Hastily Hubert Quevillon pushed that hank of hair back off his brow. ‘But I was able to gain access to that little nest of theirs in the Hotel Grand and to watch the circus through a crack in the bedroom door.’
‘Hubert …’ tried Delaroche.
‘Toute nue, the legs spread and down on her knees with Morel’s bitte in her hands and …’
‘HUBERT! that is enough,’ snapped Garnier, impatiently flicking cigarette ash into that palm of his. ‘The inspectors asked if you had noticed anyone else tailing the Barrault subject.’
‘Yes, did you notice others were “investigating” the woman’s private life?’ said Hermann.
‘Isn’t that what an agent prive does?’ countered Quevillon. ‘Ville shy;neuve, the manager of the Cinema Imperial, did tell me that others had been making enquiries. With women like that it’s understandable, is it not? The Barrault subject needed the part-time work and he gave her just enough of it to have the use of her and often.’
Oh and did he? asked Kohler silently. Quevillon avoided glancing at the colonel and for a moment no one could find a thing to say but was this twit of an agent prive confident they couldn’t be touched? Delaroche, having tired of his cigar, had quickly stubbed it out, then polished off the last of the Romanee-Conti, one of the finest of Burgundies, if not the finest and once given to Louis XIV spoonful by patient spoonful, the Sun King’s doctors thinking it might cure the great one’s painful fistula, an outright case of gastric ulcers, no doubt.
Quevillon lit another cigarette, his fifth, or was it the sixth? ‘I have the proof,’ he said, tasting it too. ‘Sworn statements from the cinema’s staff as well as from its manager.’
‘But … but, monsieur, these others who were tailing her?’ asked Louis, gesturing companionably with that pipe hand of his. ‘Could we not have …’
‘Those others, Inspectors, also didn’t maintain their surveillance,’ said Garnier flatly.
‘But were they the same two as with the Guillaumet investigation?’ insisted Louis as if he believed every word of what had been said.
‘That’s correct but we didn’t see them,’ said Garnier. ‘It was only after having been given a description of them, that Villeneuve of the Imperial became certain they were the same. We didn’t expect anyone else to have been tailing the subject, Colonel. Ah! perhaps a slip-up on my part, the need always to be in more than two places at once. One of the usherettes must have let them know we’d been in and asking questions.’
‘Okay, okay,’ breathed Hermann, apparently jotting it all down. ‘Louis and me, we’ll have to check it out. Now give us what you can on …’
Deliberately he thumbed through his notebook, going well back into other investigations before thumbing forward just to let them know the partnership didn’t fool around. ‘Give us what you can on a Father Marescot.’
Had the bell of that church just sounded? wondered St-Cyr, for each of them had glanced at the others.
‘The priest of the Eglise de Notre-Dame de Lorette, Colonel,’ offered Garnier, having somehow silenced his subordinate. ‘The good father couldn’t tell me what the Barrault subject had revealed in the confessional she repeatedly subjects herself to out of guilt, but he did go so far as to say she had damned herself before God, as had all of the others who attend those special Masses of his and that … yes, yes, he had personally written to the Scapini Commission some time ago demanding that they inform the husband.’
‘A prisoner of war,’ said Delaroche with a sigh, sadly shaking his head. ‘Far too many of their wives are simply taking advantage of their absences. Is it any wonder there has been both outcry and retaliation, especially since our boys can’t defend their property or even have the use of it?’
‘They’re all making sluts of themselves,’ said Quevillon. ‘Chatte is so common these days, one can get it for a half a cigarette the hour and more if one insists.’
The salaud! ‘But had anyone else gone to that priest with a similar inquiry?’ asked Louis, patently ignoring the use of ‘property’ and all the rest.
‘I had no need to ask,’ went on Garnier. ‘Father Marescot offered the information as was his duty as a concerned citizen. Tell them, Hubert.’
‘With pleasure. We weren’t alone, Inspectors. “A woman comes,” he said. “She is older than that one by a good twenty years and doesn’t have to drag around an eight-year-old daughter.” ’
‘Madame Morel?’ asked the termite, as startled by the news as was his partner.
‘Gaston is known for his affairs,’ said Delaroche amicably. ‘Before this Defeat of ours he employed the Barrault subject’s husband as a lorry driver, clearly putting the woman in debt to him. What better a conquest than the stepsister of one’s wife, especially when poverty and loneliness cause such women to do things they might not otherwise agree to.’
Like getting down on their knees for hire, was that it, eh? wondered Kohler. Surete that he was, Louis glanced at that wristwatch of his whose crystal had been cracked in that other war but would never be replaced, for it was at once a shining example of French frugality and constant reminder of what he had survived when so many others hadn’t.
‘Ah, bon, Colonel, for now the wrap-up, I think. Attacks are being committed all over the city. The wives and fiancees of prisoners of war, though not the only victims, are being singled out, wedding rings demanded, handbags stolen, et cetera, et cetera. Gestapo Boemelburg, at our briefing this afternoon, told us that he feels certain there is a gang at work, that the attacks are being planned and carried out with military precision backed by exceptional sources of information and that the violence is being deliberately escalated because the defeat at Stalingrad has made such criminals bolder, but with the result that Berlin has been constantly on the line demanding an immediate end to the crimes and a return to safety on the streets.’
Ach du lieber Gott, how had Louis got it all out in one breath? wondered Kohler. A cigar had best be taken, one for him too, the colonel’s cigar cutter borrowed indefinitely.
These two, thought Delaroche, each was so very different yet they were the same. ‘And that is why the Hoherer SS Oberg has engaged the Agence Vidocq in the matter, mes amis, and wishes you to join us when we meet with him at 1000 hours Monday, the avenue Foch.’
‘Head Office, Louis,’ breathed Hermann. ‘I told you but you never listen, do you? That’s why I went there right away.’
‘But what did you find and when did you visit Herr Oberg’s office? Come, come, Inspector,’ demanded Delaroche. ‘Is it not time you let us in on what must have happened to Elene Artur? If we are to work together, and I am certain that is what the Standartenfuhrer Langbehn will insist on, then it is best we know everything.’
‘The Standartenfuhrer?’ blurted Louis.
St-Cyr had just been kicked in les joyeuses but surprise had best be registered. ‘Ah, mon Dieu, is it that you have already met?’
‘Briefly. Colonel, who, exactly, is to be at that meeting?’
Such caution was admirable, but why had Jeannot not returned? Had the Dunand girl given trouble? ‘Myself, my partner, Jeannot Raymond, Flavien, of course, and Hubert, yourselves also and I believe a translator, a Blitzmadel, Sonja Remer, who was, apparently, a victim also of this tidal wave of street violence and crime.’
Oh-oh, here it comes, thought Kohler, sighing inwardly.