C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series) (20 page)

“Hey, I’m the victim here.”

“So you say. Those dead men we found might argue that point.”

One of the other policemen approached the inspector and whispered in his ear.

“It seems we have hit the jackpot. Bruno Laurent is among the dead. Along with seven other of his nastiest employees. I thought you didn’t carry a weapon. How did you manage that?”

“I didn’t.”

“But you don’t deny going after Bruno. You did exactly what I told you not to.”

“Yes, I did go after Bruno at his club for killing Corinne Reneau. The bastard. However, things didn’t go so well. I woke up tied to a chair in this warehouse.”

“Then you admit you wanted to kill him?”

“Of course I did, but I didn’t kill him.”

“Who did?”

“That’s a good question. I couldn’t say.”

“Yet, you were here.”

“Sure, but there was a lot of smoke. Oh yeah, and Bruno was using me for a punching bag. Over there somewhere.” Raja pointed to the rows of shelving. “He would have killed me, I’m sure. I must have passed out. When I came to, they were all dead and I was free.”

“Were you dreaming?”

“As a matter of fact, I was. What does that have to do with anything?”

“You must have been dreaming. How else can you explain how the magic fairies sneaked into the warehouse, killed everyone, untied you and flew away? Come on, Monsieur Williams, why don’t you tell me the truth?”

“I’m sticking with the magic fairies.”

Inspector Gilliard was angry. “You know a lot more than you are saying. I could lock you up for at least a month just for being in this warehouse.”

“Do what you need to do. I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t kill anyone. You said it yourself. I don’t carry a gun. Where is the gun I used?”

The inspector was furious. He pulled out his pocket knife and cut Raja loose. “I promise you, we will search this entire area for a weapon. And perhaps you won’t mind if we do a gunpowder residue test to be sure you haven’t fired a weapon.” He motioned for one of the uniformed officers.

“Test away,” said Raja. The officer took Raja by the arm.

“Take him directly to the station. Don’t let him out of your sight until we get results on the gunpowder test. If it’s positive, book him for murder.” The officer dragged Raja toward the door.

“One more thing,” said the inspector. “Provided you are telling the truth, I recommend that you leave Paris as soon as possible. I am certain it would be the healthy thing for you to do.”

Raja didn’t answer.

The officer took Raja back to the station where the gunshot residue test came up negative. After reconfirming with Inspector Gilliard, the officer drove Raja to the hospital emergency room and arranged for him to get patched up.

While Raja waited for the nurse, he found a pay phone and called Vinny. Before he could say anything, Vinny jumped down his throat.

“Where the hell have you been? Stay in communication, keep the lines tight, isn’t that what you always say, Raj? Well?”

“Vinny, I’m at the hospital.”

“Say what?” Her tone changed immediately.

“I’m okay. Bruno is dead.”

“O-M-G, you killed him?”

“No, although I would have, given the chance. However, I am quite sure he was going to kill me. A timely visit from Claus took care of Bruno.”

“Is Claus there now?”

“Need you ask?”

“True dat. How bad are you hurt?”

“Minor cuts and bruises. But, I could use a ride. My Porsche is probably still parked behind the club. You know where I keep the extra key.”

“Which hospital?”

“It’s the Hôpital Lariboisière, on Rue Ambroise Paré.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Make that ten.”

“No hurry, Vinny. Really, I am okay. Vinny?” She had already ended the call.

True to her word, Vinny showed up at the hospital in ten minutes. Raja had gotten three stitches in two different places and two butterflies on his eyebrow. He looked like someone’s favorite old Raggedy Ann doll that was well past its expiration date and had been lovingly stitched together. The nurse was giving him antibiotics when Vinny walked in.

“Jesus, Raj. You look like someone tied you to the back of their bumper and drove away.”

“Don’t make me laugh, Vinny. I’ll pop a stitch.”

“Do you want painkillers?” asked the nurse.

“No thanks. I’ve got scotch at home to take care of the pain.”

“Try to rest a few days, Monsieur Williams,” said the nurse. “Besides lacerations and bruises, you suffered a mild concussion. Are you going to drive him?” she asked Vinny.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. He may have some blurred vision. Keep an eye on him for the next twenty-four hours.”  

