Still he waited, saying nothing but giving no further hint of what he was really thinking. ‘When Lord Merrill finally got his wife out of jail, he sent her to the remotest of his country estates and kept her there without her ever being able to see their children.’
Still he didn’t say anything. ‘She killed herself with an overdose of white arsenic.’
Rat poison. ‘And the other one?’ he asked, but only after seeing that they were still quite alone, though some along the corridor were watching them.
‘Rebecca Thompson was twenty-three years old. Separated from the mob, she had run up a narrow lane to avoid the truncheons but was caught, beaten, and then savagely raped by no less than four men, each of them a bobby. The judge was solicitous and committed her to an insane asylum.’
‘While Élizabeth Beacham and Léa Easton volunteered to go to France for king and country.’
‘Eventually, yes, that is correct, insofar as I was told. The one as a nurse, the other as a truck driver.’
And now resident head juju woman and her number-one flunky. ‘So how is it that you know all this, and do the others in Room 3-54 and Room 3-38?’
She winced. She couldn’t help but do so, looked desperately away to the distant onlookers, then at his shoes, and only when her chin was lifted, at him. ‘I. . ’ The tears couldn’t be stopped. ‘I was told it by two of the British. They. . they grabbed me in the Hôtel Grand and forced me into the darkness of the cellars where they. . they said that if I ever told anyone who had said it to me, they would see that I never told anyone another thing.’
‘And Caroline, did you tell her of the suffragette past?’
‘I couldn’t. She. . she wanted so much to go to that séance, I had to keep it all to myself.’
‘How many times did you wander about in the Hôtel Grand by yourself?’
‘Lots, but. . but not after that happened. After that, I avoided the hotel like the plague and only later went there with Caroline.’
‘And did those British women ask if you had broadcast that choice bit of news about Madame Chevreul in the Vittel-Palace as they would have wanted you to?’
‘Twice, but I. . I told them I had to wait for an appropriate time.’
Both of her hands had been gripping the gate and she felt him freeing them, but all he said was, ‘Don’t be telling anyone else, not until I give you the OK. Now, I’d best find my partner.’
The lineup outside Herr Weber’s office was that of the silent and subdued. Becky was third from the far end, and when she saw St-Cyr approaching, she panicked and turned away, and when he came near, she flinched but still kept her back to him.
The aroma of spearmint was clear, her left hand surreptitiously opening near to that thigh to drop the crumpled sleeve from a stick of chewing gum.
‘Wrigley’s,’ he said, having picked it up. ‘Ah, bon, Mademoiselle Torrence, while my partner is probably now upstairs questioning others, a few small questions for you; nothing difficult.’
‘Here?’ she bleated, desperation registering in sky-blue eyes that rapidly moistened as she glanced at others in the line, others who had now taken a decided interest in the proceedings.
‘I won’t detain you long.’
‘But Herr Weber wants to see me.’
Ignoring her panic, he smoothed out the wrapper and its covering, folded them precisely in half, unbuttoned his overcoat, and tucked the silver paper and the other away in a waistcoat pocket.
‘We’ll let him wait if necessary.’
‘But. . but I haven’t done anything! I really haven’t.’
Pale and quivering, she was vulnerable. The cheeks were fair, though sunken, the lips those of the young, the nose not aquiline or overly Roman but dusted with freckles the colour of which the pallor increased. In all such things St-Cyr knew he searched for answers, and yes, Hermann’s accusations of being overly harsh were true at times, but answers were desperately needed. ‘Let these two go ahead. The theatre is empty. We’ll go in there.’
‘The theatre. .?’
Seat after seat was covered in wine-purple fabric, worn and faded by the years, the cigarette burns and spills all too evident, and from the seats came the stench of sour sweat and old tobacco smoke. Art Deco flames seemed to leap and fan out from along the side aisles and from the stage itself, above whose closed curtain hung a huge portrait of the German Führer and two swastika flags, one on either side of him.
‘Smoke damage from the fire in 1920 necessitated redecorating,’ he said. ‘Not bothering to replace the seats must have been a cost-saving measure.’
He indicated one of these next to where he was standing, then took the one directly behind, forcing her to awkwardly turn to face him.
‘The thefts, mademoiselle. What did you lose?’
‘Me?’ she yelped.
He waited. Not for a moment did he take those dark brown, ox-eyes of his from her, felt Becky. The mustache was bushy and wide and badly in need of a trim, as was the hair. Had he no time for such things?
There was the mark of a recent bullet graze on that broad brow. The nose had been broken several times but not recently. A boxer? she wondered, the smell of anise, wet wool, and old pipe smoke coming to her now.
Again he asked.
‘Me?’ she yelped again. ‘A photo from home of the dog we once had. A beagle. Harry. . his name was Harry. The fake gold compact my brother gave me on my sixteenth birthday. Its mirror had broken long ago and the catch was no longer any good but I couldn’t part with it, not here. . not in Paris, either. A letter from my mom. A button. It. . it was pink, from the cardigan she had knitted for me before I left for France in 1939, fresh out of college. I had set that button aside and was planning to sew it back on, but then. . then it was gone.’
‘Were others in the room at the time?’
‘Others? Caroline and Jennifer-yes, yes, Jennifer was there, and. . and Jill.’ What did he really want from her?
‘Madame de Vernon wasn’t present?’ he asked.
‘Jennifer wouldn’t have dared come if that woman had been in the room.’
‘And at that first session with Bamba Duclos, mademoiselle?’
‘We all went, all but Madame. Mary-Lynn had wanted us to try it. Nora. . Nora said, “Why not?” Marni. . Marni agreed. Jill set it up.’
‘Tell me about the items in his little basket.’
‘Was something stolen?’
‘Just tell me what you can recall.’
‘So that I can trip myself up if I’m the thief? I’m not, Inspector. I’m not!’
Hermann would have said ‘Go easy, now,’ but Hermann could sometimes let concern for the suspect intrude when least needed. ‘Was anything stolen from it?’
‘How would I know?’
‘But you went twice more, mademoiselle. You would have seen if something was missing.’
‘What? What was taken?’
He waited. He didn’t back off. ‘And I was near Mary-Lynn when she died, wasn’t I, and near Caroline too-that’s it, isn’t it? You think I did it. You’re just like Weber. Demanding everything and thinking the worst. He has a list he keeps. Did you know that? Names are crossed off, but mine keeps coming up and I’m being asked back again and again. I won’t squeal on my friends. I mustn’t. Sure we have our arguments-who doesn’t in a place like this, but I’d never rat on anyone. Everyone in that room of mine has been good to me except for Madame. I’d. . I’d kill myself if I did a thing like that to them or to anyone.’
‘Yet Herr Weber keeps asking.’
‘He doesn’t just ask, Chief Inspector. He tells me my papers aren’t very good and that a delegation from Berlin is coming to examine all those in the Hôtel de la Providence, and that he’s going to get them to check mine thoroughly. I. . I was late getting my visa, the last time I had to, and once one is late for such a thing in France, it’s on one’s record, isn’t it? Well, isn’t it?’