Gently French (9 page)

‘But the Broads are lousy with properties like that. Three parts of the bungalows are owned by foreigners.’

‘This one will have Peter Robinson living in it. And a blue Viva in the garage.’

‘You reckon so?’

‘Look at the facts. He booked in at the Three Tuns for an indefinite stay. Then he made contact with Deslauriers, that’s been established, and checked out of the Three Tuns, but remained in the district. So where else?’

‘You think she hid him there?’

‘Can you suggest a better prospect? If the hideaway was good enough for Quarles, then it would surely be good enough for Peter Robinson.’

‘So then maybe it’ll take a bit of finding.’

‘We have one fix. It’s handy for Sallowes. That suggests it’s on the south side of the river, because Haughton’s the only crossing for miles.’

‘That still leaves it open. It could be on the South River.’

‘Either way, we have to find it. I want County to treat this as a matter of urgency. Picking up Robinson is top priority.’

‘You want immediate action.’

‘I want that.’

I heard Hanson sigh. ‘Will do.’

Then I rang London, where after a ten-minute delay they connected me with Dainty. Similarities in background noise suggested he had been occupied in the same way as Hanson. I told him about Quarles’ villa, about Quarles’ talk of retiring.

‘Who do we know who would take that to heart?’

Dainty hedged. ‘I could name you a dozen. Quarles has master-minded for several of the gangs as well as running his own mob. He could put away some top villains and none of them would stop at having him done.’

‘But you can narrow that down.’

‘Do you think I haven’t been trying? I’ve had whispers about O’Leary and Whitey Ferrier. I have men out now trying to get the dope on them. We haven’t been sitting on our hands all day.’

‘Have you had another session with Quarles’ boys?’

‘Don’t make me laugh. They’ve clammed solid.’

‘You could let it out that Fring was playing them double, was hooked in with other interests.’

‘It’s been tried. They were there. They’re not going to believe that Fring planned his skarper.’

‘A few days in the cells would give them time to wonder.’

‘Have it your way. But they haven’t talked yet.’

I shrugged to myself. ‘Let’s get to Fring, then. How sure was the identification today?’

Dainty hesitated. ‘Are you questioning that?’

‘I’m thinking you won’t be the only ones looking for him. The story has been blown for two days. A man on the loose with thirty-five grand. Fring might have come cruising by his house today, but so might some other interested parties.’

‘Sergeant Dymock thought it was Fring.’

‘Has Dyrnock met him?’

‘He’s studied photographs.’

‘Then there’s room for error. Fring may be still with us, or he may be catching a tan on a private beach.’

I heard Dainty suck breath. ‘Quarles’ villa?’

‘It’s only a short flight from Heathrow. And today’s was your only sighting of Fring. Unless you’re positive, I’d say he’s skipped.’

‘You could be right. We’ve had no whispers.’

‘Which could also mean he’s floating down the Thames.’

‘I like the first idea best. You’d better give me particulars of the villa.’

I dictated them, against background music and a voice that sounded like Harry Corbett’s.

‘Fine,’ Dainty said. ‘I’ll ring Interpol. How are things shaping at your end?’

‘Packed with psychological interest.’

He gave a dirty laugh. ‘I’ve heard about her. When do you get to the ooh la la?’

I hung up: but sat a little longer, very silent, on the padded desk-chair. From across the hall was coming the murmur of the bar, but that wasn’t the only sound I had been hearing. Now I rose quietly and moved to the door. Nothing to see through the glass panels. I whipped open the door and stepped out. Bavents was pressed against the wall alongside.

‘Were you able to hear, then?’

He started away from me, but I was blocking his retreat down the hall. He stood frightened-eyed, breathing quickly, looking oddly Victorian in his waiter’s tails.

‘I – I wasn’t listening!’

‘Pull the other one.’

‘I was w-waiting to use the phone.’

‘What’s wrong with the call-box?’

‘I don’t have any change!’

‘But you do get free use of the office phone?’

Bavents was trembling. Just then, however, some people came out of the bar behind him. I had to make way for them, way for Bavents. He grabbed the opportunity and went.

Not that it mattered. As Joe Louis once said, they can run but they can’t hide.