Vinny put her arm around Raja to help him walk out of the emergency room.

“I’m not crippled you know.”

“Shut it.”

When they reached the car, Raja walked straight to the driver's door.

“No way, Jose,” said Vinny.

“Napoleon needs me.”

“Napoleon can wait. You heard the nurse. You need to rest.”

Raja didn’t protest. He wasn’t feeling as strong as he put on. The drive to the flat was a quiet one. Although Vinny had several lectures she was prepared to reel off, she was just happy Raja was okay and still mostly in one piece.

Back at the flat Raja sat on the couch sipping a drink. Vinny worked on her computer.

Half an hour later Vinny found a report circulating on the police lines. It was the latest terrorist watch bulletin that had the name Raja Williams on it.

“O-M-G,” said Vinny, upon finding the report on Raja. “W-T-F.” Vinny fully expected others to act decently and sanely, despite encountering repeated evidence to the contrary in the world around her. Her refusal to compromise with her innate faith in people was one of the characteristics that made her such an asset to Raja. Otherwise, a life investigating crime could get rather grim. “I can not believe it,” said Vinny. “You are still on the terrorist watch list. Some crap about flying into Afghanistan from western Pakistan, and running weapons into Africa. All of it years ago. BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. I thought you said that Captain Milan took care of that.”

It is a well known fact that the police often focus their investigations on the victims of a crime rather than pursuing the perpetrators. Sometimes they incorrectly target someone who was a witness or simply an innocent bystander. The biggest errors are made when the police target someone who is trying to help solve a crime, such as a private investigator or a reporter. It happens more than you might think. There are more than a few people in prison for a long time due solely to their proximity to a criminal investigation. Raja called it the crime of being there.

Because Captain Milan of the National Gendarmerie had told him he would still be on the watch list, Raja was not surprised when Vinny discovered the report circulating along the police channels naming Raja as a suspected terrorist on the to-be-watched list. Knowing how Vinny would react, he had deliberately withheld the details of his encounter at the Gendarmerie.

Raja knew the PR ploy well. Tell a lie, wrap it in a half-truth to make it easier to swallow, and send it out on enough channels so that each one starts to confirm the story to one another. Once again, the crime was being there. The truth was, Raja had flown in and out of Afghanistan, but only to rescue a Hindi family that was trapped and hunted by the Taliban. And his pilot Mickey had flown weapons into Africa, but only enough to get the badly needed medicine and food past the rebels and into civilian hands. And even that was all before Mickey started working for Raja. Thankfully, Captain Milan had been thorough and intelligent enough to see through the outpoints.

“Is it a red or yellow alert?” asked Raja.

“Yellow.” That meant to be watched only.

“Don’t sweat it, Vinny. I’ve gotten used to it. As long as it stays yellow there won’t be any problem.”

“Well, I don’t like it.” When it came to Raja, Vinny was a protective mother hen.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we just solve this case and then we can blow this French popcorn stand.” Vinny’s penchant for slang was rubbing off on Raja.

“Bam shizzaam,” she said, smiling at his attempt.

“Have you found anything more on Mrs. Browning or the crooked cops?”

“No, but there is a report on one of your drug dealer pals. Jules Masson was found beaten to death. No leads on who did it.”

“I’m not surprised. That guy was a disaster waiting to happen. Sounds like more of Bruno’s handiwork. Nobody is going to miss that bastard.”

“True dat, boss,” said Vinny, thinking of the girls at the cabaret.

“I think I’m gonna go lie down. You be okay out here?”

“No prob. Get some rest.”

Raja did just that, and thankfully he did not dream.

Chapter Thirty: Down the Garden Path

The next day Raja was sore but his head was a lot clearer. Vinny wasn’t so sure, but Raja convinced her he was ready to go back to work.

“I’m sure I could rest for a week, but we still haven’t found Mrs. Browning. You weren’t there to hear her husband. He is one lost puppy.”

“Okay, but no more gunfights for a while.”

“I was thinking about doing some nice quiet surveillance.”

“On who?”

“Inspector Gilliard.”

