Bolduc was far from happy to see them at the reception.
‘Inspectors, I trust you are not going to be asking questions on such a sad and very private occasion. Please allow the families, their friends and associates, the decency of honouring their dead.’
‘Ach, we wouldn’t think of asking anything,’ said Kohler, ‘but perhaps you’d be good enough to tell us how much cash was lifted shy; from that van of yours?’
‘And why, if I might be permitted, did you, beyond the flimsy excuse given, show no interest in the absence of that van until we happened to tell you of it? Three days later, wasn’t it, Hermann?’
‘The porch. Come, come. Not here. Let them have their grief and a little sustenance. Yvonne, make excuses for me to Mesdames Deniard and Paquette. The latter is, of course, pregnant, the former no doubt as well, so the brutal killing of two of my most valued employees is very much on my mind.’
It must be. ‘Go with him, Hermann. Let me find that priest.’
And circulate.
The salaud! thought Bolduc. ‘Father Richaux no more needs to talk to you than yourself to him. He didn’t know either of the victims nor even the families. He’s a priest on call for such occasions. Jacqueline found him for me.’
‘Jacqueline … Ah, Mademoiselle … ?’ asked Louis.
‘Lemaire, and yourself, Inspector?’
Hair: light auburn; forehead: average; eyes: brown, space: medium; age: 32, height: 1.7 metres; weight: 50 kilos; clothing, apart from diamonds: designer mourning suit from none other than Paul Poiret, cost on the marche noir, a minimum of 12,000 francs. ‘It’s Chief Inspector, and this is Detektiv Inspektor Kohler of the Kripo.’
‘The one with the slash …’
She would impulsively yank off a glove, thought Jacqueline, to let a forefinger trace what the SS had given this one early last December, leaving everyone else who was anyone, to speak of it ever since, and he with his two women being held hostage at Gestapo Boemelburg’s villa by none other than Kriminalrat Heinrich Ludin. ‘The truth and nothing but it, eh? Hector, we shall have to be careful.’
Bolduc could sure pick them, felt Kohler. Clothed, as in the belle epoque of this place’s decor, she’d be like that reproduction on the wall of Tissot’s gorgeously seductive painting, L’Ambitieuse. Heady, just like that one, her fine hair swept up and back in defiance of the usual styles of the present day to reveal two of Cartier’s blanc exceptionel drops to match the much larger brilliant at her throat even when in mourning, and what a throat it was.
‘Hector, darling, let me leave you with the chief inspector for a little while I show this other one around.’
An open-air cafe or dance hall, in the old style of a guinguette, there were two parts to the restaurant on the Ile de Reuilly in the Bois de Vincennes’s Lac Daumesnil, felt Kohler. An inner room, still with the gaslights, was surrounded with end-to-end tables, place settings and Thonet bentwood chairs for eighty at least.
But beyond that room, equally spacious and with perfect views of the lake, the forest and a glimpse of the zoological garden with its six hundred animals and seven hundred birds, native and otherwise, was a latticed porch with climbing grapevines offering shade and temptation, and thoughts of the jungle.
One table had been set out here.
‘Hector would have had us sit with the others, himself right in the centre, for he can be of them when he feels it necessary, but Yvonne, not appreciating my presence, felt this more appropriate.’
‘Mademoiselle,’ asked the waiter, ‘the Moet et Chandon, the Taittinger or the Mumm?’
All three had been laid out on the tray, the glasses already filled and grouped accordingly, the hospice for the blind having been short-changed. ‘The first, I think,’ said Kohler.
‘And an excellent choice,’ said Jacqueline, he having chosen the very same as had been found broken open when Gregoire had gone to check the contents of that van. ‘Now, please, while we have this moment of privacy, tell me everything you can about these terrible murders. Otherwise I will have nothing to say to others, and you know what that must mean to a girl like me.’
She was even wearing Guerlain’s Eau de Cologne Imperial just like Yvonne Rouget would and had when Louis and he had broken into Bolduc’s office to find out all they could. ‘First tell me what you do?’
How did he even know she did anything other than please Hector? ‘Me?’ She would toss her head and give him an impish smile. ‘An escort service. Jour ou soir, it’s all the same. An entertaining, fully satisfying and most memorable visit. La tour Eiffel, the galleries, the Louvre and Catacombs, museums too, then a dinner or luncheon in nothing but the finest of restaurants.’
‘The Folies-Bergere, Noctambule, Lido, Moulin Rouge or Sheherazde?’
With bare breasts and bare bums. ‘Those, too, if requested.’
‘And breakfast?’
How mischievous of him. ‘If necessary, since clients are seldom here for more than a few days.’
‘Satisfaction guaranteed?’
‘It goes without saying.’
‘Any new ones of late?’
Zut, he would ask! ‘There are always new ones.’
‘Business good?’
Why had he to fire such questions at her? ‘Business is seldom what one desires, but has been immensely gratifying. If one works hard and is known for what one does, one is sought, isn’t that so? But me, I accept only clients of distinction. Bien sur, my girls fulfil what the clients want. The experience, it is positive, you understand, or the fee, less expenses, is returned. I’ve two shifts of twenty at present and rotate them every two weeks.’
‘Ages?’
Was he zeroing in on someone? ‘Eighteen, twenty, twenty-four or -six, even thirty. It depends. Sophisticated, of course. Knowledgeable and not just of Paris. Fluent in Deutsch-that is essential.’
‘Fee?’
Why, again, must he ask such a thing and so quickly? ‘It varies: 4,000 to 6,000 for an afternoon or evening, and whatever is necessary is placed on top of that.’
With the bed, couch, chair or carpet underneath. ‘Students?’
Ah merde. ‘Sometimes but it depends more on their willingness to … shall we say, forget their studies and be accommodating. For instance, a student of the violin at the conservatory must set aside her love of the classical to genuinely appreciate and enjoy the latest jazz.’
‘And dancing in a place such as this?’
‘If necessary. Why not?’
His shrug could well have been that of the uncaring, but then he said, ‘Ach, you must know.’
Running a finger lightly down his sleeve, she would move in a little closer to gaze raptly up at him as if a girl wanting nothing else. ‘Because it’s illegal? As are many things, yet still they happen and most people don’t even seem to mind. Now, please,’ she tapped his chest as one of his two women might, ‘a little refreshment and some sustenance. At least a croquette ou canape. Surely those are not out of the question, or does duty prevent you from enjoying yourself?’
The hot, or the hot and the cold. ‘Not at all when there’s shaved ham from Reims and smoked sausage from Champagne or Brie de Meaux and lots else like sardines, but you still haven’t given me the names of your latest clients?’
Damn him for his persistence! ‘My secretary will have those. Perhaps you could drop by the office later? Here, let me give you my card. It has the address and telephone number. Call ahead, and I’ll be sure to be there to answer fully whatever it is that you need and we can offer. Now tell me, please, about these terrible murders.’
There was only one way to let her know he wasn’t yet done with her. ‘Let’s take a stroll and leave that partner of mine to sort things out here.’ And grabbing a bottle of the Moet in case refills were needed, he took her by the arm.