Madrigal (30 page)

‘Our friends are in disagreement,' he said of those in the courtyard. ‘Apparently there's some argument as to whether they really should put the knife into a member of the Führer's Gestapo.'

Grabbing the girl by the arm, he hustled her to a side door and from there, hurried down a spiral staircase to the floor below. When they reached Madame Simondi's room, he locked them in and let her walk on ahead, only to see her hesitate.

‘Madame …' she began, only to suddenly lose all faith in herself.

‘What have you been saying to him, you little fool!' grated the woman.

‘Nothing! He demanded it of me. I …'

‘Nothing? But if nothing, then what … is there … for you …'

To distress yourself about?

Kohler knew he'd have to fill in the blanks. Madame Simondi had been bathed and dressed. Ear-rings and a three-strand pearl and garnet cameo choker were worn with a dark crimson dress. There were silk stockings, too, and matching high heels. Very much the
Parisienne
, she was languidly stretched out on the divan, propped up by cushions. Her jet black hair had been combed and brushed and was pinned back, her lips and dark eyes were made up.

Drip glass, bottle, bowl of broken sugar, ice bucket and pitcher of water were close to hand. An hour of drinking already, he thought ruefully. Spaggiari and the others must have been told to bugger off long ago.

‘My little friends,' she said and fondled the glass when she caught him looking at her side table. ‘They keep me … going.'

A sip was taken, her lips pursed as it went down, she studying the milky-green liqueur in the glass before adding a touch more water. ‘An audition …' she said, and then after a long pause, ‘at the Palais. I understand two detectives …'

Are in my house.

‘Did César sleep with you last night,
chérie?
' she asked sharply, acidly. ‘Did you let that husband of mine stick that sausage of his into your ass, eh?'

‘Madame, one of the detectives is here now!'

Her lips tightened, her eyes became momentarily livid. ‘I've seen this
putain de bordel
at it, Inspector. I know what she lets my husband do to her. She and Genèvieve are lovers, but … César, he … He has the use of them both and often together.'

‘Madame …' tried Christiane.

Kohler moved the girl out of the way. ‘Kripo, Paris-Central,' he said firmly.

‘At last you've found your voice. Do I …'

There was another long pause. ‘Shock you, Inspector? A little, perhaps? Ah! You're from Paris. Laperouse … Do they still have …'

She tried to find the words and pursed her lips. ‘Their
cabinets particuliers?
'

Their private little dining cubicles.

Taking a long pull at her glass, she gave him a fleeting smile, half disarming, half knowing. ‘I scratched my name …'

Again she paused to find the words. ‘In one of the mirrors,' she managed. ‘The … The diamond solitaire César …'

Had just given me, said Kohler to himself.

‘Silly girl … Silly not to have kept my clothes on. I was a fool!' she shrieked and quivered with indignation until the thought left her and she had to hunt for it. ‘Now I'm a martyr to this mausoleum of his and he wants to fuck Mireille.
Mireille
! Just as the cardinal wanted her ancestor. Her ancestor.'

Her voice fell back. ‘Laperouse … Is it still on the quai des Grands-Augustins? On the …'

Corner.

‘
Numéro cinquante et un?
' she asked coyly. ‘The canard natais was …'

Pure magic.

‘The
mousse au chocolat amer
was webbed among the hairs of my little forest. César …'

‘We get the picture,' said Kohler tartly.

‘
Mon cul
… I was his
petite nymphe en rhapsodie
, Inspec … tor.'

Entreatingly she extended a hand, beckoning him to join her. ‘The Galeries Lafayette … Do you …'

Know it? Tears were now smearing the mascara and eye shadow. One of Paris's giant department stores, the Galeries was a ready-to-wear emporium for shopgirls, housewives, chorus girls and maids of all work. Shoddy goods and bare shelves these days, but he hated to tell her.

Hands shaking, she took a deep pull at her glass, then let her tongue linger lovingly on its rim.

A whining tone crept into her voice. ‘Can you still buy the cherries that are dipped in dark chocolate?' And moments later, ‘The candied ginger
aussi?
'

Unheard of now, except in certain places.

