw him, but was careful not to enquire how he had spent his day. He had preferred to present Nicolas's request orally and in person because he knew how the Lieutenant General reacted when he suspected he was not being paid all the respect owed to his position. Once more Nicolas acknowledged his deputy's wisdom.

Monsieur de Sartine had indeed balked at the proposal foisted upon him, but in the end he had been swayed by the inspector's arguments: he would not regret a session in which everything was to be clarified.

Bourdeau looked at Nicolas, whose expression showed neither approval nor concern at this way of putting things to Sartine. But he went on to congratulate him. Now the room needed to be made ready. With the help of old Marie a row of stools was set up in the Lieutenant General's office. It was not quite the dock but it was not far off it and, he said, it would make the suspects more uncomfortable. There was a lengthy
discussion
with Bourdeau, which resulted in old Marie being invited to take part in the proceedings. The three of them went in and out of the office several times as if to inspect it. As the appointed hour drew near, Nicolas became more and more excited.

The suspects and the witnesses began to arrive one after the other, and were then put into separate rooms so they could not communicate with each other. Six o'clock sounded on the nearby bell tower. The sound of brisk footsteps on the stairs heralded Monsieur de Sartine's arrival, punctual as ever. He beckoned Nicolas to follow him into his office. No sooner had he got inside the room than he rushed over to the great fireplace and
started to poke the fire furiously. The young man waited calmly until this ritual was over.

‘Monsieur,' he began, ‘I do not appreciate being told what to do or being summoned to my own office. I sincerely hope you have good reason for behaving in this way.'

‘I merely suggested organising a session that I considered so vital to our investigation that it could not take place without you,' Nicolas replied deferentially. ‘Besides, your presence here means you must have judged this to be the case.'

Monsieur de Sartine's tone mellowed.

‘I take that to be a good sign. But, Nicolas, will it at least lead us to settle the matter we both have on our minds?'

‘I think so, Monsieur.'

‘In any case make sure you remain discreet about this.'

He went behind his desk and sat in the great red damask chair. He took out his watch and looked at the time.

‘Get through it quickly, Nicolas. I'm expected for dinner and my wife would not forgive me for missing it.'

‘I shall have everyone brought in immediately. But I fear, Monsieur, that your dinner will go begging …'

S
EMACGUS
was the first to appear, and was even ruddier than usual, though impassive. He was followed by La Paulet and La Satin. The madam looked downcast but her small eyes, sunk in folds of flesh, were darting around like those of an animal at bay. Antoinette betrayed her surprise at finding herself next to the navy surgeon. Louise Lardin, in a grey skirt and loose-fitting black jacket, without wig or make-up, seemed to have aged several years. Her tousled hair already showed the first signs of grey. Marie Lardin, in mourning clothes, was nervously fidgeting with a small handkerchief. Catherine Gauss supported her whilst glowering at her former mistress. Sanson slipped in like a shadow and stood almost unseen against the wall in the recess next to the fireplace. Bourdeau remained at the door.

The witnesses took their places on the stools provided. The Lieutenant General of Police went around the desk and sat on its
edge, swinging one leg and toying with a silver stiletto. In the centre of the room and directly opposite him stood Nicolas, holding on to the back of an armchair. Old Marie brought two extra candlesticks. In their light the young man's silhouette cast a long dark shadow right down to the far end of the room.

‘Monsieur Le Floch, you may begin.'

Nicolas took a deep breath and launched in:

‘Monsieur, the investigation you put me in charge of is coming to an end. I think I can confirm that the necessary evidence has now been assembled to come close to the truth and to identify the culprits.'

Sartine interrupted him.

‘The aim is not to come close to the truth but to attain it. We await your explanations, Monsieur, though as my friend Helvétius put it,
1
truth is sometimes a light that shines in the fog but fails to dispel it.'

‘There has been plenty of fog in this case, from the very start,' Nicolas said. ‘Let us go back to the beginning. Commissioner Lardin had disappeared. You put me and Inspector Bourdeau in charge of investigating his disappearance. We proceeded as usual, but at first could find nothing. Then, thanks to the testimony of an elderly soup seller, old Émilie, we discovered some human remains in the knacker's yard at Montfaucon. I should point out in passing, Monsieur, the efficiency of an administration that enabled information gathered by Temple police station to be passed on to us.'

Monsieur de Sartine gave an ironic nod of acknowledgement.

‘I am pleased, Monsieur, by your observation concerning the efficiency of my police force, which is indeed the envy of Europe. But continue.'

