Bellringer (43 page)

Étienne would, of course, know all of this. Refusing to become a sitter, he had taken a chair among the silent onlookers who had crowded in after Madame Chevreul and the sitters, and now sat with rapt attention as in a courtroom whose doors had been firmly closed.

Léa Monnier stood directly behind Madame Chevreul, a pillar of strength and loyalty throughout all the years of their having known each other. Hortense Gagnon, Madame’s cook, was among the sitters, the chief inspector choosing not to be at Madame’s right but directly opposite, with a now-silent yet still-enraged Madame de Vernon between him and Herr Kohler.

Freed of the handcuffs too, Nora sat alone among the other sitters. Jill and Marni had Becky between them and were directly opposite her, the seating arrangement being such that she could see them at all times if her eyes were opened, and they and others could see her.

Jen had died; Jen had been poisoned, but had it really been by Madame de Vernon?

There had been no sign or mention of the things Jen had taken, nor of the meal she had eaten, yet was that what worried Madame de Vernon so much or rather, was it that Madame Chevreul really did know what had happened here in the casino on the night of 17 July, 1920?

Caroline had been silenced, Mary-Lynn had been pushed, but of Weber and the Senegalese and the other two who had been killed in the Chalet des Ânes, none here knew but her, Madame de Vernon, and the two detectives. St-Cyr had warned the woman to keep the information close, just like everything else if she valued her freedom and supposed innocence. He and his partner would let Cérès have a say and then would, if necessary, challenge the goddess.

Madame Chevreul knew only too well that her reputation as a medium had been deliberately put on trial and that all the privileges that had been earned with the position, the rooms upstairs and such, could be lost. Wearing a superbly embroidered robe of closely woven white wool that trailed to slippered feet, her jewellery starkly evident, she had dipped the wineglass and raised it as one would a chalice. All eyes were now to be tightly closed, hands held and heads bowed—Léa would do her best to see to this, but of course one could catch a glimpse now and then if one persisted.

There was a pause that extended as though an intense inner struggle were in progress, the words not coming easily but finally as if lifted from Madame Chevreul. ‘Then a spirit passed before my face,’ she said, the voice other than her own, ‘and the hair of my flesh stood up.’
*****

Herr Kohler would probably be silently asking his partner if this was necessary, thought Nora, St-Cyr cautioning him with a ‘Patience,
mon vieux
. Patience.’

‘It stood still, this spirit,’ the woman went on, ‘but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes; there
was
silence, and I heard a voice saying. . . ’

Again there was a lengthy pause, again a different voice but as if from a great distance and saying, ‘Call now, if there be any that will answer thee.’

A sip was taken, the water from La Grande Source cold. ‘Cérès,’ she began. ‘Cérès, can you hear me?’

There was dead silence. Not a soul moved. Again the question was asked, and again. ‘It’s of no use, inspectors,’ said Madame Chevreul. ‘I greatly fear there is a doubter in our midst.’

‘But you’re convinced Becky Torrence killed Caroline Lacy to protect herself?’ asked St-Cyr.

‘
Oui.
’

‘And that Nora Arnarson accidentally. . . ’

‘Or deliberately, in the heat of argument.’

‘Pushed Mary-Lynn Allan, not realizing that the lift gate was open?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Perhaps Cérès needs the sound of your bell.’

Taken aback, she tossed her head. ‘Really, Chief Inspector, I am earnestly committed to obtaining the answers you need. Cérès can and will provide, but all must be in trine. None must doubt. Even Étienne, though the teachings of the Mother Church condemn what I do, still has the will to respectfully remove himself from the circle while listening with eyes closed, and I would earnestly suggest that you and Herr Kohler do likewise.’

‘But of course. It’s only that throughout this investigation we had been given to understand we should consult a ringer of bells. At first we thought this must be the brother who, in addition to those on Angèle, rings the one for vespers.’

‘And you rang one for Léa to bring your breakfast while I was there,’ said Herr Kohler. Opening the hessian sack he had brought from the chalet, he took out Bamba Duclos’s little basket and rang its bell to emphasize things further.