‘Ragueneau's … Is it still on the rue Saint-Honoré at
numéro
202? The tearoom …'

When he didn't answer and didn't come to sit beside her, she grated, ‘I had my own little place on the ave' Frochot, damn you! Fuck whom I want. Come and go as I please.'

It was just off place Pigalle.

‘The Cabaret Pigalle, the Narcisse and then the Alhambra.
Les nus les plus oses du monde, n
'
est-ce pas?
she rasped. ‘And thousands of men – yes, thousands – wanted me.'

The most daring, most risque nudes in the world, and oh for sure that was still true, thought Kohler wryly, what with the boys in grey-green lining up night after night! But they were getting nowhere.

‘Madame …' he began, only to hear her slackly say, ‘Les Halles,' while lewdly spreading her legs in an attempt to embarrass him.

Paris's central market was a cavernous shadow of its former self due mainly to the curfew which allowed no one, including the farmers, into the city after 11 p.m., and refused to let anyone leave before 5 a.m. Requisitioning most of the horses and lorries hadn't helped, and neither had the drastic reduction in the availability of gasoline.

‘Adrienne de Langlade, madame …'

‘That whore? César … To think that I actually wanted his …
child
! Me? Who had never had any brats before but …'

She struggled for words, muttered things about Simondi's not wearing riding coats and leaping from the train while the locomotive was still in full power, then said acidly, ‘He didn't want to have one with me. He wanted her to have it!'

‘Madame, are you saying your husband was the father of that girl's unborn child?'

‘Say what you think. Leave me to know the truth.'

Simondi was pounding on the door and crying out her name, but she didn't even realize this.

‘Which one do you like?' she asked of the eight or so wrist-watches that were wrapped around her left wrist under the sleeve she had pulled up. ‘I can never decide. Each morning I put them on. Xavier …'

The shouting continued from the corridor. ‘Xavier?' prompted Kohler and saw her smile lewdly and then softly. ‘Xavier,' she sighed. ‘He brings me little presents. He's always very sweet to me.'

‘Madame, we have to talk,' he said and took the glass from her, took away the bottle … the bottle … ‘
Those are mine
!' she shrieked and lunged for them. ‘You can't take them away. You can't!'

Blows rained on the door. ‘
Marceline
!' cried Simondi.

With bated breath she waited for Kohler to hand her the glass and when he didn't, tried again to snatch it from him. ‘Please!' she begged. ‘You don't understand what it's like for me without it. Christiane, tell him!'

‘The Palais,' he said, ignoring the shouting.

‘An audition … Xavier, he …
Please
!' she shrieked, and when refused, wept and tore her dress open. ‘You want me, don't you?' she wheedled, begging him to have sex with her. ‘Xavier, he … he said he would help me. He always does.'

When allowed to drink, she drained the glass and for a moment her dark eyes misted. Lost, she looked down at her withered breasts and slowly, deliberately, brushed droplets from them and wondered what was happening to her. ‘I tried …'

He waited. Simondi cried out her name. ‘I tried to be nice to Mireille. I really did,' she wept, ‘but César, he was determined to have her and to … to get rid of me.'

‘You killed her, didn't you?' he sadly breathed and his voice, his words echoed in her head and the pain of them was excruciating.

The pounding had stopped. Her eyes were still open.

‘Inspector, she's right out of it now,' said Christiane, buttoning the woman's dress. ‘She'll sit like this for hours, sipping a little from time to time, but you'll get nothing further from her today.'

‘And you?' asked Kohler. ‘What about you?' The girl had sounded relieved.

‘I wasn't there. I was at the Villa Marenzio with the others as we all have told you and your partner.'

‘
Tesoro, da quando sei qui?
' asked Simondi earnestly. Sweetie, how long have you been here?

‘Since early last night, César. You …' hazarded Christiane.

He touched her arm in comfort. ‘
Sì, sì
, I remember now. I asked you and Genèvieve and Marius to spend a little time with Marceline. She's all right, isn't she?'

They were gathered in the corridor outside the bedroom.

‘She's fine, César. Fine,' said the
Alto
, her dark eyes full of concern for her singing master.