‘We examined these human remains closely and they taught us several things. They were of an individual who was bald, male and in the prime of life. He was killed by a bladed instrument, then cut up and deposited in Montfaucon where his jaw was smashed. Our examination showed that the body was taken to the knacker's yard before it started to snow and freeze. From this we were able to tell that the body had been left there the very night that Commissioner Lardin disappeared. In addition we found clothes belonging to the missing man near the body. Everything therefore pointed to the remains discovered being those of the person we were searching for. However, there was still some doubt in my mind. I had the impression that everything had been planned and arranged as if some outside agency wanted to make it easier for us to identify these remains. Every piece of evidence was intended to prove that they were indeed Lardin's. I noticed, however, one detail: a black mark on the top of the skull, which I shall come back to. The way in which the jaw had been so savagely smashed also cast some doubt on the first supposition.'

Nicolas paused to get his breath back and then went on:

‘The investigation also involved the family and friends of the missing man. We quickly learnt from Dr Semacgus that Lardin had organised a supper party in a bawdy house, the Dauphin Couronné. In the course of that crucial evening Dr Descart and Lardin quarrelled and both left the brothel at about midnight. As for Semacgus, he is said to have stayed with one of the girls until three o'clock in the morning and then been unable to find his black servant Saint-Louis, who had also disappeared. When he was questioned, Descart made no reference to his evening at the Dauphin Couronné and accused Semacgus of having killed his
coachman. It was common knowledge that there was a rivalry between the two men, who had previously been friends.'

‘So far, Monsieur,' Sartine said impatiently, ‘you've told me nothing that I didn't already know.'

‘Our investigation at the Dauphin Couronné provided new leads. It appeared that, from the beginning, the Lardin couple had suffered the after-effects of Louise's turbulent youth and that Descart, Louise's cousin, had embezzled her parents' fortune and was thereby the cause of this debauched youth. Because of his unhappy domestic situation, Lardin sought pleasure by paying for the services of La Paulet's wanton women. Being an inveterate gambler and plagued by a wife with expensive tastes, he had lost a fortune and had fallen victim to blackmail by criminals.'

Concerned about the dangerous direction Nicolas's account was taking, the Lieutenant General of Police was nervously tapping the edge of his desk with the stiletto.

‘I shall say nothing about these criminals,' Nicolas
continued,
much to Sartine's relief, ‘nor about their motives. One of them, though, did interest us. His name was Mauval and his haunting presence had been noticed as he spied on us in Montfaucon. It so happened that this Mauval was Louise Lardin's lover. It was also the case that Descart had been lured into a trap at the Dauphin Couronné. Enticed by the
propositions
made by La Paulet, who encouraged his desires, he was bound to come across Lardin.

A muffled voice could be heard protesting:

‘I was responding to demand,' said La Paulet. ‘The customer gives the orders.'

Nicolas ignored this interruption.

‘The meeting and the quarrel seemed therefore part of a cleverly arranged plan. We discovered from another witness that, far from leaving the establishment in the Faubourg
Saint-Honoré
after three o'clock in the morning as he had first stated, Dr Semacgus had left at around midnight to share the bed of Louise Lardin. So no one had an alibi for that night. Descart and Lardin disappeared at about midnight. Semacgus slipped away at the same time. Saint-Louis, Semacgus's coachman, was nowhere to be found. Louise Lardin, who had allegedly gone to attend vespers that evening, was unable to demonstrate beyond doubt where she had been until very late that night, as proved by her cook's testimony regarding the state of her shoes, which were ruined by snow or rain. The mystery was still unsolved but one of these characters, Dr Descart, was soon to meet a violent end at his house in Vaugirard. The initial results of the investigation into his death were ambiguous. He seemed to have been stabbed by a lancet for bleeding. Everything pointed to Dr Semacgus, who had been invited by Dr Descart to meet him at the very time he died and who had ample opportunity to kill him. Or was it a diabolical plot by this same Dr Semacgus? Had he intended this clue to point the finger of suspicion at him in such an obvious way that he would appear completely innocent? And what about the mysterious figure whose hopping footsteps had been noticed by one of our informers, and had left small imprints on the frozen ground that I noted down? The only conclusion from all of this was that Descart could no longer reasonably be considered one of the suspects. So what then?'

‘Exactly. What then?' said Sartine.

‘Well, Monsieur. We are dealing with a Machiavellian plot in which the culprits are sometimes the victims.'

‘Your words are becoming more and more confused, Nicolas.'

‘Everything has been done to make the situation so
complicated
that it is almost impossible to unravel. The first false trail is the body in Montfaucon. It was not Lardin's. We found his body yesterday in the cellars under Rue des
Blancs-Manteaux.'

Catherine let out a scream.

‘Poor master, poor Marie.'

