Elene Artur’s fitted case was set on the table, Kohler gripping its edges before springing the catches-why hadn’t it been taken? Why had it been left for this one to find? ‘Bob, stay. STAY, Bob. There’s my soldier.’
The half of a carrot stick was found. To be fair, what with all the other smells of pate, et cetera, around them, Bob couldn’t be blamed for not refusing it and was one damn fine dog. ‘Was Elene really the wife of a POW, Colonel? Let’s get that straight, just for the record.’
Had the salaud not even known? ‘Oui, I … I believe she was. Did she suffer?’
No answer was given. The case was opened, Bob watching closely. A hand mirror and comb and brush were deliberately set to one side, Kohler watching, Kohler knowing that they couldn’t see what was still in the case unless they got up and came round the table.
Beneath these items and such others, there would be the felt-covered pasteboard tray to which they’d been fastened. This tray was hinged and Kohler now lifted it up and out of the way.
‘Judge Rouget knew that wife of his was having him followed, Colonel. Maybe it had happened before, maybe someone was kind enough to have told him. Point is, he backed off and left that girl alone. Elene didn’t know what the trouble was. She knew, though, that she had done something that must have upset him, but didn’t know how he could possibly have found out about it.’
‘Go on. Please continue, since you seem to know everything.’
‘He’d taken to giving her his little gift beforehand in the Lido here and then not showing up at that flat of his. Kept her waiting night after night. That’s not good for a girl, is it?’
‘Get to the point.’
‘Certainly. When Lulu was taken, that daughter of his had come down here to ask if he would like a lift home, which he damned well should have done had he any sense. They argued-they must have. Maybe Elene caught sight of them and put two and two together, maybe Denise Rouget stormed the dressing room to confront the girl first. Something delayed Denise and gave Elene time to move. Germaine de Brisac got impatient and left the car running and Lulu alone in the backseat while she came here to find out what was the matter.’
‘And Elene knew where that dog would be because she had seen it often enough. You should be working with us, Kohler, but I won’t try to buy you off, since there is no need.’
‘You let the judge know that wife of his had hired you to follow him.’
Must Kohler continue to look for trouble? ‘Once I knew the extent of the problem, I felt it my duty as a friend and fellow member of the Interaliee to inform him of Vivienne’s concerns. Life with Hercule hasn’t been easy. That girl was but one of many.’
‘But he agreed to back off?’
‘For the time being, yes.’
‘Are you familiar with that flat of his on the rue La Boetie?’
There must be no hesitation. ‘Certainly, but are you aware that Judge Rouget has put it on the block and offered it also to our friends-your fellow countrymen? I, myself, was with him when he handed a set of keys to the estate agent.’
Louis would have appreciated the attempt. ‘Which one?’
‘I’ll have to ask our secretary. She’ll have gone home by now, but you can have it first thing on Monday.’
And no problem. ‘That’s good of you. I’ll keep it in mind.’
A change of blouse and slip, still neatly folded and beautifully laundered by the girl’s mother, were taken out of the case, a change of underwear and pair of white woollen socks, slippers, too, that Elene Artur had sometimes worn between sets and sometimes even in that flat, but had Kohler found the two thousand francs Hercule would have given her? Had the girl put it there and trusted that the others wouldn’t steal it? Had she done so in haste, realizing that it had to be saved and would be taken from her?
A candy-striped tricolour leg warmer with laddered runs and holes at the heel and toe, was dragged out-something she had been too ashamed to take home to that mother of hers to mend. Bob fidgeted. Others noticed the stocking. Eyebrows were raised …
‘It’s odd, isn’t it?’ said Kohler. ‘Detectives like Louis and myself are always searching for the little things and when we find them, we not only ask ourselves about them, but begin to look beyond the obvious. One stocking but two legs. Where’s the other one?’
‘Ah, mon Dieu, I have absolutely no idea. Stockings? How could I have?’
Louis had better not be in trouble. Louis had better be finding out all he could. ‘That dressing room, Colonel. Stockings like these are always chucked out of the way when a girl’s hurrying to get dressed. Frequent visitors like yourself must have seen the girls wearing them between sets if time allowed or at dance rehearsals. Bob even recognizes it, don’t you, Bob?’
The head was immediately lifted. From deep within him the answer came and with it a long and mournful baying that was as much of grief as it was of anything. ‘There, you see, Colonel. Bob loved her, didn’t he?’
‘Idiot, he’s friendly with all of them. She was just one of many.’
‘Ach, then let’s use him, eh? Let’s let Bob to find her other leg warmer.’
9
Again and again St-Cyr tripped the light switch. Fortunately the match didn’t shower sparks as he set the open packet on Hubert Quevillon’s desk, one every bit as tidy as Flavien Garnier’s. Here, though, the in-tray was empty-Quevillon must have been in earlier to clean it out. The other tray held a single file folder, thin and as if waiting for more.
‘The boys?’ he heard himself blurt.
Sickened, he blindly groped for another match as he stared at the photo. Downcast and in tears, they were lined up on the pavement, and behind them was the house at 3 rue Laurence Savart.
Returning Sonja Remer’s handbag hadn’t been enough. The names of Antoine Courbet’s sisters were on another slip of paper. Lovely girls Madame Courbet would never have allowed to fraternize with the enemy, Claudette, the oldest, having promised herself to a young man who was now in one of the prisoner-of-war camps.
A further note, in a different but far more professional hand, gave only, Standartenfuhrer Langbehn, 1000 hours Monday, ave shy;nue Foch, the note transferred by Quevillon from his in-tray, but had Gabrielle been taken to dinner and then arrested? The note had been signed by a Jeannot Raymond whose office must be next door.
Beneath the photo there was one of Giselle le Roy who had been caught unawares yesterday while leaving Adrienne Guillaumet’s building and must have been followed to the House of Madame Chabot where she’d been turned away, only to then realize she hadn’t been alone.
The desk drawers were locked and he had to wonder why, since Garnier had taken no such precaution. The secretary? he had to ask.
He was running out of matches and out of time. Lighting one of the few that were left, he got down beside the chair to peer under the desk. Had she known, Suzette Dunand could easily have opened the side drawers. These could only be locked when the central drawer was completely closed and the key turned fully round and to the right in its lock. Doing so tripped two hooks, one for each pair of side drawers, dropping a locking bar into place, which could then be released if one either pushed up or pulled down on it from beneath the desk, and then pulled back on the respective bar. Sometimes one went round to the front and felt behind the central drawer, for these hooks could also be located there, but were here at the back on either side as he had suspected. The central drawer remained locked, of course, for it needed the key but this could now be opened if …
‘Ah, bon, mademoiselle. Remind me to show you how this is done and what you’ve been missing. Hermann … Hermann, give me a little more time.’
The shops were closing. Soon, Suzette knew, there would only be those who were hurrying to the restaurant or leaving it much later if they had a pass. Alone with Messieurs Raymond, Garnier and Quevillon, she stood outside the Agence Vidocq. The last trains of the metro would leave at ten, the curfew was at twelve. Alone, she would be arrested for breaking the curfew, or maybe someone would follow her and, thinking she was selling herself to the Germans, grab her, beat her, tear her clothes …