Lightly he kissed her on the cheek and held her a moment. ‘
Bene
. Try not to dwell on things. Keep the mind and voice clear, eh? We've the concert on the thirtieth and then the tour. Genèvieve and you had best spend an hour or two in practice. Verdolet, I think, and Constanzo Festa. I
spettores
, this is terrible. Ah
Dio mio
, to think that you, Herr Kohler, thought my gardener and others were to assassinate you.
Merda
! How could such a thing have been possible?'

‘Maître, my partner and I will find our own way out through your Grand Tinel,' said St-Cyr, ignoring the question. ‘There's a portrait of the first Mireille I would very much like to examine more closely.'

‘That painting can tell you nothing, Inspector. Nothing!'

‘Perhaps, but then … ah
mais alors
, perhaps not.'

‘
Bastardi
, I'm warning you. Get out of my house this instant!'

‘Warn if you like, but unless you wish to prove your innocence after a lengthy incarceration while awaiting trial, I suggest you leave us to do as I wish.'

‘I won't forget this.'

‘That is of no concern.'

They were in the car now and Hermann was rapidly thumbing cartridges into a spare clip for his Walther P38 while attempting to break open a packet for the old Lebel six shooter this Sûreté would be allowed and nothing else.

‘
Verdammt
, Louis, did you have to set Simondi off like that and then hang around like an art student in the Louvre? That girl was totally convinced
cagoulards
would knife me. De Passe must have threatened her with them if she didn't cooperate and distract me.'

‘The bishop shows every indication of belonging to the
Comité secret d'action révolutionnaire.
'

‘De Passe is head of the
Cagoule, mon enfant. That's
why he came running so hard to the villa to call out his boys, but … ah
Gott im Himtnel
, Boemelburg, Louis. The Chief must have sent us to Avignon hoping those bastards would take care of us once and for all!'

‘Calm down. You've been popping too much Benzedrine.'

‘I haven't had the time, damn it!
Nom de Jésus-Christ
! Idiot, will you listen to me.'

Kohler told him of the
partouse
on the Îie de la Barthelasse last October. Louis found a cigarette and, breaking it in half, lit up and passed him his half. As was their custom at such moments, they began to go quickly through things.

‘Our singing master first tries to implicate his wife in the de Sinéty murder, Hermann, as does Albert Renaud – oh
bien sûr
, there's plenty of reason. But when there might be doubt in our believing this, Simondi then confides that Genèvieve Ravier was to have been dismissed.'

‘Desperate, was he?'

‘The implication being that Christiane Bissert and Genèvieve would have lost everything had Adrienne de Langlade and Mireille replaced the
Primo Soprano
and Xavier.'

‘And there's the bishop planting photos of Adrienne for me to find, so as to throw suspicion on to the boy and his mentor, Brother Matthieu.'

‘The
fétichiste de cheveux
our shepherd boy felt he might well need to blackmail.'

‘Xaviers swift like a fox, Louis. That little
confident
of Madame Simondi's realized he'd be among the fingered and didn't tell the others he had the reward money for turning Dédou in.'

‘Ah yes, but a murder, Hermann, that is linked to another which, in turn, is linked to a death six hundred years ago. The brocade, it keeps haunting me.'

‘What brocade?'

‘The painting Simondi didn't want us to look at.'

‘The Papal Court and a bunch of randy old cardinals who had already stripped a girl naked and nearly drowned her!'

‘The front of our Mireille de Sinéty's cote-hardie, Hermann, and that of the first Mireille. Did those two look-alikes who were so good with the needle hide something there as well as on their belts? Another rebus?'

A last drag was taken and the butt carelessly extinguished underfoot. ‘You tell me. You're the one who had to stall when we should have got the hell out of there and fast!'

Kohler thrust the Lebel at him. ‘Use it. Don't hesitate. That's an order.'

Hermann always said such things. ‘If one looks closely at that painting, a pattern begins to emerge in slight relief among the gold brocade, but looking closely isn't enough. One really has to think as they did in the Renaissance. They loved the play of light and shadows. Such things had tremendous meaning for them. Stand to the side of that painting as I did, and as light from the end of Simondi's Grand Tinel passes obliquely across the tightly laced bosom, it reinforces that which the artist depicted and one sees that shadows make daggers across her heart. The broad ribbing of the bars of an
accabussade
becomes clearer, Hermann, though still in soft relief and incomplete of form.'