‘To say that?’ asked Kohler. ‘Hey, he refused to leave the business to you and chose instead your brother who was much younger, “a brilliant designer”, you said, and also well married.’
Bâtards! he wanted to shriek at them but said levelly, ‘Father thought Bernadette corrupt. He felt that once I had passed on, she would sell everything and get out.’
End of family, end of name. ‘So a flat was needed,’ sighed Louis, drawing them right back to the matter at hand.
‘Liline struck her own bargain. She would let me choose the location and arrange for the flat but would decide on the one to live in it. We would not come together here but only there. It was far too awkward, she said.’
‘Too damned dangerous, you mean,’ snorted Kohler. ‘A wise girl, but not clever enough, since the boy she chose would never have slept with her, and that wife of yours found this out.’
‘What’s Bernadette done?’ he hissed, his voice harsh and breaking at last.
Kohler let Louis handle things.
‘Please, monsieur, a moment, yes? and I will tell you how it must have been so that we understand each other. You forced that girl into an affair she did not want but was afraid to refuse for fear of disgracing her family and losing her father his job with your firm. Don’t pretend otherwise. This room of hers was designed to reflect it. Like all good art, it speaks from a soul in torment striving to reach out and touch the hearts and minds of others. She became pregnant, and you told her this was what you wished for more than anything. After the divorce, the marriage-with money, friends and power, even divorces can be arranged and quickly. But she was astute enough to realize Nénette, whom she adored and who trusted her implicitly, was the rightful heiress. So, what was to become of Nénette, please, once you and Liline were married and the child you had given her had been born?’
It had been a good attempt, he’d have to give the Sûreté that. ‘Nénette would continue to live with us and inherit everything when she came of age. If she married, her husband would then take over and administer the estate. That’s the law.’
Kohler found he couldn’t sit still. A fidgeter always, he got up to move around, took out his cigarettes and lighted one. ‘But Mademoiselle Chambert was not so certain Nénette would inherit a thing, eh? She feared you would put the child on a train to nowhere.’
One must remain unruffled by such insolence, ‘I beg to differ, Inspector. I thought of doing no such thing.’
Ah mon Dieu, mon Dieu, he was tough. ‘Then why, please, in her desperation did Mademoiselle Chambert turn to the one person she could trust the least?’ asked Louis.
‘Your wife,’ sighed Kohler, flicking ash. ‘The girl panicked. She knew exactly what you’d do to your niece.’
‘When confronted by Madame, Mademoiselle Chambert told her the truth and begged for help,’ said Louis.
‘Help she got!’ swore Kohler, crossing to the candelabrum to rattle its strands of beads as he snatched up the police photograph.
Thrusting it into Vernet’s hands, he said, ‘Look at it, you smug son of a bitch, and start talking or we’ll see you in hell.’
‘You will never be able to prove a thing.’
‘Monsieur, we will prove everything,’ said Louis sadly. ‘We have a habit of doing so no matter who is involved or how powerful.’
‘You’re hated by the SS of the avenue Foch. Even Gestapo Boemelburg, who depends on you to combat common crime, says your days are numbered. I have only to turn to either of them.’
‘Then do so and accept the scandal of your wife’s affair,’ snapped Kohler, trembling a little.
‘Tell me what you want.’
‘The Sandman,’ said Louis so gently it was but a breath. ‘Only you can help us. That wife of yours refuses.’
‘Then ask her in and I will get her to confess.’
All along the corridor there were panic-thoughts of running, but where could she go? Where? wondered Bernadette Vernet. The detectives with Antoine were waiting for her in that room of Liline’s, that room where so much had gone on. All the years of bitterness would erupt. She would throw herself at him, would try to tear his eyes out, eyes that had mocked her, defied her, passed over her to another and another. He had done it in this house … this house that was rightfully hers, not Nénette’s. Things would be shouted. Things no one else must ever hear. Her rage, her pent-up jealousy, the sly and wicked rejoicing of her fornicating with a boy from the gutters just to get back at him, the triumph at last that it had been settled … all settled, only to find that a stupid, stupid mistake had been made.
She came to the door and tried to stop herself. Her bare toes dug into the carpet. What are they thinking? she demanded, her heart racing. That she could not see herself cast out on the street in favour of another and one so young? That the Vernet wealth would no longer be hers and that she had had to stop it from happening, that she could not let him marry that little bitch!
Antoine would be smugly sitting in one of the armchairs. Would the pleasures of possessing Liline be there in memory, her breasts, her thighs, her beautiful cunt …? Was it beautiful, Antoine?
With a scream no one heard, she roared into the room and there he was standing between the two detectives. Antoine … Antoine …
He slapped her so hard and so swiftly that she ducked away in shock. ‘Bâtard!’ she swore.
‘Putain! Fille de joie! Paillasse!’ he hissed. ‘Horning yourself with a stableboy. Hah! did you not think I would discover what you had been up to?’
‘Pardon?’ she shrilled and ripped her nightgown open. ‘Roué! Fornicateur!’ She grabbed her breasts and held them out to him. ‘Suck … go on and suck them for nourishment, eh, or is it that hers were a little bigger, a little softer since we were both with child? Your child.’
Ah merde … ‘Madame …’ began Louis, only to hear Vernet laugh tauntingly at her.
She shrieked, ‘It has to be his-HIS!’ and held her belly, distending it in mockery of him.
Both detectives were taken aback and that was good, yes, good! thought Vernet viciously. He’d heap scorn on her. ‘It’s impossible, Bernadette. Please don’t make a mockery of yourself. Be dignified. You’re a Vernet. isn’t that right, eh? Walk to the guillotine with pride.’
She withdrew a little, planting her feet more firmly apart. ‘What have you said to them?’ she said gratingly, cocking her head sideways to hear him. ‘Well?’ she shrilled and yelled, ‘Debaucheur! Maudit salaud! Liline was not the first, messieurs. Ah no, no. There have been others. Tender little things. Two former maids he had to pay off. Schoolgirls if he could get them-yes, yes, I swear it! He did not use the brothels for fear of disease. He concentrated on the inexperienced because with them they gave him that feeling of immense power a man such as he requires.’
‘You always were unsatisfactory, Bernadette. With you there were never the cries of joy.’
‘Or despair.’
Ah nom de Dieu, de Dieu. ‘Monsieur-’
‘Piss off! Don’t interrupt. Let me finish this bitch once and for all!’
Kohler rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. Sex was the great leveller. High-class, low-class, sophisticated or not, they all went down into the sewers to fight it out. Every time.
Quivering, her face livid, she drew in a breath. Her dark brown eyes flashed hatred, hesitation and then uncertainty. ‘Well, what is it then? What have I done? Put holes in your condoms? You did that, Antoine. The little rips, the simple tears. What did you tell that shameful slut? That the rubber wasn’t so good these days?’ she mocked. ‘You got the poor thing pregnant. She was so stupid and naïve she didn’t realize what you were up to until it was too late. Did you offer her marriage when she discovered she was pregnant, eh? Well?’