Bellringer (45 page)

They paused, letting all of that sink in, thought Nora. Again Madame Chevreul looked as if she would faint, Léa now with both hands on the woman’s shoulders.

‘But Caroline refused to be silent, Hermann. She had seen what had happened.’

‘A glimpse if that, Louis, but one she was absolutely certain of, though she couldn’t tell any of them and went so far as to even claim she’d been the intended victim.’

‘Had also just argued with Jennifer and had, I’m sure, discovered not only that she had never been loved but that Jennifer had used her and had been the one who had been stealing things.’

‘A money cowrie was found in one of Caroline’s coat pockets,’ said Herr Kohler, reaching out to place it in Bamba Duclos’s little basket, ‘which she had, no doubt, planned to return.’

‘A Star of David,’ said St-Cyr, ‘was found crammed in a pocket—an object, Mesdames Chevreul and Monnier, that you told me Cérès had spoken of last night during the séance you held in the absence of that girl. Something about the Milky Way, I believe.’

Again there was a pause, but this time it grew into a silence so deep, Nora felt she could hear the sitters’ collective hearts pounding.

‘A meeting place was needed, Louis, and a person to whom Caroline could entrust the note she had hidden in her collar.’

‘Unfortunately,
mes amies,
Jennifer knew all about this and went straight to you, her lover, Marguerite Lefèvre,’ said Louis, ‘to tell you not only what Caroline intended but that she greatly feared the girl would tell the new Kommandant who the thief was.’

‘That would, of course, have got straight back to Weber. Léa was all ears when you consulted her, wasn’t she, Marguerite?’ asked Herr Kohler. ‘You went straight to him, didn’t you, Madame Monnier?’

‘And he, having good reasons of his own to be concerned, suggested the Chalet des Ânes and that he would leave its padlock open since no one would question his having been near it,’ said St-Cyr.

‘Kessler had been recalled, so Weber could well afford to wait and let them deal with it first, Louis,’ said Herr Kohler, ‘but only if you, Madame Monnier, swore you’d come straight to him the moment the meeting was over and knew its result.’

‘And when Caroline left her room to go to that meeting, Madame Vernon, she had good reason to say to you, “It’s not what you think. You’ll know soon enough.”’

‘Marguerite Lefèvre,’ said Hermann, ‘you were told by your mistress and Léa to wait inside that chalet to convince that girl to say nothing, to just leave it or else. The Americans were conveniently claiming Mary-Lynn’s death an accident. Why take it further and bring trouble, why not simply let it rest?’

‘You see,
mes amies,
’ said Louis, ‘no other weapon or evidence of there having been one was found, hence we presume that girl’s killer didn’t want to physically harm, only to warn, but perhaps Cérès should be asked.’

‘You’re right, you know,’ said Marguerite with a shrug. ‘I didn’t mean to kill her. It. . . it just happened.’

‘Caroline knew you and Jennifer were still madly in love and that she had been lied to,’ said Hermann.

‘She wouldn’t listen. By then she had that yellow star in hand and was thrusting it at me and in tears as proof of Jennifer’s stealing. I warned her. She backed away and said she’d been in love with a thief who had never been in love with her but had stolen her heart, and that she was going to tell the new Kommandant not only who had killed Mary-Lynn but who had been stealing things, and then. . . then she would tell everyone else.’

‘You snatched up that pitchfork,’ said Herr Kohler sadly.

‘And then tidied the corpse—an impulse, perhaps—so as to make it look like Jennifer had done it,’ said St-Cyr. ‘Even though still in love with her, you had to save yourself.’

‘Which leaves us with that sprig of beech and coils of bark, Louis.’

Nora knew she would have to tell them. ‘All right, I did go there but not until I saw Becky turning away. I had brought those for Angèle, but Étienne had used his
petrolette,
and I guess I. . . I must have dropped them in shock when I found Caroline like that.’

‘Which brings us now to another matter,’ said St-Cyr. ‘Marguerite Lefèvre, did you see Nora head towards that chalet after Becky had turned away?’

