‘Two more for you,’ Seymour said to Meunier.
‘Oh, I don’t treat pedestrians.’
Seymour took them aside and they sank gratefully to the ground.
‘How did you get on?’
‘No one saw a thing,’ said Mustapha, depressed.
‘No one saw a thing?’
‘They all got there afterwards. When word got round.’
‘No one followed him in? When they saw he’d gone after the pig?’
‘Well, one of them had. He hadn’t wanted to. He had seen at once what the Frenchman was like. From the moment he turned aside. Couldn’t stick a cow, he said. Even if its legs were tied together. So he’d said, “Let’s give this one a miss.” But the man he was with had insisted. Thought they’d get right up close. Not a chance! Complete waste of time!’
‘But he must have seen something.’
‘Not much. When he got there it was all over. There was the Frenchman lying on the ground. He thought at first it was a fall. But then he saw the lance. Didn’t know what to make of it. But the man he was with said it was bad and that they should keep out of it. He’d seen that it was a Frenchman, you see, and worked out that someone would be over pretty soon. And that someone would probably be the French army, and that wouldn’t be good at all. So they kept out of it. Just sat there to see what happened.’
‘Well, what happened?’
‘Nothing. Like I told you. By and by two big blokes came riding up, swords and knives bristling all over. And they told everybody to get back. I mean by this time there was quite a crowd there and they’d all crept in. Well, you can understand it, can’t you? It’s not every day you see a dead Frenchman and they wanted to have a good look. But these two big blokes whipped out their swords and everybody jumped back in a flash. And one of them went off and came back with another Frenchman, and he was a soldier. Just like his mate had said. So they did right to keep out of it.’
‘Yes, yes, I’ve got that bit. But did you talk to people? Had anyone seen anything more than this chap had?’
‘Of course we talked to people! But they’d all got there afterwards. Like I said.’
‘There was that boy, Mustapha,’ said Idris.
‘The beggar boy, you mean? The lame one? The one with the limp.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, he was the bright one. He’d know he couldn’t run, so he’d gone out before. Before the hunt started. He’d gone out and lay down under a thorn bush so that he would see as they went past.’
‘And did he see them?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Including Bossu?’
‘Yes. He’d seen him go after the pig, and he’d thought, he’ll never get anywhere-’
‘Yes, yes. But he did see him? He saw him separate from the others. And then what?’
‘He suddenly disappeared! So he reckoned he’d had a fall. Well, he waited a bit to see if he got up, but when he didn’t, he thought he’d go over. I mean, you never know what you might pick up. A wallet, even.’
‘So he went over there? To the spot where he’d seen Bossu fall? And what did he see?’
‘Just him and the lance.’
‘Did he see anyone? Anyone else?’
‘He didn’t say so.’
‘Look, he must have seen someone else. The person who stuck the lance through him.’
‘He didn’t say-’
‘Riding away?’ suggested Seymour hopefully. ‘Whoever did it would have been on horseback. A horse is big — no?’
‘Look,’ said Mustapha, wearying, ‘why don’t you ask him?’
‘I will. What’s his name?’
‘Name?’
‘He’s got a name, hasn’t he?’
‘No. He’s just a beggar boy.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘I’ve told you. He’s a beggar boy. He doesn’t live anywhere.’
‘How will I find him, then, to talk to him?’
‘Oh, you’ll find him. He’s always around.’
‘Yes, he’s always around,’ said Idris.
As detectives, thought Seymour ruefully, they had their limitations.
He went back into the Tent. It wasn’t quite as densely packed as before but the bar was still doing a roaring — and how! — trade. Suddenly, however, as if some mysterious signal had been given, all the soldiers detached themselves and made for the door at the back of the Tent. That left a number of spaces at the bar and in one of them, left bereft of her admirers, he saw Madame Bossu. She looked round, saw him and brightened.
‘Monsieur Seymour!’
‘Madame!’
‘And how do you like our little games?’
‘I find your little games enchanting, Madame.’
‘That was not what I meant!’ she said, tapping his hand reprovingly.
‘But where have all your admirers gone? Earlier in the afternoon I couldn’t have hoped to get near you.’
‘Ah, those boys! I love the military, you know. I often used to say to Bossu, “Bossu, why aren’t you a soldier?” “If I was one, you’d soon notice the difference,” he would say. “Soldiers don’t make any money.” “You are always thinking about money,” I used to tell him. “It’s just as well one of us is,” he would say. That wasn’t very kind of him, was it?’
‘Indeed not!’
‘And if I spent money, he would encourage me! “Just add it to your account,” he would say. So that’s what I did. Add it to my accounts. All of them.’
‘All of them?’
‘Well, I didn’t just use one dressmaker. I liked to use several. One mustn’t let oneself fall into a groove.’
‘Certainly not! And — and Bossu encouraged you in this?’
‘He was always very generous in that way “Don’t bother your pretty little head,” he would say. “Just give me the bills.” So I did.’
‘And he would settle them?’
‘I imagine so. I never heard any more about it.’
‘He would write a cheque, I imagine.’
‘Cheque?’
‘A little bit of paper. It’s usually got a bank’s name on it.’
Juliette wasn’t sure about that. He certainly had a lot of little bits of paper. And, yes, he used to write on them sometimes.
‘You don’t remember the name on the bit of paper, do you? The bank’s name?’
Juliette’s smooth forehead wrinkled.
‘There were a lot of names,’ she said doubtfully.
‘One in particular?’
Juliette couldn’t recall.
‘I think he used a lot of banks,’ she said. And then, helpfully: ‘Like me, dressmakers.’
‘And when he wanted cash, to give to you, say, what did he do?’
‘Do you know,’ said Juliette, ‘I’ve never asked myself that. I would just ask and he would always give me some.’
‘Where did he keep it?’
‘Keep it?’
‘Did he have a safe or something? A drawer, perhaps? in his desk?’
‘Not that I’ve found,’ said Juliette. ‘And I’ve looked.’
Her eyes widened.
‘My God!’ she said. ‘You don’t think…’
‘What?’
‘That he kept it at Monique’s! That bitch! She must have it all!’
‘No, no, no! Not necessarily. He may have kept it somewhere else. And his papers, too. Did he have an office somewhere, perhaps? Apart from the one at the committee?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘You see, what I’m trying to do is track down any transactions he might have been engaged in. In case they throw any light, you know, on his death. I’ve been through his office at the committee and there didn’t seem much there. Did he bring stuff like that home?’
‘He brought some things home, certainly.’
‘Papers?’
Juliette couldn’t remember.
‘Bank statements?’
What were they?
‘Well…’
Juliette wasn’t sure. She didn’t think so.
‘I wonder, perhaps, if you would allow me to go through his things?’
‘Of course! Come round and see me,’ said Juliette, brightening. ‘Sometime.’
‘It’s just the papers,’ said Seymour hastily. ‘If I could.’
‘I will show you everything!’
‘Thank you. Yes, thank you.’
She frowned.
‘Of course…’
‘Yes?’
‘Renaud has them. He’s been helping me, you see. With all the — you know, the horrid stuff that has to be gone into when someone dies. He took everything away with him.’