B
UT THIS INCIDENT
settled one thing: my session with Mimi could not now wait till morning. I didn’t know whether or not she had set Bavents to spy on me, but there was a strong possibility that she would get his report. I went into the bar. Drinkers were grouped round the piano, at which someone sat playing
La Mer
. I pushed up till I could see the pianist: it was Mimi, of course: her Parisian thing. She was playing
La Mer
with a languorous unction and no mean skill in the fingering, evoking, with poised, resonant octaves, an American’s idea of the mood of the boulevards. It was musical ham, but being played with a conviction that stripped the tinsel from the cliché. And the group of drinkers hummed it with her, swaying slowly to the wave-like rhythm.

I eased my way to the piano and found a corner on which to lean my elbow. Mimi’s eyes connected with mine: she hooded them provocatively and leaned towards me. She began singing in French. Her hoarse contralto was thrillingly suited to the nostalgic melody. It came over powerfully, and was sensuously supported by the humming of the group. The rest of the bar was still and listening. Even the bar-tender had interrupted his serving. He stood with a glass in his hand, the other hand on a pump-handle, and his eyes intent upon the singer. Mimi had created something. With a pub-piano, she had built an experience with an echo.

The song ended; but ignoring applause, she blended the signature notes into
Clopin Clopant
. The transition was faultless, and instead of singing this one she hummed it with a sort of affectionate abandon. Everyone joined her except the bar-tender and me. Nobody now was sitting down the room. They were clustering together with linked arms, swaying and crooning around Mimi. Occasionally she would throw in a few vibrant words, as though the music were recalling to her some blissful memory; and all the time her eyes remained linked to mine, making me an audience of one.

Clopin Clopant
finished in a volley of clapping and raucous pleas for more, but this time Mimi rose from the piano, laughing, and picked up a glass that was standing on it.

‘That is all, my friends. I have business.’

She pointedly raised the glass to me. I said nothing; she tossed off the drink; it was she who led me through the disappointed customers.

We went out into the hall and she laid her hand on my arm.

‘So. Shall we go to your room, or mine?’

I shook my head. ‘This isn’t social.’

‘Not social?’

‘No. I have some questions to ask you.’

She gestured carelessly. ‘What else? But mustn’t we be comfortable while you’re asking them?’

‘Not so comfortable as you’re suggesting.’

‘But, my friend, that’s a matter of taste. If you don’t want to make love to me, foof, foof. But at least, let us discuss it sitting on a bed.’

‘We’ll discuss it in the office.’

‘I don’t like the office. To begin with, there is not even a couch. Then there are windows in the door and at the counter. We may as well go back into the bar.’

‘At the moment the office happens to be my office.’

‘Then I do not admire your taste.’

‘I am filled with regret.’

‘Huh-huh. How does one fill you with something else?’

I opened the office door and she went in distastefully. But then she noticed the curtains for the glass panels.

‘Aha. This is not so bad. All it needs now is a soft mattress.’

‘Kindly wait here while I fetch my Inspector.’

‘But, my friend, for what do we need him?’

‘Let us just say to preserve the proprieties.’

She put out her tongue and gave me a V-sign.

I collected Dutt. When we returned, Mimi had drawn the office curtains. She was sitting on a chair turned back-to-front so that her skirt was pushed up to her crotch. She had her arms folded on the back of the chair and was staring maenad-eyed at space. She remained so while we took our seats and while I was leafing through her statement.

‘Madame Deslauriers?’

‘Uhuh?’

‘It would be nice to have your attention.’

She hoisted her shoulders. ‘I didn’t get yours. Why do you expect me to give you mine?’

‘Doesn’t the death of your friend matter to you?’

‘Can you bring him back to life?’

‘I can perhaps discover who killed him. Or don’t you really want me to do that?’

She swivelled the chair heavily. ‘Monsieur, what good will it do? If this little Rampant killed Freddy, no doubt he is sorry enough now.’

‘You don’t think he should be punished?’

‘He is punished already. He was thinking that Freddy would make him rich. But – pfft! – the job went sour. There was no money for little Rampant.’

‘So he was justified in killing Freddy?’

‘I do not know about justifications. But he is punished twice, because if there is no Freddy there are no more jobs to do for Freddy. Also, it is in part Freddy’s fault. He should not have taken such risks in dealing with Rampant. He should not have made him blow his top, huh? I think that Freddy was a lot to blame.’

‘Did Freddy have a temper?’

