Faith was glad for the Beaujolais. Tom's glass was empty and she tipped some more in, though strictly speaking, it was impolite for women to pour wine in France. The stricture was loosening, yet she was fairly certain in the country, the last bastion of tradition, it still held.
“Shall I begin then?" Michel asked.
“Not until we are there," came Clement Veaux's voice from the dance floor, and he and Delphine, hardly out of breath, climbed the stairs, grabbed another bottle of the Beaujolais from an empty table, and settled down next to Ghislaine.
“There is no one else expected?" Michel asked
“I wish Madame Vincent were here," Faith said a bit wistfully. They'd been spending a great deal of time together during the week. "I think she suspected Valentina all along."
“I have spoken with that excellent lady and you are correct. She watches much of what happens in the building and had formed a very negative opinion of Madame Joliet. But all in good tune, Faith. I think I will tell it as a story, because we are at a celebration and that is where stories get told—and where this one will be told for many years, I suspect." Ravier was clearly relishing his role.
“Your part of the story, man petit chou, started perhaps with a bored young man, smart, yet not smart enough to do very well and be interested in his studies or applauded by the adults around him. But he is handsome and has a great deal of charm. He has no trouble attracting girlfriends, particularly those like himself who are bored. His parents are busy and have little time for him. It is enough for them that he has grown up with a certain degree of politeness and intelligence. They suppose after his military service, he will study to be an avocat like his father or work in the bank of his uncle. Not the uncle who has disgraced the family, the d'Ambert upon whom all hopes once centered. The d'Ambert who was at ENA, the National School of Administration in Paris. The d'Ambert who was going to be, dare we say it out loud, perhaps President of the Republic. And eventually, the d'Ambert who discovered drugs and alcohol. We found this man, Guy d'Ambert, and that is how we know the story. He was trying to hide in a brothel in Marseille in the Old Port, although I do not think he has much sex drive left," Michel added reflectively.
“Does he know where Christophe is? And Valentina— did he know about them?" Faith asked.
“He does not know where Christophe is. Nor do we, unfortunately, but with all the police in Europe looking for him, it will not be long. I am convinced his parents had no knowledge of his activities. His mother has gone into seclusion with the younger children at her family house in Normandy and Monsieur d'Ambert is staying here to help us. He is as eager to find his son as we are and perhaps for some of the same reasons.
“Now getting back to Christophe's uncle. He vastly preferred being found by us to being found by his nephew and those he worked for. And yes, he knew about Valentina, has known for a long time. She and Christophe have been lovers for several years.”
Ghislaine gasped. "My poor Dominique and little Ber-thille, the babies! The boy was completely wild!"
“I do not know who seduced whom. Apparently, it was a very satisfactory arrangement for both and helped Christophe to ease his boredom. He must have recognized quite soon that Madame Joliet was not the type of neighbor lady who gave you milk and a biscuit. Together, they hatched the plan. She because she wanted to give him something to do besides lie in her bed, so he would stay there, and he because he wanted the money. But I am sure Christophe also derived a great deal of pleasure hi robbing his parents' friends and his own relatives, and involving their children. Out of luck or trickery, he almost never drew la courte paille, the short straw—I believe you, too, have this custom in the United States?"
“Yes," said Tom, "as well as spoiled and disaffected youth like Christophe."
“But he was more than that," Faith interjected. "He was a murderer."
“Yes." Ravier had been speaking in a light, almost humorous tone. His voice now became deadly serious. "Yes, as he revealed to you, he killed the clochard Bernard, We know from Guy d'Ambert that Bernard had discovered the jewelry in the bottom of the shopping bag one night. The others they chose were too far gone or too intent on collecting the hundred francs for delivery, if nothing had been touched, to look. Bernard smelled a rat, or rather something much more appetizing, thought he could get in on the action, and he got killed instead. If Faith had not served her pungent bouillabaisse to you all that night, but some veal, a few vegetables, they would have gotten away with it.
“Christophe enticed the clochard into the vestibule and poisoned him while his uncle, perhaps with Valentina, went to get Christophe's car. Guy had not the stomach to do the actual deed and part of why he is so terrified of his nephew is the exultation he observed on the young man's face after they dumped poor Bernard, almost naked and stone dead, in the Rhone.
“I'm sure they had some few moments of anxiety, but no one believed the crazy, although very-nice-to-look-at— yes, this from Martin and Pollet—American. Guy posed as the clochard for a day or two, one clochard appearing much like another, and they thought they were in the clear.
“Your friend Madame Vincent, by the way, was not sure it was the same clochard, either, but unfortunately decided to keep an eye on things rather than go to the police with her suspicions. This is quite a widespread problem in France," he added sternly.
“I saw her speak to him shortly before I did. I thought it was odd, since she had made it so clear that she had no sympathy for these people. As to not going to the police, perhaps she wasn't sure they would believe an old lady." Martin and Pellet's dismissal of what were clear facts still rankled with Faith.
Ravier had the grace to look embarrassed.
“Then why did they kidnap Faith?" Paul asked. "If no one believed her and Madame Vincent had kept quiet?"
“Two reasons and again luck, bad luck, has played a role in all this. I was out of town. Valentina knew I would listen to the story and the story had changed now. She has learned that Madame Fairchild has been in touch with the police and believes the clochard who was currently in front of the church to be an imposter, un faux clochard. She also hears that Faith believes Marie has been murdered. Valentina takes a cup of tea with Faith and Faith herself reveals I am away and she is trying to get in touch with me. Madame Joliet realizes she must act fast. Again from this Mad Hatter tea party, she knows where Faith will be Saturday morning and sets the wheels in motion." Pleased with his joke, he turned to the group and grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "We police also read the classics, you know."
“But from what you have been saying, it sounds like Valentina has more resources than a few school kids," Clement commented, ignoring the allusion to English literature.
“I never liked her. You remember, man mari, I have often said that to you." Delphine shook her head vigorously, causing her glasses to rest slightly askew on her long acquiline nose. She pushed them straight with her finger and nudged her husband to pour her another glass of wine.
Faith looked at Michel. "This is where Marie and the others come in, right? They were afraid of Valentina. It was Valentina who was controlling their trade."
“Exactly—Valentina's brothers, to be more precise. They were happy to get their sister's little shipments of trinkets every once in a while and they were, in fact, making a good business legitimately selling paintings, but they liked Ferraris, not Fiats, and as pimps, they operated out of reach of French law, with their devoted sister on the spot to keep the girls in line. Valentina decided the clochard had to go; it was her brothers who decided Christophe had to do it, an initiation of sorts. The same with Faith. They wouldn't be bothered to come across the border for such small stuff, but they—or those in their pay here—did Marie. That was meant to be a warning to the women not just here in Lyon but also in Marseille, Avignon, on the Cote d'Azur, and in Paris."