The Art of Murder (25 page)

“
Really?” Andre had a hard
time believing that.

He didn’t recall anything of the sort.
Had he really been totally unconscious, then?

“
Yes. And now I suggest that
you go home, Andre. You have made great progress in our sessions. I
might suggest that we take a break for a while. If you continue to
have problems, of course, come back and see me. N’est
pas?”

Andre blinked at this idea as the Swami
smiled amiably and pushed his own chair back. Andre rose, a little
unsteady on his feet. He felt refreshed, and totally
calm.

“
Thank you!” Andre shook
hands and examined the face of The Great Swami. “Thank you, thank
you.”

“
Good luck to you all.” The
Swami patted him on the back of the shoulder and reached for the
door handle.

Light spilled in from the front waiting
room, angled shadows announcing that the sun was back out and in
another moment, Andre was gone.

Chapter
Eighteen

“
You are getting very, very
sleepy.”

“
You are getting very, very
sleepy.”

Gilles sat bolt upright, mouth open in
a stupid look, and then looked wildly around the room. Levain
grinned in delight, and sauntered casually over to his desk, where
he plopped his backside down with an audible sigh.

“
Andre! What is this?” He
sat up straight, and looked at his coffee. “Argh.”

Putting a hand on it, it was dead
cold.

“
Why, I hypnotized you,
boss.” Andre leaned back and folded his hands behind his
head.

“
Like hell you did.” Gilles
had fallen asleep at his desk, after the others had
left.

“
No, I did. And now, you’re
going to have some great and intuitive leap of the imagination, and
thusly, I know how you hate that word, thusly provide us with the
insight to move forward and solve this case…if we actually have a
case, which no one can say for sure because you haven’t told them.
But I digress.”

Andre knew how he hated that one as
well.

“
No. No, you’re right. I
need a kick in the pants, Andre.” Gilles was glum. “Maybe even a
couple of them.”

Sooner or later there would be an order
from above. When that happened it was over barring some later
revelation.

“
Boss, I want to give it a
try.”

“
What?” Gilles was at a loss
as to what Andre was talking about. “You want to hypnotize me?
You’re mad. Andre, I always knew this would happen.”

He smiled, which took the sting out of
it.

“
No, seriously. I want to
hypnotize them—them, Inspector.”

Gilles’ eyes popped at the sheer
audacity of it. If nothing else, it would scare the shit out of
their anonymous killer.

“
We’ll save that for a last
resort.”

“
Just promise me you’ll
think about it.” Andre’s retort fell on appreciative ears as Gilles
grinned and nodded again.

***

With the permission of Alain Duval, in
consultation with his attorney, they were going to conduct an
experiment.

Madame Fontaine had been close to tears
at their announcement, but Alain, who was still living in his
apartment for the time being, told her to take the rest of the day
off. With no one living there, just a couple of servants coming in
daily, there was little enough for her to do. Alain hadn’t yet
decided whether to sell the place, or let it out, or stay there
himself. In the short term, the expense was bearable to the estate,
which would take some time to settle.

Jules, the driver, had already been let
go. The word was that he was seeking other employment, and none too
successfully the last anyone had heard. He had been ruled out as a
suspect long ago, and when Gilles had a moment to think about it,
he wondered if that wasn’t a little short-sighted. There were
limits to what he could do.

“
Monsieur Duval…”

“
Alain. Please call me
Alain.” He was pale, but otherwise calm. “Yes?”

“
We’re a little short of
manpower.” Levain phrased it carefully indeed. “I wonder if you
might help us? I know it is a terrible thing to ask, but, if you
would be so good as to wait until we take our places. Then fire the
weapon into the books.”

They had taped together twenty
hard-cover books hurriedly purchased from a used bookseller. The
bundle was propped up on the very same chair, in the exact same
position, as when his brother died.

All the experts agreed, they would be
enough to stop the slug. Getting a suspect to help in such a matter
was a little unusual, but not unheard of. Gilles quietly studied
the man, who paled, but took the gun readily enough. Alain looked
up grimly into Gilles’ gaze.

“
This is a shitty thing to
ask.”

“
Yes, sir, we know.” Andre
stepped in to assuage Alain’s nameless fears. “It’s just that we
are conducting this investigation on a shoestring, and we only have
so many people.”

“
We’re not trying to play a
trick on you.” Alain’s haunted eyes took in Le Bref, Emile, and
then back to Gilles. “Please, just try and have a little faith in
us, Monsieur Duval.”

His jaw worked back and forth like an
addict late for a fix, and for all they knew, that was exactly what
he was.

“
All right, all right. Let’s
get on with it, for Christ’s sakes.”

Gilles nodded at the others and they
cleared the room.

“
We’ll give them two or
three minutes to get in position. This is just my opinion, Monsieur
Duval, but the likelihood is that we really can’t hear it.” Gilles
was tempted to comfort him further, but it would be unwelcome and
probably wouldn’t do any good anyway.

In his career, Gilles had offered
reassurance to more than one person who turned out to be not so
nice after all. He didn’t see it as a major contradiction. Alain
looked at his watch. Gilles went into the hallway and closed the
door. Rather than go to his assigned position, he simply bent over
and peered through the key-hole. To his surprise, Alain either had
no idea of how to cock it, or he might have been the greatest actor
the world had ever seen. The look on his face said it all, as he
looked in frustration at the now-closed door as if wishing for some
help.

This hadn’t been foreseen, and Gilles
had no idea of what to do. Finally, Alain managed to get a sharp
click from the weapon and a shell ejected onto the carpet. Alain
stared at it stupidly, then bent down to pick it up. He put it on
the desk. He shoved the slide mechanism forward again.

