Two of what appeared to be bulging burlap sacks were offloaded to be later carried toward the hotel.
‘He comes here first this time, Inspector,’ whispered someone. ‘The British camp will be jealous, but on his next visit he’ll go there before he comes here. Oh, he sends shivers right through me. He’s the gentlest of beings. Intently he listens to every word that is said and intuitively knows and understands exactly what is needed.’
‘A massage. My ankles. My feet. Some of his cream,’ said another.
‘His very touch is like a balm, Inspector. Pure magic.’
‘Pure love, if you ask me. He cares. He really does.’
‘And always there is that smile of his, now warm, now gentle, now bright.’
‘He has the most sensitive eyes, Inspector. They never look through you, only with you. Empathy is what he has. Concern.’
‘A selflessness unknown to most, especially at a time like this, when everyone’s killing everyone.’
And a warm brother? Hermann had asked the new Kommandant who had answered, “That is putting it politely.”
Having been a prisoner of war, Kohler was impressed. Madame Chevreul didn’t live in just one room but in a third-storey suite that, beyond the floor-to-ceiling drapes, must overlook the Parc Thermal from the Hôtel Grand’s western corner. Léa Monnier guarded the entrance, but so too did the cook and the maid who also occupied that first room, Madame the third and most spacious, and with a reception room between and another beyond, this last door being closed. And locked? he had to wonder, ignoring her and going over to try it. Locked tight, all right, but probably only because she had the present company.
Under blankets and a coverlet most would have sold their souls for, she was propped up with feather pillows in a four-poster that must have cost a fortune. The powder-blue dressing gown had been newly laundered, pressed, and thoroughly dried, a miracle in itself. The fair, shoulder-length hair had been brushed to a sheen by the maid. Pensively the dark-blue eyes took him in with a mixture of disdain and indignation.
‘Really, Herr Kohler, I must object. Such impertinence at such an unmentionable hour does not become you, nor the cause you pursue. I never rise before ten. To do so would be uncivilized.’
‘Detectives have to get up earlier.’
Was the belligerence deliberate? she wondered. He had had to wait a good twenty minutes and now stood impatiently on the carpet before her and not a centimetre closer to the foot of the bed than the two metres Léa had insisted on.
‘To what do I owe this visit? A few small questions, is it? Nothing difficult, or have you a better line of balderdash than that partner of yours?’
‘Louis hasn’t been here, has he?’
Ah, mon Dieu, she had caught him out. ‘Moves quickly, does he, your partner? Oh, please don’t look so unsettled, you foolish, foolish man. He hasn’t. News simply travels, but I do expect a visit from him, though at a more civilized hour. It would be unseemly of either of you to ignore me. Rumour is rife enough as it is. Will you take tea?
‘Léa. . Léa, dearest, would you oblige?
‘Sugar, Inspector? Milk, is it?’
‘Black is fine.’
And still impatient. ‘Sit over there in my chaise longue where I can see you. Were there daylight, a little sun, though fledgling at this time of year, might have warmed you further than the fires in my stoves. I’ve three of those. Smoke if you wish. You’ll find cigarettes in my case on the dressing table. I don’t indulge until noon. It’s best to build up one’s ability to resist temptation, I think.’
He ignored the put-down and immediately found her cigarette case. Anxiously lighting one, he let her see him in the table’s mirrors, but didn’t turn to face her. Instead, he ran that gaze of his over everything, knowing that his looking so closely was bound to unsettle her.
‘They’ve said things, haven’t they, some of those in the dining room?’ she asked, a modest quaver betraying her feelings.
Still he didn’t answer, and neither did he turn to face her. ‘Art Deco silver frames, you ask of the photos, Inspector? Childhood friends-sisters, even? An estate in Kent, perhaps? A millpond where three young women, each with all the joys and sorrows of their tender lives still ahead of them, are in a rowboat, me at the tiller, age twenty-three, if you must know. Rebecca Thompson is in the bow and dangles fingers into the water looking as if she wants to strip off all the finery society insists on and take the plunge. Judith Merrill is at the oars and about to do just that. Guests. . were they guests of mine, you wonder, or was I the guest? How deep is a past you cannot yet know nor ever fathom?’
Her voice had risen to an edge that, ignoring her further, would only sharpen. The cigarette case was, of course, from Van Cleef amp; Arpels, the jewellery the same as Louis and he had noticed Léa Monnier wearing when at the head of that mob in the foyer of the Vittel-Palace late the day before, but had Madame known her henchwoman had borrowed it, and why leave it lying about like this when they both knew things were being stolen?
The tea was brought in a willow-ware cup and saucer, Herr Kohler giving Léa the coldness of a once-over.
‘What mob?’ he asked her.
‘Tut-tut, Inspector. Léa is to leave us now. Ours is to be an interview in the privacy of my room. Having insisted upon it, I think it best you deal only with me for the moment.
‘Léa, dearest, I’ll ring when I’ve finished with him.’
There wasn’t a speck of jewellery on Léa Monnier, the grey house dress similar to that of a Blitzmädel but without the flashes. Retreating, she shut them in.
‘The Old Bailey?’ asked Herr Kohler, cigarette in hand and cup and saucer clumsily balanced. Unfortunately he would pursue his questions as a dog does buried bones. In this he was no different from St-Cyr except, perhaps, for the degree and manner of persistence. ‘The Old Bailey, you ask? Léa chose duty to king and country over prison, that is true. Léa Easton then, Inspector. Abused as a child-taught the harsh lessons of a male-dominated world at a very early age, I suspect, though would never ask. Couldn’t even vote, though too young at the time, and of course women didn’t have the vote anyway. Arrested due entirely to a mistake, she having become caught up in some street demonstration and carried along into the truncheons of a battalion of mounted police. She had, I believe, chosen a most unfortunate moment to go on an errand for the mistress of the house in which she was employed as kitchen help, hence her arrest-was this what they told you, those who would whisper vindictiveness out of envy?’
He didn’t answer, knowing this would only upset her all the more, but waited, his tea still untouched. Datura. . Was it that he actually thought Léa had those missing seeds and would poison him here?
‘Léa does have her enemies, Inspector, and they, poor souls, will say the most uninformed of things.’
Cigarette ash was tapped into his saucer-would he drown the butt in the tea or pinch it out and put it away in the little tin most carried whether they used tobacco or not?
He would drown it, she thought, and leave it for Léa to find, but was there not something to overcome the impasse between them? ‘Life hasn’t been easy here, Inspector. I do miss my lovely home and the Percherons we bred. They’re the most noble of creatures. Do you know of them? You must. There are pictures on my bureau. Please look at them. I’ve no secrets.’