‘
Oui
.’

‘And did you not also see her from your windows, Mesdames Chevreul and Monnier?’

‘Since you know we did, so what?’ said Léa.

‘Hence Nora’s worrying that she would be pushed, Hermann, and Madame’s warning to us that Jennifer was in grave danger.’

‘Madame Vernon having hated that girl, offered answer to their little problem, Louis.’

‘You see, Madame Chevreul, you couldn’t have Caroline telling anyone that Jennifer had come to your maid for help and that Madame Monnier had then arranged for that meeting place, one that you could both watch even as the brother made a conveniently late arrival. Sergeant Matthieu Senghor, realizing that something was up, wisely ordered Corporal Duclos not to do as he had agreed.’

Again there was an uncomfortable silence.

‘A photo had been borrowed by Caroline from Madame Vernon’s suitcase,’ said Herr Kohler. ‘I take it Jennifer imparted that knowledge to you, Marguerite, and where a key to that suitcase was hidden in Room 3–38?’

‘Inspectors. . . ’ began Élizabeth, only to be interrupted.

‘Madame Chevreul, you had to silence Jennifer and put the blame squarely on Madame Vernon’s shoulders,’ said Louis. ‘You had no other choice.’

‘That’s why you told us Jennifer was in great danger,’ said Kohler.

‘And why Marguerite told Jennifer of the telex Herr Weber had received from Berlin this afternoon, Hermann, a telex with details of Nora’s background.’

‘And why Marguerite then gave Jennifer a little present,’ said Kohler.

‘Hortense. . . ’ began Madame Chevreul.

‘Your cook baked this pound cake, madame,’ said Louis, using his best
sûreté
voice. ‘It was admittedly a last desperate measure, even to making certain that enough seeds would be eaten no matter from which end a first slice was taken, but again, perhaps only a stiff warning was intended since
Datura stramonium
does not often kill.’

‘Now, let’s not keep that goddess waiting any longer,’ said Kohler, ‘but have her take us back to the night of 17 July, 1920.’

‘Madame Chevreul, you had just gone through a brief two years of marriage,’ said St-Cyr.

‘And had inherited plenty, Louis.’

‘And didn’t want nor need to repeat the same performance, had even registered here at the Hôtel Grand under your maiden name.’

‘Were free of all such encumbrances,’ said Kohler.

‘But found yourself wanting a little fun. The theatre, as Madame Vernon has told us, the séances and a little scheme which you had probably no intention of honouring, but then, ah then, Hermann, he wanted the gris-gris he had given her back.’

‘He wouldn’t listen,’ said Élizabeth. ‘He said I was just like her.’

‘Grasping, like his wife, clinging to your family money?’ asked Hermann.

‘Madame Vernon hit him, I didn’t.’

‘Let’s ask the goddess,’ said Louis. ‘We’ll have her contact Caroline, since Jennifer was the first to tell us that girl was certain an empty champagne bottle had been used, not a full one which might well have exploded and injured his killer as well.’

‘Which was a curious thing for her to have said, Louis. I wonder where Caroline got such an idea?’

Reaching down, he took just such a cork from Bamba Duclos’s little basket.

A shrug would be best, thought Irène.

Élizabeth knew it would have to be said, that there was no other way of avoiding things. ‘There
was
an empty bottle, inspectors. A Moët et Chandon with its cork still there. It was very late, nearly 0400 hours. Few were about, and yet. . . and yet Laurence wouldn’t leave me alone. I headed for the toilets, hoping to discourage him, but he followed. I ran. I passed a side table on which one of the waiters had left a tray and some glasses and that bottle. I pushed the door to that nearest room, then the one to the toilets, and was just able to go back to the first to slip in and gently close its door.’

‘There, what did I tell you, inspectors,’ said Irène.

