Madrigal (33 page)

‘It's all going to end for us!' she cried. ‘St-Cyr and Kohler will find out you were going to be dismissed, Genèvieve, and that César felt we had grown too close.'

Genèvieve didn't hold her. Genèvieve didn't come closer but remained apart and standing just inside the bathroom door.

‘You know it's bad luck for a Pisces to possess a stone like this,' said Christiane bitterly. ‘Then you tell me why Mireille had to give it to you last Monday after practice? Last Monday, Genèvieve!'

The face, the cameo of the fourteenth-century pin she had been cleaning, looked up at her. Slowly at first, and then more and more as must have happened with Adrienne's body, the flood-waters from the tap began to drag it free and towards the drain. A beautifully carved portrait of a young girl of substance, that other Mireille, the stone no longer a dirty greyish green but a lovely delicate oval of soft yellowish green, the name of the stone combining two words from the Greek. ‘
Krusos
,' she wept and tried to stop herself. ‘Golden, Genèvieve, that's what it means, and
prasos
, their word for the leek. The golden leek – chrysoprase, damn you!'

‘Stop it. Stop it now!'

‘I can't! I mustn't. I have to say things to you.'

‘Then give that thing to me and I'll take care of it!'

‘No you won't! It's mine now. With me it's safe.'

A Gemini …

Christiane snatched it up and turned swiftly to face her. ‘Who really killed Mireille?'

Her slightly parted lips began to tremble as she waited for an answer. She was so tense and afraid, thought Genèvieve. No longer was there any light in her eyes, only suspicion. ‘I … I don't know. I swear it,
chérie.
'

‘I went to bed early that night. You know I did.'

Her voice had climbed. She had to say something. ‘There are no secrets between us, Christiane.'

‘There can never be any, Genèvieve.'

The softness of a smile would be best. ‘I wasn't long but you had already fallen asleep when I went in to see you.'

‘Liar! You went to the Palais. You were there, Genèvieve. Madame came here to get the sickle from the props' room and you … you followed her. César wanted Mireille for himself. You know he did but Madame is very jealous. She tolerates you and me only because she knows about us and to her it doesn't matter if César takes either or both of us whenever he feels like it and you … Sometimes I think you enjoy it!'

The price they had had to pay, and an honest assessment given by one who could well have gone to the Palais herself. ‘But Mireille was different – is this what you're saying?' said Genèvieve cautiously.

‘You know she was perfect for that
livrée
of his. César would have given her time but would have wanted her as his wife. Nothing less would have satisfied that ego of his. She and Adrienne were to have replaced you and Xavier. I was to stay on.'

‘And now … now you think I killed her,' said Genèvieve.

‘You had to!'

‘But so did Xavier.'

Christiane ducked her eyes away. ‘And … and so did Madame,' she said, taking a quick breath. ‘I … I admit this freely.' Genèvieve still hadn't come to her. Genèvieve wasn't going to and yet … and yet an earnestness had softened the hardness as her lips began to form words – would they be of kindness?

‘Then ask yourself,
ma petite
, how could César allow Mireille to destroy everything he and the bishop and the others had put together? César wanted Madame to kill Mireille – he planned it that way. It was that or do it himself. Regrettably he had no other choice. She'd get the guillotine because de Passe and the magistrate would make certain of it. One has to protect one's business associates and fellow
penitents noirs, n
'
est-ce past
Why else would César have starved her of absinthe for five days, Christiane? You know the state Madame was in by Monday.'

Answers had to be found and one always had to weaken when challenged by Genèvieve. ‘Xavier is her
confident
. He got her the sickle. He went with her and … and let Nino into the Palais to find Mireille when … when César and the others had left. Mireille was in tears after the audition and felt she had lost everything. She had stupidly confronted them with the truth about Adrienne but Dedou hadn't come to back her up. She was all alone and … and soon left the Grand Tinel.'

And it was very dark in the
Chambre du cerf
, wasn't it? asked Genèvieve silently. ‘Then Xavier could have killed Mireille for Madame.'

‘Yes. Yes, that is so.'

