‘Merci,’ she said softly. They would push her now. They wouldn’t let up until they were satisfied she had told them everything.
Was the vulnerability but a subterfuge? wondered St-Cyr. She wasn’t beautiful but perfectly capable of using the charm of her eyes and faintness of a smile to plead innocence and overcome whatever doubts Hermann might have.
With him, he suspected, she knew that no such ploys would work. The tobacco did, however, calm her a little. ‘Mademoiselle, you were billeted with the British when you and the others first arrived at the camp. Things must have been chaotic.’
Merde, he was even watching the way she smoked her cigarette! ‘Ah, mon Dieu, those first few weeks were so overcrowded we were constantly tripping over one another. One couldn’t have the briefest of washes in privacy or even share a bath without several looking in to say hello, ask for something, or tell a person to hurry up and make sure they didn’t leave a ring but scrubbed it out, nor was there much to eat.’
‘The British had to share their parcels with them, Louis.’
‘Fights broke out, animosities grew so deep they still fester.’
She’d been grateful for Hermann’s interjection about the parcels, had seized on it, but would now have to face the truth. ‘Things went missing, did they?’ asked St-Cyr.
‘A bar of expensive soap, a tube of toothpaste, slippers, socks, and underwear-all such things unless kept well hidden or guarded. Shoes, even, but in October we were moved here. It. . it was then that the theft of little things was first noticed.’
‘But they’d been going on while you were in the Grand?’ asked the sûreté, gesturing companionably with that pipe of his.
‘Oui, I think, but how were we to have known? The British now say they hadn’t lost a thing before we arrived but. . but as to its being the work of a kleptomaniac, I. . ’
She shrugged, had mastered the art of that gesture perfectly, her gaze falling fully on Hermann, of course.
Concern had best flood his eyes, thought Kohler. Warmth, too. ‘Photos, postcards, letters from home, Louis, and bits of ribbon.’
She mustn’t flinch, thought Jennifer, though having had to sit in front of Herr Weber’s desk so many times, she knew well enough the ribbon to which he was referring. ‘Buttons, but only those that wouldn’t have easily been recognized had an attempt been made to use them.’
‘With whom were you billeted?’ asked Herr Kohler.
Cold now, was he to her? wondered Jennifer. ‘With Léa, Hortense, and Marguerite Lefèvre. Madame Chevreul said that it was the least she could do, given the circumstances. Everyone must double up, except for her, of course.’
Herr Kohler flicked a glance at his partner, then said to her, ‘That spare room with the crystal balls and such. . Was it emptied out and taken over?’
He’d been in it, then. ‘They. . they kept it locked but we all knew of it soon enough and that the British had been reading palms and the Ouija board and holding séances in there at ten and twenty francs per person-less perhaps, or the equivalent-and for some time.’
And one hell of a lot cheaper than for the Americans! ‘But not in the Pavillon de Cérès?’
First Herr Kohler would go at her and then the other. ‘The Pavillon. . Not while we were billeted in the Grand. It was simply far too crowded. I slept on the floor beside Marguerite’s cot. There were so many things we had to learn-she helped me a lot, let me tell you, would lend me things, a towel, a pair of slacks. In turn, I shared my toothpaste, perfume, lipstick, and hand-soap with her, for they hadn’t had anything so good in ages.’
‘You got to know her well, then,’ said Herr Kohler.
How well, was what he wanted, the sûreté simply sucking in on that pipe of his, the tobacco mixture sweet yet spicy, its aroma reminding her of Colonel Kessler but also of home, her father, and the shop. ‘Wouldn’t anyone who had slept beside you for weeks?’
‘Were you lovers?’ asked Herr Kohler.
Again she would shrug. ‘Such things happen, especially in places like this. We were afraid, confused, lost, lonely. . Ah, so many things, I. . ’
This time the shrug was defiant, thought St-Cyr.
‘Really, inspectors, my private life, such as it is in a place like this, has nothing to do with what has happened.’
‘Or everything,’ he said, watching her even more closely now.
She would stub out her cigarette, but with infinite care so as not to waste a grain of unburned tobacco. ‘We saw each other daily even after I moved here.’
‘Until?’ he persisted.
It would have to be said quite simply. ‘Until one day, early in December, Marguerite broke things off and wouldn’t even look at or speak to me, but I. . I think Madame Chevreul had told her she had better break it off or else. I. . ’ Ah, merde, she would have to tell them. ‘I was suspected of stealing things. My feelings were hurt, of course. Terribly, but. . but Madame, she wouldn’t listen. I was to be banished. Marguerite was to. . to find another but hasn’t. Not yet, not that I know of.’
They were making her angry and she couldn’t have that, she mustn’t, felt Jennifer. Anger would only play right into their hands, but her cheeks were already warm and inadvertently she had clutched the cigarette butt she had been going to return to Herr Kohler for his little tin and it had crumbled to dust.
‘Caroline Lacy, mademoiselle,’ said the sûreté.
‘Caroline. . Because I had roomed with Marguerite and the others, she. . she wanted me to help her to become a sitter. At first Madame Chevreul refused, but Léa. . Léa finally spoke on our behalf.’
‘Things were still being stolen,’ said St-Cyr.
‘Oui, but Caroline and me, we passed the severest of tests. Madame was satisfied.’
‘But then came the loss of her gris-gris, Louis.’
‘Only now have Hermann, Madame Chevreul, Léa Monnier, and everyone else, it seems, in the Hôtel Grand become convinced Caroline Lacy was the thief.’
‘But. . but Caroline was to have become a sitter, inspectors?’
‘At a séance, mademoiselle, which for her just never happened.’
‘I didn’t kill her. I swear I didn’t! Caroline was convinced that Cérès would reveal Madame de Vernon had hit her husband with an empty champagne bottle, a Moët et Chandon. Not a full one, for otherwise it. . it might have exploded and sent flying glass into her eyes and Madame, she. . she would have known this could happen.’
‘And then set fire to the casino here?’ asked Herr Kohler.
‘Oui.’ Jennifer nodded. ‘We. . we spoke of it often. It was all just supposition but. . but the more she thought about it, the more my Caroline believed, and me, I. . I joined in because it pleased her.’
Were the tears real? wondered St-Cyr. ‘But you did have a falling out with her on the night Mary-Lynn died. Caroline was very upset and had a severe asthma attack as a result.’
The eyes were wiped. ‘We. . we patched things up, as I’ve told you.’
‘But you did tell Herr Weber that Caroline desperately wanted to arrange a meeting with someone so as to let the new Kommandant know what she’d seen, and prior to this, you did tell him the future Corporal Duclos had predicted for Mary-Lynn Allan.’
Ashen now, Jennifer knew she couldn’t look at either of them and was in danger of stammering. ‘He told me that if I didn’t tell him things and find out everything he asked me to, he’d see that I never left Vittel. He doesn’t like me, inspectors. Indeed, he hates what I’ve become and ridicules me, while I. . I have to sit in front of that desk of his and must not look anywhere else but straight at him. He. . he enjoys humiliating people like me, but says he has to make allowances, as he does with Brother Étienne, until the Führer orders otherwise.’