‘Love, yes, as I used to know it,’ said Jill.
Louis should have heard her! ‘And she was feeling sick the night she died?’
It couldn’t be avoided, thought Jill, and certainly Herr Kohler would know all about such things anyway. ‘I had found her being sick one morning about a month ago.’
‘OK, so every young lady needs a bit of company now and then and the Sturmbannführer couldn’t have done it by mail. Did he pay her an extended visit?’
It would be best to be harsh. ‘We don’t know who the father was,’ said Jill, ‘only that it definitely couldn’t have been him. She wouldn’t tell us.’
‘She was afraid to,’ said Nora. ‘You knew she was, Jill, and so did I. Sure, she was looking for a father figure. That’s why she was friendly with Colonel Kessler, the former Kommandant. She had never known her own dad, Inspector, and had always regretted this.’
‘Brother Étienne said he would find something for her,’ added Jill quickly.
‘And did he?’
‘We were never told,’ said Jill.
‘Holy bitter, Indian brandy, juniper or yew leaves. . ’
And Marni again, thought Kohler.
‘But also aloes and canella bark,’ she went on. ‘Rhubarb and nitrous ether; an emmenagogue in the hope the uterus will contract and get rid of the problem.’
Becky was looking positively ill, but what the hell had they agreed to hide? wondered Kohler.
‘Ignis sancti Antonii perhaps,’ offered Jill, again intently gazing at him.
St. Anthony’s Fire and an ecbolic if ever there was one. The deadly ergot fungus from rye flour or bread made from the same.
‘Apiol, Inspector,’ said Nora. ‘Petrosilium crispum or common parsley. Large doses of the leaves and stems, or the oil if distilled out, the apiol stimulating blood flow to the uterus, but apiol and the rest of the oil can cause polyneuritis and gastrointestinal haemorrhages if one’s luck has run out. Brother Étienne told her not to worry, that “The Grace of God invariably was on the side of the grazer,” and that if it didn’t work, he’d increase the dose.’
They had put the run on him to see if they could take the heat off themselves, thought Kohler. It was either that or to cover up for one of them. ‘Parsley?’ he asked.
‘Oui.’
Just what the hell was this trapper of theirs hiding? ‘And did he bring her enough last Saturday?’
Uh-oh, Herr Kohler did have a way about him, and the others would already have noticed it, thought Nora, especially Jill who, like everyone else in the room, had known of the parsley.
‘Well?’ he asked.
‘Late in the afternoon. He’d been delayed. A flat tire.’
‘His petrolette, Inspector,’ said Jill. ‘Our former Kommandant allowed him a small weekly ration of gasoline.’
‘So that he could make it from where to here and back?’
‘Domjulien. It’s about eight or ten kilometres if the road is OK.’ said Jill. ‘If not, he uses the cutter, a small, one-horse sleigh.’
‘The former Kommandant OK’d that too,’ offered Becky, having at last found her voice again. ‘The one who had to leave right after Mary-Lynn fell.’
‘The one who left us with that little Hitler who now runs the camp,’ said Nora.
The blonde had dried her eyes, the cigarette and the back rub having helped to steady her nerves.
‘And now another murder,’ she managed under his scrutiny. ‘What’s happening to us, Inspector? We’re the forgotten of this war, but has God also deserted us?’
‘Becky, you were out in the corridor,’ said Marni. ‘You had gone after Caroline.’
‘Me? Not likely. I’d have let her wheeze.’
‘But you didn’t let her,’ said Nora gently. ‘The corridor light was blinking on and off. She couldn’t see a blessed thing at first because it was pitch-dark. You know that as well as the rest of us. She was trying to get at one of her cigarettes when that damned light came back on. You had grabbed her by the wrist to steady her hand.’
‘Darkness. . ’ began Herr Kohler.
‘Night blindness,’ said Jill. ‘Caroline had been having a terrible attack of asthma.’
‘She was in tears, Jill,’ said Becky, ‘was very upset and madly searching for those damned cigarettes Madame had hidden on her and you then found. You did, Jill. Please don’t deny it. I got out of bed and turned the room light on and tried to calm her.’
‘Of course I found them, but then you went out into the corridor after her.’
‘Jill, you don’t know what you’re saying,’ said Becky with a wince. ‘We were nowhere near Mary-Lynn and Nora. Sure, we heard the scream and then. . ’
‘Then what?’ asked Herr Kohler, reaching for her cigarette to take a few drags himself.
He was looking at her now, but what did he really see? wondered Becky. The weakest link? ‘I. . I grabbed Caroline. She had started to run toward the elevator shaft when we. . we heard Mary-Lynn hit the bottom. The bottom!’
She went all to pieces. Nora moved; Jill did too. Both sat at her side and tried to comfort her. The cot sagged.
‘You held her, Becky,’ said Nora gently. ‘When I managed to get up the stairs, I saw the two of you. You saved Caroline. She would have died as well. I’m certain of it. She’d have chanced a look and, in her state and still trying to get her sight back, would have tried to get a breath and fallen.’
Yet hadn’t.
‘I lit one of her cigarettes,’ managed Becky. ‘I did get her to take a couple of drags. That’s all she really needed. Right away there was a change for the better. She even gave me a weak smile, only to again burst into tears.’
‘By then the rest of the floor were out in the corridor, Inspector,’ said Jill, ‘and others, too. Mrs. Parker soon came up and somehow got everyone calmed down, then closed the gate but couldn’t put the lock back on where it should have been.’
‘Caroline was upset, that it?’ he asked Becky.
‘We all were.’
‘But before that, before Mary-Lynn Allan fell?’
‘Yes. Then too.’
‘And was anyone else on the staircase when you went up it at 0100 hours or thereabouts?’ he asked Nora.
Herr Kohler wasn’t one to fool with. ‘Inspector, I was so dizzy, I really wouldn’t have known. I was drunk and seeing things. Worms crawling all over me, bats tearing at my hair. I. . I can’t remember a thing.’
Yet had remembered enough. ‘And during all of this, where was Madame de Vernon, your other roommate?’
Thank God, he had finally asked, thought Marni, but one ought to be careful, otherwise he would think she’d been pleased with the question. ‘In bed, where else?’
‘Yet Mademoiselle Caroline was having a severe attack?’
The poor man now looked so helpless, it would be best to tell him, but first her hands would be placed on her thighs and moved to her knees as if wanting him. ‘Madame de Vernon claimed it was all in the girl’s mind and that Caroline need never have the attacks if she would stop being so emotional and just stay calm and tell herself not to gasp for air.’
The redhead named Marni had lovely green eyes but the offer of the rest, though enjoyable no doubt, had best be ignored for now. ‘Well-liked, was she, this Madame de Vernon?’
Had he seen right through her? wondered Marni, disappointed by the thought but glad he had finally asked. ‘Hated, more likely. Nothing was ever right. The food, the lack of it, the room, the heat, the cold, the smell, the constant comings and goings in the corridor.’
‘Yes, but was the curtain drawn in front of those two beds?’
‘Every night.’
‘Then she might or might not have been in bed-that it, eh?’
The others were all holding their breath and intently watching him. ‘Yes. I. . I guess so.’
There was even a collective sigh. ‘OK, for now, enjoy your supper. I’d better find my partner.’
‘Is he un lèche-cul?’ asked Jill.
An arse-licker, a toady. ‘Hardly, but I’ll be sure to tell him to interview each of you, then you’ll know for sure.’