‘Whose, then, were the macabre remains in the knacker's yard and what was the reason for trying to put us off the scent like this? It is in fact a long story. Imagine, Monsieur, Commissioner Lardin, after a long and distinguished career, a man with an uncontrollable passion for gambling who has to provide for his young wife, a flirtatious and pleasure-loving woman. He squanders considerable sums of money and falls into the hands of blackmailers. His situation becomes so desperate that his own servant is forced to help pay the household expenses. He is cornered.'

Nicolas gave his superior an insistent look and Monsieur de Sartine nodded approval.

‘Lardin decides to disappear. He hopes that his disappearance will enable him to remake his fortune and to flee abroad where he intends to settle. He prepares a criminal plan. His wife, Louise Lardin, has a very rich cousin, Dr Descart, whom she loathes. The doctor needs therefore to be accused of the commissioner's murder, after which he will be tried and executed and his property confiscated and transferred to his victim's wife, who is at the time his natural heiress. Madame Lardin agrees and gives herself to Descart to justify the suspicions against him.'

‘It's not true. You're lying. Don't listen to him.'

Louise Lardin had interrupted Nicolas, and Bourdeau had to restrain her from clawing at his face.

‘It is the truth, Madame. Descart was drawn into a trap at the Dauphin Couronné. La Paulet had dangled the prospect of an attractive new recruit. He was made to put on a mask and a cape for his Carnival disguise. Lardin arranged to be there too, with Semacgus, because there needed to be a witness to the quarrel. Descart arrived and was duly provoked. There followed a struggle, and Lardin took advantage of it by tearing off a piece of Descart's pocket, which would be useful incriminating evidence for the future. The doctor ran off, and Lardin followed close behind …'

‘What about Descart?' asked Monsieur de Sartine.

‘He disappeared into the night and returned to his house where he lived alone. If accused of the crime, he would have had no witness and no alibi.'

‘You really make it sound as if you were there, Monsieur.'

‘Once again, Monsieur, your police force is well organised. I shall continue. During this argument, two criminals in Lardin's pay – Rapace, a former butcher, and Bricart, a disabled former soldier – knocked Saint-Louis unconscious and slit his throat in Semacgus's carriage. Then on the banks of the Seine they chopped the body into pieces that they put into two barrels. They transported the whole lot to Montfaucon, where an
eyewitness
saw them abandoning it along with the commissioner's clothes and his cane. The snow that fell later in La Villette than in Paris, covered up the remains.'

‘How can you be so sure? That's not what I read in the reports.'

‘In the reports you read what the witnesses were prepared to tell you. In fact I am in a position to state that the body found in Montfaucon really was that of Saint-Louis.'

Nicolas took a piece of card from his pocket. He went up to one of the candlesticks and held the item over the flame. The smoke immediately left a black mark on the paper.

‘This was how it all dawned on me one night,' he said, ‘as I watched my candle flame blacken the beam above my head.'

‘What you are saying, Monsieur, is so abstruse that I'm
beginning
to doubt your ability to think straight. Explain yourself.'

‘It's very simple. You remember that black mark found on the skull in Montfaucon. I found it even more intriguing because our witness on the spot, old Émilie, had seen Rapace and Bricart strike a light from a tinder-box and burn something.'

He turned towards Semacgus.

‘Monsieur, how old was your servant?'

‘About forty-five, as far as you can tell with an African.'

‘In the prime of life, then?'

‘Certainly.'

‘He was bald, wasn't he?'

‘In spite of his name, taken from his place of birth,
Saint-Louis
had remained a Mahometan. That was why he kept his head shaved except for one lock of hair in the middle, which according to him would allow his God to pull him up on the day of his death.'

‘We all know that Commissioner Lardin was bald
underneath
his wig,' Nicolas continued. ‘If someone had wanted to pass off Saint-Louis's body for Lardin's, this distinctive characteristic would have to be removed. So it was burnt. But a black trace of it remained, which caught my attention.'

‘But,' Sartine objected, ‘the man was black …'

‘That is precisely why his body had to be taken to the knacker's yard, where it would be gnawed and devoured by hordes of rats, birds of prey and stray dogs until it was
unrecognisable
and the bones were picked clean. And why do you think the jaw was smashed and the teeth scattered? Because Lardin's teeth were in very bad condition, unlike those of Saint-Louis, whose beaming smile is still remembered by those who knew the faithful servant. But it was important that the body should be identifiable, hence the presence of clothes and items that had belonged to Commissioner Lardin.'

Monsieur de Sartine nodded silently, before asking:

‘What about Descart's murder?'

‘I'm coming to that, Monsieur. Dr Descart was found dead in the doorway of his house, stabbed in the heart with a lancet for bleeding. That at least was how the murderer wanted it to look. I repeat that the victim was not in fact killed in the doorway of his dwelling, that he had not been stabbed in the heart but close to it and that the wound observed was not the cause of death. A medical expert …'