“I’m looking for a houseboat that was moored along here recently, fairly old but with a newly painted green cabin.”
“A lot of houseboats along here,” he said. “They come and go.”
“This one was owned by a tall, Pakistani man. You may have seen a very pretty lady go aboard.”
“Ah oui,” he said. “Now I know the one.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“The police took it. Yesterday, I think.”
“I see. Thank you.”
“I assume the man who owned it is in trouble.”
“You might say that,” Hugo said. He turned to go. “Merci bien. Et bonne chance.”
“I hope they let his girlfriend go, though.” The old man shook his head. “Too pretty to be in jail, that one.”
Hugo turned back. “What do you mean?”
“She was down here an hour ago. Arrested.”
Arrested? That wasn’t right, if she were in custody, Tom would know. And so would Hugo. “The police arrested her here?”
“Oui.” The old man wiped a finger under his nose. “Not even an hour ago. She came down here, looking for the boat. The flic was waiting for her.”
“Wait, you said ‘the flic.’ Just one policeman?”
“Oui.”
“What did he look like?”
“Not like any policeman I’ve seen before. Not in uniform, so I assume undercover or something. Little man, nasty looking. He had short hair and shifty eyes, and these big hands.” He shook his head again. “I was right there when it happened. Poor girl, she was terrified. Didn’t resist, but he still threatened her with the gun.”
“Did he handcuff her?”
“Oui,” said the man.
Hugo’s heart sank and he thanked the man again and went over to Claudia and asked for her phone.
“Tom, it’s Hugo. We were too late, he kidnapped Amelia Rousseau from the quay an hour ago.”
“That right? Then hop aboard your steed, my friend, because I just found out where the bastard lives.”
Chapter Forty-two
The Scarab held her hand as they went up the stairs. He didn’t think she’d fight; it wasn’t that. More because he wanted her not to be afraid, to trust him and understand how important she was to him.
She slipped once and he chided himself for not keeping this area cleaner, but the smell of urine and garbage seemed to have settled into the concrete itself. She was so beautiful, so delicate, so perfect. It was only inside that they’d be safe and secure from the world.
As he unlocked his front door, she saw what lay inside and pulled her hand out of his with a small cry, stepping back, her pretty eyes wide with fear.
“Come. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said. When she shook her head, the Scarab grabbed the chain between the handcuffs and drew her closer. “It won’t help. Nothing will change what has to happen.”
“Why is that there?” Her voice was a whisper. “What are you going to do?”
He smiled, wanting to reassure her, but instead she recoiled and his face hardened. He led her to an old radiator in the living room, watching as her eyes skittered around the room as if looking for danger or, he thought, hope.
He unlocked one wrist and looped the open cuff around a metal pipe that fed water to the radiator, enjoying the sound of the steel teeth as they chattered closed.
“Wait here, please,” he said, as if she had a choice.
He left the apartment and went upstairs, walking into the old woman’s place and looking around, making sure no one else had been there. A smell came from the bathroom that wrinkled his nose, like meat left out for too long, getting ready to spoil.
The girl was still wrapped up, the blanket soiled and sticky. He picked her up, cradling her like a baby, looking down at the strands of red hair that flopped out of the top of her wrap. He started down the stairs but as he got close to his apartment door he heard footsteps coming up to meet him. He jumped down the last few stairs and shouldered his door open.
The girl swung her head toward him and raised her free hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes settled on the body he carried and she shook her head slowly in disbelief.
“Non, non …”
“Be quiet!” he hissed.
He placed the dead girl on the floor and went out onto the landing. He kept a hand on the.22 in his pocket and waited for his downstairs neighbor to reach him.
“Salut,” the man said. “I thought I heard something strange from your place, I wanted to make sure someone wasn’t breaking in.”
“Everything’s fine,” the Scarab said.
The man hesitated. “Bien. Then I’ll leave you to it.” He started to go but turned back. “Do you know if anyone’s going to do something about the smell in this stairway?”
“Oui, moi,” said Villier. “I’m going to take care of that today.”
“Oh, good. We’re heading out of town, going camping for a week in the Loire. It’ll be nice to come back to a cleaner place.”
“When are you leaving?” Villier asked.
“Right now.” He gestured over his shoulder. “They’re in the car waiting, we were packing up when I heard … those noises.” He looked at Villier for a moment. “You sure everything’s OK?”
The Scarab tightened his grip on the gun. “Yes.”
“D’accord. I was in the basement, it’s where we keep our tent. I saw some bundles with wires sticking out of them.” He grinned, but uncertainty lay in his eyes. “You’re not going to blow the place up are you?”
“Non.” Villier forced a smile. “They are smoke bombs, for the bugs. I saw some cockroaches, thought I should get rid of them before they spread. It’s good that you’re going away, I’ll make sure it’s all done by the time you get back. Have a safe trip.”
“We will.” The man waved a hand as he started back down the stairs and Villier watched him all the way, leaning over the iron railing to see him climb into the passenger seat of the couple’s red car. He smiled as they drove out of the parking lot and turned into the street. The building needed to be empty of people for what was going to happen.
He went back inside and found the girl crumpled on the floor and sobbing, one arm raised by the radiator as if she had a question. She looked up at him. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream. I’ll scream until someone hears me.”
The tears choked her words but he could see that she meant them. He shook his head, wanting to be kind. “No one will hear you. But please don’t scream, it will spoil things. A little.”
Her head sank and he stooped to pick up the whore, the smell of her filling his nostrils. He left the door open to prove to the girl that no one was there to hear her scream, and carried the whore downstairs and across the parking lot to the dumpster. He heaved her in with a shrug of his square shoulders, swatting her foot with his hand when it hung over the edge. He headed back to the building and went up to the old woman’s apartment. He picked her body up, out of the tub, noting that she smelled different, as if death had settled in quicker. She was lighter, too, which helped.
He paused to look in at Mimi, who cried out when she saw the old woman in his hands. “I’m not going to do this to you,” he said. “I promise.”
Not exactly.
When he’d dropped the old woman on top of the whore, he climbed up the stairs, the realization that everything was now settling about him. He stood on the landing and looked out over the parking lot, lifting his eyes to the darkening sky and smiling at the spread of orange that flowed across the horizon. The few clouds soaked up the color with their edges, like sponges hoping to paint the rest of the sky for him.