Speak Softly My Love (24 page)

“
Yes, but you can still try her again. Unless there is some
kind of collusion between the two women,
her
husband is still a
missing-person case. What if she just says she never had one? She
might have never been out of the country. As far as she knows, her
husband is missing. That only lasts as long as Didier doesn’t call
home. Right?”

Tailler
stared at him like he had two heads.

“
Oh, yes, sir. Sure. One of them must have killed him—and then
killed that other woman too. Right, sir? It’s like she found out
about the other woman. She goes a bit nuts, decides to cut them
both. I know it sounds crazy sir, but that’s all we’re getting out
of it so far—”

Gilles
nodded.

“
I suppose it
could
have happened that way. They say truth can be
stranger than fiction, Emile.”

Gilles
gave Levain a look. Andres’ eyebrows climbed and he shook his head.
Hubert responded to a similar look with a shrug.

“
My feeling is that we’ll never find the knife.”

Maintenon nodded in Hubert’s direction. It wasn’t even that
important, unless it had fingerprints on it. But it would have gone
into the river or more likely a sewer somewhere.

“
So, ah, sir. What do you want us to do next?”

“
Oh, that’s easy, Tailler.”

“
It is? Okay, sir. I’m sure that’s all very true. If you
wouldn’t mind dropping us a little hint?”

Gilles
cracked his first good grin of the day.

He got
up and headed for the coffeepot on its cast-iron hot plate. Pausing
where Tailler stood leaning against the front of his desk, he
nodded. Turning back, he took another look, a good look, at the big
fellow.

Tailler
stared, willing him to answer.

Finally
he spoke.

“
I want you to keep going, Tailler.”

“
Argh.” Levain pulled out an already damp handkerchief and
blew his nose like a trumpet.

He
really was suffering.

As if
sensing Tailler’s oblique scrutiny, Levain looked up.

“
Okay, Emile. What’s your next move?’

Emile
grinned.

“
We move our pawn ahead one square.”

Levain
grunted appreciatively.

Tailler
looked over at an expectant Hubert, who was quite frankly at a
loss, although one or two half-baked ideas had presented
themselves. Such things often had a way of doing that, usually
about the same time as his head hit the pillow.

“
Feel like a train ride to Molsheim?” Tailler looked at
Maintenon but saw no signs of disapproval. “We’ll be gone for a
couple of days anyway.”

Hubert
tipped his head. He also took a quick glance at the boss, who
seemed to be mentally elsewhere. He was almost done his coffee. He
slurped it down.

“
Sure. Why not.”

The
phone rang and a ready hand picked it up.

“
Hello. Maintenon speaking.”

***

From
Paris to Molsheim was a good six or seven hours by train. Since
they were going to be away overnight, it was a little more complex
than just dropping everything and bolting.

Their
sense was that they had gotten a bit lucky on their first trip to
Lyon. This was different—they knew what they were looking for now.
The understood the problem a little better. They had called ahead,
using good sense and proper protocol, and made contact with the
Molsheim police.

They
were expected, possibly even welcome.

Hubert
had called Emmanuelle. Tailler spent what seemed like hours on the
telephone. First he had to get hold of a sister. Any of the three
would do but they were all out when he first tried. That was the
worst feeling, just sitting there wasting time and looking at the
clock half the time. The pair of them occupied their time in
planning. They had to draw cash, and then figure out what if any
materials to bring with them. In the end they decided to leave
everything but a minimal number of photos. What they needed were
fresh pens, clean notebooks and long list of questions.

Good
questions.

Tough
questions.

They
would be thorough-going bastards.

They
were busy enough, fielding the occasional foray from the other
detectives. Tailler finally got hold of his sister Emily and made
arrangements for her to look after their mother for at least two
days. She promised to get the others to help out if became a big
problem. Things came up in her life unexpectedly, what with kids
and a husband of her own to look after.

Then
Tailler had to call his mother and deal with her questions and
concerns. Disruptions to her routine were sometimes upsetting to
the old lady, and he soothed her as best he could.

They
decided to take the overnight train, which doubled their travel
time—apparently it made all the stops, but at least they would
arrive, relatively fresh, early enough to put in a full day. They
had some ideas on that score. The last thing for both men was to
nip home by taxicab, pack a quick bag and say whatever goodbyes
were appropriate to their situation. Hubert had a parakeet, and
then of course there was Emmanuelle.

Tailler
had never slept on a train before, so he was a little worried about
that. He’d just have to deal with it. Hubert had been to the south
on a summer vacation with his parents as a boy of twelve or
thirteen.

The only
thing he could really say was that back then, the berths seemed a
lot bigger.

***

There
was a certain tackiness involved in not having a proper shower
before work. Arriving in Molsheim little worse for wear, Hubert and
Tailler rented a car. They got directions to the police station.
Their man, acquainted with Gilles somehow from their war years, was
in. They spoke to him and let him know they were working in his
area and what the case was about.

Hubert
told Inspector Descamps about Zoe Godeffroy. Zoe was a local
citizen and she had been found dead in a Paris hotel room. The
decedent had been stabbed. Descamps asked few questions.

Tailler
went into it briefly, the fellow nodding sagely when he got to the
bit about too many wives, two victims stabbed in the guts, all that
sort of thing.

“
It’s a little complex.”