‘Duclos is nothing but an impostor, inspectors. The very idea that he could even begin to compete with my powers and cause me the slightest concern is ridiculous. The mere posturing of a fraud. I alone possess the ability to cross the threshold and, through Cérès, to reach those who have passed over. I who sit here before you in this circle of circles, bring back word from them. Words, need I emphasize, not only of endearment, but words that have been proven true and absolute.’

‘But there is only one bell that will work, isn’t there?’ asked St-Cyr. ‘And I have it here.’

‘My talisman. . . ’

‘Your gris-gris, madame.’

Four-sided, it was as if two isosceles triangles had been placed base to base, thought Nora. In all, it was about three centimetres in length, by half that across, and was flat and no more than a few millimetres in thickness. Some kind of polished stone, perhaps, or enamelled surface.

‘An Art Deco pendant,’ said St-Cyr. ‘When first seen, I thought, as you have claimed, Madame Chevreul, that it was but a bit of costume jewellery of no consequence, for that is the impression a first and hurried glance might well give, depending on the lighting and circumstance. The chain, however, is of very fine, cubic silver links each of no more than a millimetre to a side.’

He waited. He dangled it in front of himself.

‘A trinket, as I stated, Chief Inspector. A chain was needed and I took one I had.’

‘Élizabeth, surely there can be no harm in telling him?’ asked Brother Étienne.

‘So that he can make a fool of me?’

‘So that he can help you, I think.’

‘You see,’ said St-Cyr, ‘Colonel Kessler firmly believed that Cérès could give us the answers you claim she can. Why else his desperately shouting “a bell ringer,” as he must have, to the Kommandant von Gross-Paris when the telephone line to Paris began to fade after urgently requesting our presence? A man, I should add, who had, against his every effort, been hastily recalled to answer certain charges and face a court-martial.’

There was shock and then a chilling and defiant silence, thought Élizabeth. None glanced questioningly at another, all eyes remaining on her. Everyone was waiting. Everyone would believe her an absolute fraud if she failed to go through with it.

‘Very well. It shall be as you insist, but the Arnarson girl is to leave the circle.’

‘She’s welcome to my chair,’ said Brother Étienne. ‘I’ll stand at the back.’

‘With her and where you belong, Étienne.’

‘Of course.’

‘Mademoiselle Arnarson,
un moment s’il vous plaît,
’ said St-Cyr. ‘Examine this talisman closely and give us your professional opinion.’

Iridescently mauve and mottled, it was lovely in a curious way, and was backed by sterling silver, and as she held it, Nora couldn’t help but say, ‘I always wondered but could never get a close enough look because Madame dangles it in front of herself until séance contact has been initiated and then lets it and its chain coil into her left hand, which closes about it until again needed.’

‘And?’ asked St-Cyr.

‘It’s of alexandrite, a type of chrysoberyl from the Urals.’

‘Which was discovered, Hermann, in 1833 and named in honour of the teenaged boy who would later become Tsar Alexander II.’

The chief inspector had switched on the flashlight, under the beam of which she now held the pendant.

‘Chrysoberyl is very hard, and next in hardness after diamond and corundum,’ said Nora. ‘When cut and polished as this is, or simply uncut, it’s iridescent but dominantly emerald green in daylight or, as now, in artificial light, mainly reddish. Hence it was thought of as being magic. In daylight, the emerald, but at night the amethyst, this one of a pale pink to violet. Inspector, if you look closely at this mauve area, you’ll see that there are many parallel striations, all of which are very close and equally spaced. Those are minute cleavage planes—there are three sets of them and along the dominant one the stone can most easily be cleaved. They pick up the light, absorbing and refracting it and changing the colour, depending though on the source and nature of that light.’

‘A magical stone. Is it valuable?’

Mary-Lynn wouldn’t have wanted her to look at anyone but Madame Chevreul. ‘It’s very rare and much sought after.’

‘
Ah, bon, merci
. For now please join the brother. A trinket, madame?’

‘Élizabeth, did I not tell you what was best,’ came that basso profundo voice.

‘All right, damn you, I purchased it because I fancied it. Was that a crime?’

‘Purchased when Art Deco was beginning to come into vogue?’ asked St-Cyr.

‘Yes!’

‘Purchased after that husband of yours had passed over, leaving you a healthy estate?’ asked Hermann.

‘Really, inspectors, I do not need nor wish to answer that or anything else. This séance—’

‘But had best, madame,’ said Louis.