‘Forgive me,
ma chère
Madame Vernon, but as God is my witness I heard that bottle break,’ said Élizabeth. ‘I knew Laurence had gone into the toilets first to look for me and then down to the wine cellar of that casino and that you had followed him. You told him what he had done to you. He laughed and told you
exactement
what he thought of you. The bottle was no longer on its tray when I left that room. Brandy, cognac, and liqueurs,
n’est-ce pas
? Lots of those, and all that was needed was a match which you had plenty of.’

‘But you didn’t come forward after the fire?’ asked Louis.

‘I couldn’t. I was afraid I wouldn’t be believed, not with that woman who would simply have accused me, as she has.’

‘You loaned him money he couldn’t repay,’ began Irène. ‘He demanded the return of that. . . that thing he had given you. Everyone knew this. They had
all
overheard you.’

‘Madame Vernon,’ said Louis, ‘you will be charged with the murder of your husband and the destruction of the casino. The courts will be lenient—they always are to such. Extenuating circumstances, the loss of the villa you loved, the penury. . . ’

‘
Garce,
’ said Irène bitterly to the woman, ‘I did what you had intended.’

Louis rang the bell.

Nora was the last to say good-bye and when she did, she pressed her good-luck penny into Louis’s hand. ‘I think you’ll both need it more than I do. When this war is over you can return it to me. Then I’ll know for sure you both survived and won’t worry anymore.’

Jennifer’s things had already been loaded into the car that would take them to the nearby train station. Colonel Kessler was on his way back to resume command of the camp. He’d have to deal with seeing that everything was settled properly, would no doubt be rather chagrined but glad of his reprieve and grateful that his old friend in Paris had sent them.

‘Keep your chin up,’ said Herr Kohler, as she hugged him dearly.

Louis shook her by the hand, the two of them lightly embracing, the girl giving him a peck on each cheek and a ‘
Merci, mes amis,
for all you’ve done.’

They would return Jennifer’s things to her flat in Paris and would inform Thérèse, her maid, of what had happened, but what would they really find when there? she wondered. A fortune’s worth of art and antiques?

It took two days for them to reach Paris and that flat, and then another four until the postcard arrived.

‘
Are well
.’ Blank, blank. ‘
Have found employment
.’ Blank, blank. ‘
In wholesale-retail trade
.’ Blank, blank.

The
marché noir
—Nora knew that’s what they meant. Paris, like everywhere else only more so, had a roaring black market. Gangsters fought to control it; so, too, did the German Army and others of the Occupier but the Résistance was also involved, as were lots and lots of others and just about every citizen.

‘
Thérèse sends her love
.’ Blank, blank. ‘
And tells us
.’ Blank, blank. ‘
It was only a dream
.’

Jen had never had anything much of value in that flat but had lived with the lie of it to hide what could well have been a big failure to her family’s business. Having been so worried that this would eventually come out, she had started stealing little things and, once started, had found she couldn’t resist the impulse.

Vittel’s internment camp, its
Internierungslager,
was one of those all-but-overlooked episodes of WWII. At the time in which
Bellringer
is set, the British and American internees were still not getting along, but they soon did, and quite well. The camp was appropriately liberated by the US Third Army on 4 August, 1944.

*
The
armée de l’armistice
of 100,000 was disbanded on 21 November, 1942, after the Wehrmacht took over the
zone libre
on the eleventh of that month.

**
The Mark VI.

***
Ground ham and chicken.

****
Later, about 300 were modified to carry up to the 9,979-kilogram (22,000 pound) “Earthquake” or “Grand Slam” bombs, the largest of the European war

*****
From the King James version of the Bible: Job 4:15–16 and Job 5:1.

All of the novels in the St-Cyr/Kohler series incorporate a few words and brief passages of French and German. Dr. Dennis Essar of Brock University very kindly assisted with the French, as did the artist Pierrette Laroche, while Professor Schutz, of Germanic and Slavic Studies at Brock, helped with the German. Should there be any errors, however, they are my own, and for these I apologize.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

copyright © 2012 by J. Robert Janes

ISBN: 978-1-4532-5222-2

Published in 2012 by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media

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