‘Who has not? And it was all the worse because he controlled it. A lawyer, you see. He did it with words. Ah, I can well understand what happened.’

‘You are saying he provoked Rampant.’

‘But yes. He was very angry after Rampant rang him. He lay on his bed up there, brooding, planning all he is going to say to him. At the time I am thinking this is perhaps not wise, better let a hard boy handle it for him. But I could not advise Freddy. My wisdom was not to interfere.’

‘And this was his mood when he set out.’

She nodded. ‘And the rest I understand so well. He skinned this little man, this Rampant; his words were like claws into his brain. He was going to crush him, ha, ha. This Rampant will never cross him again. But they are all alone there. Nobody about. And little Rampant has a knife.’

‘You could foresee that.’

‘Trouble I saw. I couldn’t know it would be so bad.’

‘You feared violence.’

‘Yes, violence. Freddy’s mood is very black.’

‘And so he went out on this dangerous mission. He went out, and he didn’t come back.’

‘Exactly so.’

‘Yet you raised no alarm. Why was that, Madame Deslauriers?’

She was still for perhaps two seconds, gazing emptily into nothing. Then she pulled back on the chair in cowboy style and smiled up into my face.

‘A trap, huh, pardner?’

‘I would like an answer to my question.’

‘I think it is a pity you couldn’t have questioned Freddy. My God! That would have been a treat. Do you know, in a way you are reminding me of him?’

‘You may have time to think, if you wish.’

‘He would have said that. He would have been thinking of ways to put me down, make me say what he wanted. Isn’t that bizarre?’

I shook my head.

‘And you a policeman, he a thief. Uhuh, what is the difference? It is just two teams who play one game.’

‘No, Madame Deslauriers.’

‘You do not like my paradox?’

‘I am afraid this won’t do. Either you have your cake or eat it. If you don’t decide, I shall.’

‘Cake? What cake is that?’

‘The cake is your ignorance of the risk that Freddy was taking. That could explain why you raised no alarm. But it excludes you from persuading me that Rampant was the killer.’

She gurgled throatily. ‘You think I try to do that?’

‘I think you have been trying for the past ten minutes.’

‘But it is logical, my friend. And you must admit, convenient. It is not insulting the credibilities.’

‘Then why no alarm?’

‘Oh foof. Perhaps I am giving it too much drama. I was uneasy, yes, but not too worried. This sort of thing has happened before. Freddy goes away for one, two days. If anyone asks me, I have an excuse. He has gone to view property in Wales, in Cornwall. Freddy was fond of little deals in property.’

‘He owned properties?’

‘Oh yes, one or two.’

‘In Wales, in Cornwall?’

She pulled a glum face. ‘Haven’t I been telling you that Freddy was secretive? I do not know where his little pieces are.’

‘Buying property is legal. Wouldn’t he have taken you to visit them?’

‘No. His business was not my affair.’

‘He just bought them and forgot them?’

‘Oh, Freddy forgot nothing. Especially when not to open his mouth.’

‘You begin to make me think it’s catching,’ I said. ‘Freddy had property in Scotland. Also a nice villa at Cap Ferrat.’

‘The villa, oh yes, the villa. I was thinking you meant in this country.’

‘Also in this country. We know of another property.’ She drooped her mouth and humped her shoulders.

‘Would you like to know where?’

‘Should it matter to me?’

‘At present it has an occupant.’

‘Ah. Freddy let it.’

‘I didn’t say that. I doubt if this occupant pays any rent.’

She looked askew for a moment. Then she sighed sadly. ‘My friend, I can guess what you are trying to tell me.’

‘I was sure you could.’

‘But I am quite resigned. I have long felt there was another woman.’

‘Another woman!’

‘But yes. It is not a thing a man can hide. Not even Freddy. I had intimations, you know? The way he was to me in bed.’

‘I am not referring to another woman!’

‘You try to spare me. You are so kind. But, my friend, it doesn’t matter now. All jealousy was over when Freddy died.’

For a space I was silent. I couldn’t help it; I had to admire that splendid foil. With style of such an order it was no wonder that Mimi had triumphed over the machinations of her mother-in-law. Nor did she rub it in; she sat mournfully glum, as though bravely accepting her sad thoughts. Not a flicker or gleam in her downcast eye. Nothing to give scepticism a chance.