“You think he might be the Scorpion?” asked Vinny.

“I don’t know. But I’m convinced he’s in the thick of it. Bruno was too much of a loose cannon to be running a major crime operation in the shadows for all those years. Have you found out any more about Gilliard?”

“I still haven’t connected him to the woman on the bank account.”

“See, he is hiding something. And who knows how many other accounts he has. I still haven’t heard from Remy on the ship we are watching, so I thought maybe I’d put eyes on Gilliard for a while. Some nice relaxing surveillance couldn’t hurt.”

“Raj, I’m not sure you can do nice or relaxing. Remember, you had a concussion. No rough stuff. You let me know if you find out anything. Promise.”

“I promise. You should get back to the club. All hell must be breaking loose over there with Bruno out of the way.”

After Vinny dropped herself off near the club, Raja climbed behind the wheel of the Porsche and headed for open road. He needed to clear his head, and driving always worked. Raja cruised
the Champs-Elysées west past the Arc de Triomphe eventually making his way onto the
Boulevard Périphérique
, the Paris beltway. There he opened the throttle, weaving through the traffic at high speed as he circled north around Paris. He left the beltway heading south, stopping when he reac
hed the
Basilique du Sacré-Coeur
, a fabulous Catholic Church and basilica that was constructed on the highest point in Paris. He parked and climbed the many steps. It was one of Raja’s favorite places in Paris, with its panoramic view of the city. He drank in the sights like cool
lemonade. It was on this very spot more than a century earlier that Archbishop Guibert
had had his vision as clouds dispersed over the panorama and said, “It is here, it is here where the martyrs are.” That had inspired the construction of the church on the top of Montmartre.
 

Raja thought about where the case had taken him so far. He wondered where Mrs. Browning was at this very moment, and whether she was destined to be a martyr herself. And, if so, to what cause. That he would find her, he had no doubt. Whether she would be alive was a different story. The drive and the view renewed his determination to make just that happen.

As the day wore on, Raja drove to the 36 to take up a spot to watch and wait for Inspector Gilliard. Vinny had already identified Gilliard’s vehicle and plate number. Raja parked where he could see the policemen leaving for the day. In the late afternoon he spotted Gilliard’s Renault pull out of the parking garage and head north across the river. Raja stayed as far behind as he could. Gilliard took a turn and drove past the Louvre complex. Raja sped up to close the distance as Gilliard rounded a circle near the Jardin des Tuileries, the huge palace garden created when the Louvre served as the palace for the French king. When Raja reached the other side of the circle, Gilliard was already getting out of his car, having parked in a small spot designated for official use only. Raja had no choice but to drive past, parking at the next place he could. He ran back to the circle in time to see Gilliard disappear into the garden grounds behind a row of hedges. The exertion had taken its toll on Raja, blurring his vision, and starting a dull ache in his temples. Nonetheless, he followed Gilliard, who turned left crossing the grounds in the open. Raja hung back moving along a row of sculpted trees, a common sight in Paris. Gilliard was moving toward the south side of the grounds, near the Seine river. He turned right onto the last walkway along the row of tall hedges that edged the grounds. The area was open and Raja was forced to cross to the hedge and then move slowly losing sight of Gilliard as he rounded a curve where the path circled a large concrete pedestal topped with a statue of a sphinx. Resisting the urge to race ahead, Raja maintained his pace. When Raja reached the statue, he peered around it and saw a park bench ahead of Gilliard where a man sat alone. With his vision still blurry Raja could not identify the man. Gilliard sat down next to him. It was the perfect spot for a clandestine meeting. The open area made it impossible to get close enough to monitor the conversation without being seen. Raja ducked behind the statue and called Vinny.

“Hey, Raj. How’s your relaxation going?”

“Very nicely. I’m taking a stroll in the Tuileries Garden. It’s a beautiful place.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No. I’m following Inspector Gilliard. He is meeting with someone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I can’t get close enough to see. That’s why I’m calling. Any chance you have access to surveillance cameras?”

“Let me check.” Vinny diddled on her computer while Raja checked to make sure the men were still there. “No go. Nothing other than the entrance on the Louvre side.”