‘Then, there, now you know everything. Feel better?' she asked, tenderly enfolding her. ‘Cry. Let it all come out,
petite
. I know you didn't mean to say that about me. I know you still love me.'

A hesitant breath was taken. Warm, wet lips were pressed to a cheek as arms were wrapped more tightly about her. Tears flooded.

‘When … when you came into my room I pretended to be asleep. I … I went to your room, Genèvieve, but couldn't find you. I looked everywhere and … and then I left here and went after you. I had to stop it from happening. I couldn't have you dismissed from the singers and found guilty of Mireille's murder. I couldn't have us parted because of her.'

‘You fool. You little fool.'

A few parishioners were scattered about the Cathédrale de Notre-Dame-des-Doms. But the chancel was unattended. No confessions were being heard, the Blessed Sacrament was not being made available.

Alain de Passe cursed the absence and hurried to the left, past the carved white marble throne of a twelfth-century bishop and on into the sacristy, but still there wasn't a sign of any of them. ‘
Merde
,' he breathed.

They were in the adjacent chapel. ‘César … Ah
mon Dieu
, at last I've found you.'

‘
Un momento, amico mio
. Let us wait until Henri-Baptiste is finished.'

Prostrate in the coarse black cassock of a simple priest, and with his face pressed painfully to the floor and arms outstretched with hands clasped, Bishop Rivaille prayed before the tomb of Pope John XXII.

The reclining stone figure of the pope had been destroyed during the Revolution and later replaced by that of a bishop. Six of the elegant statues which had once adorned the tomb had long ago been removed to decorate the Église de Saint-Pierre which was just to the south-east of the Palais.

‘He's begging His Eminence to intercede with the Holy Father on his and our behalf,' confided Simondi wryly.

And so much for stringing up a pregnant naked girl in his room at the mill and thrashing the hell out of himself while standing before her. ‘He worshipped that girl even more than he did Mireille de Sinéty. A virgin, he thought,' clucked de Passe and sadly shook his head as if to say, How naive can the clergy get? ‘We have to talk, César. St-Cyr didn't believe for a moment that Brother Matthieu had done it, nor that he had killed the
petite lingère
. To him Henri-Baptiste must have violated Adrienne de Langlade while in a drunken rage.'

‘And everything we see here suggests that he did,' muttered Simondi sadly. ‘The remorse for breaking his vows, the tears of anguish at the threatened loss of the dream, not to mention that of everything else.'

Across the place de Horloge, the swastika flying from the Kommandantur and Hotel de ville seemed larger than most. In the fast-greying light, the colours were darker, the design sharper, more ominous.

And yet here am I, one of the Occupier, seeking sanctuary; thought Kohler, wishing Louis was with him. But Louis wasn't. Louis hadn't been in the Cafe of the Panic-stricken White Mule. He hadn't been at the
prefecture
, he had simply vanished – had he vanished? The river?
Mein Gott
, the river!

Von Mahler was busy at his desk and didn't appreciate the sudden intrusion. Nino barked. Kohler shouted, ‘She's with me. She's brought along evidence to match the other shoe she found and good for her, eh, Nino?'

Taking the frayed tennis shoe from her, he patted the dog warmly, then thumped the shoe on the desk. Sand flew up. ‘Herr Oberst, my partner's missing.'

‘He's at the morgue.'

‘And dead! The morgue. I knew it.'

Kohler looked ill. For perhaps ten seconds the detective couldn't seem to move as the colour drained from the scarred and frost-burnished cheeks. Then he yanked at a chair and sat down heavily.

‘I need a drink, damn it, and a cigarette!'

Cognac in hand, and doors closed, he stared in silence at his glass before muttering, ‘The morgue … I always knew it had to end.
Salut
, Jean-Louis.
Salut, mon vieux
. Here's to the best damned partner there ever was.'

Tears fell and he didn't care if he was seen with them. ‘You son of a bitch!' he said scathingly. ‘You could have stopped this whole thing from happening but oh no, you had to cosy up to those bastards. You had to be seen to get along with them and to tolerate their schemes!'

‘Kohler, pull yourself together.'