After another moment, Alain was
convinced it would fire. His hand shook almost uncontrollably now.
He steadied it by clutching his right wrist with his left hand. He
squeezed off three shots, a full two seconds apart as
instructed.

The reports were loud enough where
Gilles was standing, yet even then they weren’t as loud as he had
expected. The house was of brick, and stone, and mortar, and
solidly built, but it was the door that surprised him. Even at two
and a half inches thick, solid oak, he was surprised it wasn’t
louder.

He retreated down the hallway to wait
for the others. Turning around and pretending to be on the return
trip, he was rewarded by the sight and sound of Alain opening the
door and sticking his head out.

“
Don’t ever ask me to do
that again.” Alain was understandably bitter about being asked to
essentially re-enact the death, perhaps even the murder, of his
brother.

“
I’m sorry, Monsieur Duval,
I really am.” Gilles was full of sympathy.

“
For the love of God, call
me Alain. I am my own person, for fuck’s sakes.”

Maintenon carefully took the gun from
his willing hand and put the safety on.

“
They’ll be here in just a
minute, and then we will have our answer.”

Alain’s face was set in stone. Soon
they were all back in the room, with Andre for one shaking his head
in disappointment. Le Bref, who had been stationed in a bedroom
directly overhead on the floor above, thought that he might have
heard it, he was almost sure of that, but also doubted the noise
would have woken a sound sleeper.

“
It was just a light thud,
or a pop like a motorcycle backfiring a hundred metres away, like
on the next block or around the corner.” He had a look of
uncertainty on his face. “For all I know, that might have been what
I heard.”

He looked around at the others, but
none could say for sure.

“
Well.” Gilles was
contemplative. “It would have helped us with the time of death,
which has some importance. If only someone had heard it. But we
know a fact now, and that always helps.”

The notion that no one had heard the
shot was at least credible.

“
Merde. I’ll buy that for a
dollar.” Henri put the mass of old books, now seriously holed and
distorted by the impact of three slugs, into a clean white pillow
case for study and eventual disposal.

It would be unfair to expect Madame
Fontaine to clean up the room, so the men gave it a quick once-over
with an eye to disturbing nothing.

“
Thank you for helping us,
Alain.”

Alain had the sheen of tears in his
eyes.

“
But of course.”

Maintenon, understanding what pain was
perhaps better than most, wished there was something he could say.
Trust me? I know what I am doing? This must all end, sooner or
later?

But that would have been complete and
utter nonsense.

***

Gilles had an inner conflict. While he
loved his brother and his sister-in-law, and while his nieces and
nephews were certainly adorable, it was like he didn’t have
anything to talk about. He had never spoken about individual cases
to any family member, and the visit was more effort than pleasure.
He hadn’t been keeping up with all the family news, and to be
truthful, they weren’t that good about writing letters and making
phone calls anyway. The fact that one of his nephews was getting
married held some interest, but he didn’t know or recall anyone
from the bride’s family, and had no real observations to offer. Of
course Gilles was happy for young Raymond, whom he remembered from
his last visit home as a callow and sarcastic fellow of about
fourteen or fifteen years of age, a gangling, emaciated youth with
pimply cheeks and a lazy way of sleeping in until noon. Raymond
must be in his twenties now.

They knew he was floundering, of
course, but cheerfully soldiered on in their stated goal of
‘livening him up a little.’ Their visit had been announced some
weeks ago, yet it seemed like it happened by default. They were in
town, and so he was privileged to be their host.

It annoyed him when they spoke of her.
He wished they would stop. The adults should have understood. The
children were practically rolling their eyes whenever her name was
mentioned. Gilles manfully resisted the urge to look at his watch
or the clock on the mantel.

Madame Lefevre brought the smallest one
in from the kitchen, beaming with a kind of surrogate joy, having
given the little one her bottle. Gilles hoped his look of relief
wasn’t misinterpreted by Isobel, looking sleek and polished on the
sofa opposite. He found himself slightly repelled by her dark,
bold-coloured lipstick and painted toenails.

Paul was his youngest brother, and he
wasn’t quite sure of his birthday anymore. Too many years away and
you became a stranger to your own brother. There were so many of
them in this family. Stolidly optimistic and with a more rounded
face than Gilles, there was still a sense of love there. He
analyzed it as he listened.

“
Marcel, he’s still got a
bit of hair. But look at me.” Paul gave a quizzical grin. “You
really should come down home for a visit soon. Oh, I’ sure any one
of them would be glad to have you, but you can stay with us. We’ve
got plenty of room.”

What in the living hell would he do
there? Sit around in parlours talking to his relatives? The word
‘egads,’ popped into his mind, but hopefully, he kept his
expression unchanged.

“
Oh, thank you.” Gilles
smiled dutifully, noting a glance from Madame Lefevre.
“Yes?”

“
Monsieur, I was wondering
how many for dinner?”

“
Ah…” Gilles’ eyes rounded
and his eyelids fluttered at the question. “Oh.”

He looked blankly at Paul and
Isobel.

“
Oh, no, that’s all right,
Gilles.” Isobel was sharp.

He remembered that much. It must have
been eight or ten years since he was last home.

“
We’re going to the opera,
and we really should be getting along.” Paul looked at the wife.
“We’re having dinner out. It’ll be a nice treat for Isobel and the
kids.”

“
Oh, ah.”

She was a nice person, and Gilles could
have found a modicum of affection for her, if the hugs and goodbye
kisses with the family last time were anything to go by. He was
glad they had found each other, for if any couple seemed happy they
did. But Gilles wasn’t party to their no-doubt romantic tale,
hadn’t been at their wedding, and had spent a grand total of about
six hours in her company in his entire acquaintance with
Isobel.