Early on that Wednesday, before the curfew had ended, the Gypsy and Tshaya had robbed the pay-train at the Gare de l’Est. Then on the night of that same Wednesday or early on the Thursday they had cleaned out the wall safe of Nana’s former villa.
After the Gare de l’Est robbery, Tshaya and the Gypsy could have lain up in the house on the rue Nollet but search as he had, there had been no conclusive evidence of this.
Fighting sleep, he sat down at the table to strip the leather from the boards and to cut it into digestible shreds. ‘I can’t be the cause of her arrest,’ he said, but wondered how she had hidden the wireless set so well, no one had been able to find it.
And what of Gabrielle? he asked. A handkerchief had been dropped in the powder magazine at the quarry but this could just as easily have been done by accident on the first visit, on the thirteenth. On Thursday, the twenty-first, she had been returned to Paris by the Gypsy and the resistants who had taken her car and had immediately informed the police of what had happened. As much as twelve flasks of nitroglycerine and at least two cases of dynamite were missing but how much had been taken on her first visit with Nana? One flask and a few sticks, or all the rest as well?
The Gypsy had run out of nitro by the time they had encountered him at the house on the rue Poliveau. Nitro was far more portable and therefore preferred but now … did he have all he needed or had she lied to the police? Had there never been a second trip? Had they simply held back on the explosives, storing them for De Vries? Hermann and he had seen no tyre tracks, no evidence of that second visit, but, yes, the Gypsy could easily have come and gone. Then why had he not left a surprise for them, especially since he had been trying to kill them?
And what of Nana? he asked. Nana had had one of the revolvers from the Gare Saint-Lazare in her purse but had claimed she’d not been given a chance to tell Herr Max about it. Another good citizen unjustly wronged, but where, please, were the other two Lebels that had been taken during that robbery?
None of them had confided much. Indeed, the lies and half-lies had been piling up to screen the whole thing. Henri Doucette would have been a threat to them. He’d have held back from letting Herr Max know everything. Tshaya could well have told the Spade things Nana and the others couldn’t have him repeating.
Certainly the murder implicated Tshaya. Certainly it would send a definite message to the Gestapo of the rue Lauriston and to all such types. It would say exactly how great had become the hatred of them. But had it been Tshaya who had killed him?
Still deeply disturbed by the murder and by the horror of it, he sadly shook his head but spoke aloud and softly. ‘Tshaya must have obtained the cognac during the villa robbery while with De Vries. The SS always drink the most expensive stuff since they don’t have to pay for it.’
From the rue Nollet to Saint-Cloud was half-way and some across the city, easy enough if the Gypsy had had a car and had been able to hide it safely. But in her statement to the police Gabrielle had sworn that just after curfew on Thursday morning she had been forced to drive De Vries to the quarry. They had used her car. Tshaya had had the flu and had not been able to go with them.
Only the coroner could give a reliable estimate of the time of the Spade’s murder, but had Doucette been killed when Hermann and himself had been in Tours on Wednesday?
By then Nana had come face to face with Doucette not only at the Avia Club but at the party in her former villa on the eleventh. She had also talked to the Spade’s latest pigeon who must have been at the party too.
Tshaya had been at that affair. The cognac could have been taken then, her mind set in its intention to kill.
He knew he was arguing with himself, knew also that Boemelburg would have his own suspicions. Walter would have sensed doubt in him. Walter would have begun to question the murder.
*
Subdued, terrified – pulled from a fitful sleep at 0347 hours – Gabrielle stared emptily at the cognac in her glass. She knew she must say something, that they had to have answers.
‘Drink it!’ said Boemelburg using French.
Anger flared. ‘Why should I? I don’t want it! I want a robe – something to cover these … these pyjamas which are not my own.’
A hand was raised. She wouldn’t duck. She would take the blow and rebound from it.
The hand was halted in mid-air.
‘Now drink it,’ grunted Boemelburg.
The cognac was the Vieille Reserve. Was he certain it would make her sick? ‘We didn’t kill the Spade, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she said ashenly. ‘We had no reason to. I’ve never met him. Tshaya …’
‘How could she have tied him down like that if alone?’ demanded Engelmann in deutsch.
An irritated shrug was all she would offer.
‘The Gypsy wasn’t with her. He was in hiding, was he not?’ said Boemelburg quietly.
Ah damn him. ‘I don’t know. How could I?’ she winced.
Her throat constricted. ‘The Spade was useful to us,’ said Boemelburg, reverting to French, ‘but now that he’s gone, you and the others are our only leads.’
‘Then bring us all together, Sturmbannfuhrer. Let us tell you what we know. We’ll help you in any way we can,’ she pleaded.
‘Where were you last Wednesday night?’ he asked flatly.
Herr Engelmann was incensed at the continued use of French. ‘I … I was at the Club Mirage.’
‘And during your breaks?’ asked Boemelburg.
‘In my dressing-room. Your … your Listeners should have a record of it.’
‘Those tapes are mostly silent.’
‘Then please ask the Rivard brothers, the owners. I did not leave until after the curfew had ended at five on Thursday morning as you well know.’
‘The explosives …’
‘She’s lying,’ said Engelmann in deutsch. ‘There were no other terrorists. She went willingly with De Vries to the quarry.’
‘Bitte, ja? Herr Max. I wish to get a sense of things. You will have your chance with her, never fear.’
‘There … there were six of them, Sturmbannfuhrer, and I am certain one of the three who came with us mentioned a campsite in a forest, at some ruins. I swear it. I wouldn’t lie to you. There … there is too much for me to lose.’
‘The Chateau Theriault and your son.’
‘Yes.’
More cognac was called for and again she found herself staring at it and unable to lift her eyes to him.
‘Did he scream?’ asked Boemelburg.
She leapt. Her drink was spilled. ‘He … he must have,’ she blurted, forcing herself not to burst into tears. ‘The … the rabbits shriek when blinded. It’s a despicable practice and, yes, I’ve seen it done.’
Ah Sweet Jesus, save her now, she thought, quickly draining the refill he had given her.
‘Why will you not co-operate?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want to see you hurt, Mademoiselle Arcuri. The people who do those things are not nice.’
She tried to speak but couldn’t. Furious with her, he told Engelmann to bring the veterinarian. ‘You, go and sit on the bed and keep silent.’
Pale and badly shaken, Suzanne-Cecilia was hustled into the room and thrown into the chair. Terrified, she tried to make herself as small as possible but they shone the light on her. The nightgown she wore was thin and someone else’s. Wounded, her dark brown eyes lifted furtively to them only to duck away as she was struck once, twice, three times, not knowing what had been said to them, not even knowing if she had been betrayed.
The thick auburn hair was dishevelled. The long lashes and perfect eyebrows were knitted as she cringed in pain, Gabrielle realizing in that moment that Ceci had earlier worn Marianne St-Cyr’s clothes and that they had fitted her perfectly.