‘All right, that, too, is correct but I didn’t kill him as some have maliciously suggested.’

‘We’ll get to Madame Vernon soon enough,’ said St-Cyr. ‘Like your rings and bracelet, Léa Monnier saved this for you when the internment camp was first at Besançon in the old French Army barracks on the plateau above that town. Like many, you fell ill that first winter. The conditions were utterly deplorable and shameful to me as a Frenchman, some of whose fellow citizens were entirely responsible—open to the winter’s wind and weather, vastly overcrowded and with only three latrine pits outside and far too little to eat, but somehow she managed to nurse you back to health and all the while, and especially when your suitcase was searched on arrival and such jewellery would most certainly have been confiscated and a worthless receipt given, she hid them.’

‘In my bras, my step-ins, and inside of me,’ snorted Léa. ‘Was that a crime?’

‘As far as Hermann and I are concerned, not at all, but the pendant found a new use here. To induce a trance, the medium uses self-hypnosis and breath control. Chevreul, the nineteenth-century hypnotist, popularized the use of a pendulum. The subject to be hypnotized was told to concentrate on its gentle swaying.’

‘Inspector, really. How has this any bearing on your inquiry?’ asked Élizabeth. ‘How I reach clairaudience need not concern us.’

‘Were it not for one aspect, madame. The chalice, please, and a little water. No, I am not thirsty.’

Dangling the pendant over the glass, he lowered it to just at and below rim level.

‘
Écoutez bien, mes amies. Voilà,
our Bellringer.’

The tone was low but resonant enough and when some of the water was poured out, and then a little more, the tone rose higher and higher until it was bell clear and beautifully resonant.

‘Yesterday, madame, when we first met, I asked of Chevreul. You said he was a distant relative.’

‘Of my husband’s, yes.’

‘So it was in keeping with his memory that you should use this stone as a pendulum to induce self-hypnosis since all others round the circle were to have their eyes tightly closed. Questions would be asked. If Cérès was there and could hear you, the bell would be rung.’

This
sûreté
waited. He didn’t say a thing. He simply rang it one more time.

‘You questioned Jennifer Hamilton and Caroline Lacy at length prior to agreeing to let the latter become a sitter,’ said Herr Kohler.

‘I did. I was in my cabinet, in that room of rooms which you had the audacity to invade without my permission.’

‘First the palm readings,’ said Kohler, ‘the tarot, the Ouija board and crystal balls, but when the bell rang, it did so from inside that enclosure of yours, you signalling to them that each answer given had been accepted and that you were satisfied.’

‘That is correct.’

‘But then that pendant was stolen, madame, and you had to know who had taken it,’ he countered. ‘You needed it. You were desperate.’

‘All right, I was. Does that satisfy you?’

‘But stolen when, madame?’ asked St-Cyr.

‘After their fourth visit. It. . . it was always kept on my dressing table with. . . with everything else of mine when not in use.’

‘Set down in haste?’ he asked, taking out his pipe and tobacco.

‘I. . . I was called away.’

‘To Herr Weber?’ asked Hermann.

‘
Oui
. Marguerite came to tell me I had been urgently summoned. Léa and Hortense went with me.’

‘And the interconnecting door between your bedroom and the other and its cabinet, was it locked?’ asked Herr Kohler.

Ah, damn him, damn him. ‘Always but. . . but I may not have done so that one time.’

‘It’s as the goddess would have informed us, Louis. Even though her maid was still present, and that thing was pinched, Madame still agreed to allow Caroline to become a sitter.’

‘I felt it best so as to keep an eye on them.’

‘Yet it’s a puzzle,’ said St-Cyr, gesturing with that pipe of his, ‘since the thief from whom it has been recovered stole only items of virtually little use or monetary value.’

Lighting the pipe, he didn’t take his gaze from her. ‘Mine was the exception,’ she said.

‘But Jennifer Hamilton didn’t know that, madame. Her kleptomania took over, and in the haste to have something of yours, she thought as we first had and you had claimed, that it was some inconsequential thing. But in that exception lies the solution to this whole matter.’

‘Caroline wanted to know what had happened to Madame Vernon’s husband,’ said Kohler, lighting himself a cigarette. ‘Jennifer encouraged her because Jennifer had been and still was, very much in love with that one.’