The
gentleman had a dry little smile in a face like a bloodhound. He
was all bloodshot eyes, sagging jowls and ears that seemed just a
little too big. Those eyebrows badly needed trimming. The eyes were
warm and blue. A certain intelligent light danced around in
there.

“
Ah, good old Gilles. He gets all the really interesting
ones.” His eyes wavered and he nodded. “Then we shall leave it to
you two gentlemen. We’re here if you need anything, and we’d
certainly like to be kept apprised of events.”

“
Thank you, sir.” They were dismissed, and Hubert
stood.

Tailler
nodded in thanks, hat in hand.

They
knew better than to think he was the easygoing sort.

With
just the hint of a blush, Hubert was the first to stick out a paw.
They shook hands like old friends and then the door thudded behind
them. A minute later, they were dropping down the front steps to
where their rented sedan awaited them.

***

“
Okay, where’s the address. We need the map.” Hubert had
compromised by letting or perhaps making Tailler drive was a better
description.

Hubert
wanted to think, to see, to observe. He wanted the map in his lap
and his mind on the case. More than anything, he wanted to keep a
leash on Tailler, who could be overly enthusiastic at times when
calm, cool professionalism might have been a better
choice.

Tailler
could use the driving practice. Admittedly, it was a strange town.
It was also so much smaller than Paris. Considering the price of a
day’s insurance, a little damage might be simple justice. The
trouble was that big deductible or Hubert might have suggested it.
He would only be half-joking.

Emile
Tailler got the little Peugeot family saloon into gear. Hubert
thought it rather pretty in a very dark green. Emile stuck his left
arm confidently out the window and his hat firmly wedged in place.
He had his head cranked fully around and was looking to enter
traffic, which did not look unmanageable. The place was so small,
what looked like a farm tractor rumbled past, and then a lorry,
heavily-laden with wicker baskets of poultry. He dutifully checked
the mirror.

“
Hold on, give me a second.”

They
were more or less in the centre of what was a pretty small town.
Tailler looked over.

“
You know they make Bugattis here?”

“
They also make some pretty good wines around
here.”

Something caught Hubert’s eye and he took a moment to
appreciate a rather attractive young woman going past on the
sidewalk.

“
Hmn.”

“
You just forget about all of that.”

“
You get to drive. I get to do the thinking, right Emile?”
He’d sort of twisted the concession out of Tailler.

He
wondered how long that might actually last, now that he had a
minute to think about it.

Studying
the map with his head down, Hubert’s lips moved in what might have
been a silent prayer.

“
All right. We’re facing the wrong way. We need to go back the
other way, about three blocks.”

“
Your every wish is my command,
mon
ami.
” Biting his lip in pure bliss, for
Emile was probably the only
gars
in the whole world who didn’t know how bad he
was, he eased out the clutch.

With one
foot on the brake, the car strained at the leash.

Hubert’s
mouth opened, as for some unknown reason Tailler’s big, big hands
were cranking the steering wheel all the way to opposite
lock.

The
engine revolutions mounted and Hubert was just about to
speak.

No.

It was
starting already.

The left
foot slipped sideways rather than smoothly pulling back. Tailler
dropped the hammer at about 3,500 rpm and the car was nothing if
not willing.

“
Whoa.” Hubert clung on to the door handle and the edge of the
seat as his map slid, the pencil spun and disappeared down beside
the seat and blue smoke came in the window with that acrid
burnt-rubber smell.

He was
jammed up hard against the passenger door, tires
screaming.

The car
body slewed from side to side as Tailler straightened her out with
a flick of his big, strong wrist and did a quick gear-change into
second.

He looked over, just as happy as a
cauchon
en
merde.

“
Okay, how far up?”

The revs
and the speed were mounting.

“
Watch the road.”

For crying out loud, Tailler.

***

Molsheim
was a nice little town, with the elevation changes coming closer
together than back home. There wasn’t quite the density, and the
urban forest, big lots and the wide-open fields where nothing much
at all was going on, was quite alien to the both of
them.

Emile
loved being out in the country, behind the wheel, free as a
bird.

They
were just west of the town, more of a big village, with the low
heads of the mountains hanging before them and the morning sun
behind them.

“
Is that the Jura or the Vosges?”

Hubert
looked over.

“
That, Emile, is a very good question.”

They had
the address from the hotel registry from the Maison Rive Gauche. It
turned out to be legitimate. Zoe Godeffroy lived in a small
pension-style flat in a small building on what were the outskirts
of town. They had made one wrong turn, and Hubert was temporarily
stumped by a dead end road. By spinning the map around and staring
out over the town from a small prominence, he was able to get a
general sense of what direction they should have been
going.

“
Left.”

Tailler,
of course, hat tipped back and temporarily besotted with the
experience of driving, began leaning into a right turn.

“
The other left!”

Tires
squeaked as the guy reversed his turn and barely made it
around.

“
Sorry.”

“
No. No, way. You’re doing that on purpose, Emile.”

Tailler
just grinned, shaking his head.

After
some driving, some of the time going way too fast and some of the
time going way too slow, always impulsive and unpredictable, the
irrepressible Tailler had finally and triumphantly drawn to a halt
in front of an unprepossessing edifice. The street was narrow,
cobbled and the balconies and window boxes on the upper two stories
loomed low overhead, blocking out what little sun they got as the
street ran east and west.