The closely trimmed, crinkly dark brown hair and good looks of von Mahler only infuriated. ‘What's the use of my “pulling” myself together, Colonel? With one down, they have only one more to go and everything will be neat and tidy.'

‘Now listen—'

‘No, you listen. They drowned Adrienne de Langlade, and when Mireille de Sinéty found out about it, they realized she was about to sing. No matter who used the sickle on that girl, it has to have been done with the sanction of all of them. And don't give me any of that
Quatsch
about the bishop and Simondi worshipping the girl and needing her. To them she was a threat they couldn't tolerate.'

Von Mahler searched for something. A paper-pusher all his life, was that what he'd been? snorted Kohler and said, ‘When we first met, Herr Oberst, you told me you had no idea who had replaced you as the third judge. For all you knew, Simondi could have cancelled the audition. Since the concierge hadn't been aware of one, you stated that this must mean there hadn't been one.'

‘And?'

Von Mahler's iron-grey eyes met his without a waver. ‘Those were all lies, Colonel, and you knew it even then. That concierge was in a cinema that was reserved for your men.'

‘The projectionist and usherettes are French. One more would not have mattered.'

‘But it
did
, Colonel, and I think you're more than a little aware of this. Salvatore Biron was purposely delayed until after Rivaille and the others had left the Palais –
if
they did leave it, as they claim. He found the body moments too late and heard a sigh that couldn't have been hers.'

‘All right. Simondi did ask me to allow Salvatore to watch that film. At the time, I thought it could do no harm.'

‘And your wife, Herr Oberst?'

Kohler wasn't going to leave things alone, not now, ‘Was at the Palais. It was she who gave the sigh Salvatore heard. I … I was merely trying to protect her.'

‘From the
Cagoule
or from justice?
Bitte, mein lieber
Oberst, I must ask it.'

‘From exposure, then. I couldn't have her forced into facing yours and St-Cyr's questions and then those of an official inquiry.'

‘She saw someone.'

‘She
thinks
she did, but it was far too dark.'

Von Mahler's expression was firm in resolve, but what the hell …‘I'm going to have to speak to her, Colonel. You can't refuse. Maybe you could with my partner, but not with me, my friend. Not with me.'

‘Perhaps, then, you had best read this. It's from Gestapo Mueller in Berlin but was forwarded to me via Gestapo Boemelburg in Paris.'

GEHEIME

Achtung
. The Avignon murder under investigation by St-Cyr and Kohler is an internal matter for the French to settle. No assistance is to be given.

HEIL HITLER

‘Then it's up to them, is it,' asked Kohler, ‘and the
Cagoule
they control?'

Some men would never learn. ‘Though it will sound lame, and it was myself who requested the two of you, my hands are tied. I'm sorry, but apparently the Reich has far more need of them than it has of you and St-Cyr.'

Kohler sighed heavily at the ways of the Occupation, and for a moment devoted himself entirely to Nino. Then he looked up, took his time, and said, ‘At the conclusion of our last investigation, Colonel, my partner and I filled Gestapo Boemelburg's car with loot we had recovered. All my boss really wants is to make certain he keeps it.'

‘And the others? The rest of Gestapo Paris-Central, the SS of the avenue Foch, the French Gestapo of the rue Lauriston, and, yes, Gestapo Mueller?'

‘Want an end to us, but obviously they've not heard Louis is no more.'

‘No more? But he's at the morgue as I told you. I saw de Passe let him out of the car not two hours ago.'

Alone with the body of Mireille de Sinéty and the things she had worn, St-Cyr tried to concentrate. There was so little time. There was the threat of the
Cagoule
– de Passe and the others would have to put a stop to Hermann and himself. They'd have no other choice, not after what had happened at the mill, and yet … and yet time had to be taken. ‘You are demanding it of me,' he said to her shrouded corpse. ‘You expect me to put my mind back into the very early Renaissance and to think as one would have then, but I have to tell you that that order book you kept with the glyphs as a shorthand is sadly with my partner in the car.'

Spread out on one of the pallets was the
jewel-and-enseigne-
studded belt with its talismans and tiny silver bells. The
aumônière sarrasine
was there but he had emptied the purse and had fanned out its contents.