The Three Evangelists (20 page)

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘He won’t be able to accuse her of anything. Alexandra didn’t go out all night.’

‘I know,’ said Marc with a sigh. ‘That’s what she says. But he won’t believe her. From the start he hasn’t believed a word she’s said.’

‘That’s his job,’ said Juliette. ‘But I can tell you she didn’t move. That’s the truth and I can tell him so.’

Marc grabbed her hand.

‘Tell me, how do you know?’

‘I could see,’ smiled Juliette. ‘At eleven o’clock, I finished my book and put out the light. But I couldn’t sleep. I often can’t. Sometimes I hear Georges snoring upstairs and that keeps me awake. But last night there wasn’t even any snoring. So I went downstairs to get another book, and stayed down there reading until about half-past two. Then I thought I really ought to try and get some sleep. So I went back up and forced myself to take a pill and went off to sleep. But what I can tell you, Marc, is that between eleven o’clock and about half-past two, Alexandra didn’t go out. There wasn’t any sound of noise or cars. When she goes out at night, she takes the little boy with her. I don’t like her doing that. Anyway last night Kyril’s little nightlight was on. He’s afraid of the dark, like any child.’

Marc felt all his hopes evaporate. He looked at Juliette, aghast.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Juliette. ‘You ought to be happy. Lex is out of trouble.’

Marc shook his head. Looking round the restaurant which was starting to fill up, he moved closer to Juliette.

‘You’re sure that at about two in the morning you heard absolutely nothing,’ he whispered.

‘I just told you,’ said Juliette. ‘So you’ve no need to worry.’

Marc drank off half the glass of beer and buried his face in his hands.

‘Juliette,’ he said softly. ‘You’re very kind.’

Juliette looked at him, puzzled.

‘But you’re lying,’ Marc went on. ‘You’ve just told me a pack of lies.’

‘Keep your voice down!’ Juliette told him. ‘You don’t believe me! Why not, for heaven’s sake!’

Marc gripped Juliette’s hand even more tightly and saw that Mathias was looking across at him.

‘Listen, Juliette: you did see Alexandra go out last night and you know she’s lying to us. So you’re lying in turn to protect her. You may be trying to be kind, but you’ve just told me the opposite of what you wanted me to think. Because at two this morning,
I
was outside in the
street myself. And I was in front of your gate, with Mathias, trying to get Lucien back in the house, he was drunk. And you were fast asleep with your sleeping pill, so you didn’t hear the racket he was making? You must have been fast asleep. And you’ve made me remember, now that I think of it, that there wasn’t a light in Kyril’s window. None at all. Ask Mathias.’

Juliette’s face fell. She turned to Mathias who nodded. Slowly.

‘So, please tell me the truth now,’ said Marc. ‘It’ll be better for Lex in the end if we’re going to protect her intelligently. Because your little plan won’t work. You’re too naïve, you think the police are stupid.’

‘Stop gripping my hand like that!’ said Juliette. ‘You’re hurting me. The customers will see.’

‘Come on, Juliette.’

Silently, her head bent, Juliette went back to washing glasses in the sink.

‘All we have to do is agree our story,’ she said suddenly. ‘You didn’t go out to fetch Lucien, and I didn’t hear anything, and Lex didn’t go out. Full stop.’

Marc shook his head. ‘Lucien was shouting like crazy, any neighbour could have heard him. It won’t work and it’ll only make things worse. Tell me the truth, it will be for the best. After that we’ll see how economical we need to be with the truth.’

Juliette remained undecided, twisting the tea towel in her hands. Mathias went over to her, put his big hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear.

‘Alright,’ said Juliette. ‘I went about it the wrong way. But how was I to know you were outside at two in the morning? Alexandra did go out in her car. She went out very quietly without putting on her lights, probably so as not to wake Kyril.’

‘What time was it?’ asked Marc, his throat dry.

‘Quarter-past eleven. When I went down to fetch a book. That bit is true. I felt a bit cross seeing her go off, if you must know, because of the boy. Whether she’d taken him or left him behind on his own, it still upset me. I said to myself that I must pluck up courage to say something to
her about it next day, though it isn’t my business. The nightlight wasn’t on, it’s true. And no, I didn’t stay downstairs reading. I went back up and took a sleeping pill, because I was upset. I went off to sleep straightaway. Then when I heard the news this morning at ten, I panicked. I heard Lex telling you just now that she hadn’t left the house. So I thought the best thing to do would be …’

‘To back her up?’

Juliette nodded sadly. ‘I’d have done better to keep quiet,’ she said.

‘Don’t reproach yourself,’ Marc said. ‘The police would have found out sooner or later. Because Alexandra didn’t park her car in the same place when she got back. Now that I know, I remember that last night before supper, Sophia’s car was parked a few yards up from your gate. I went past it-it’s red, you notice it. This morning when I went to get the paper at about half-past ten, it wasn’t there. The space was taken by a grey car, I think it belongs to the people up the road. Alexandra must have found the space taken when she got back, so she had to park somewhere else. That’ll be child’s play for the police. This is a small street, everyone knows the cars, and other neighbours would probably notice that kind of thing.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ said Juliette. ‘She might have gone out again this morning.’

‘Well, they’ll check that too.’

‘But if she really had done what Leguennec suspects, she would have made sure to park it in the same place.’

‘Juliette, don’t be silly. How could she do that if someone else had parked there? She couldn’t magic it away.’

‘No, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. My head’s all over the place. All the same, Marc, Lex did go out, but she was just going for a drive, that’s all it was!’

‘I think that too,’ said Marc. ‘But how do you think we can get that into Leguennec’s head? What a night to choose to go for a drive. After all the fuss that’s already caused, you’d think she’d stay put.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ said Juliette.

‘Well, I’m getting bloody angry,’ said Marc. ‘Anyone would think she’s doing it on purpose.’

‘How was she to know Dompierre would be killed? Put yourself in her place.’

‘In her place, I wouldn’t have stirred from the house. She’s really in a tight spot now, Juliette.’ Marc banged his fist on the counter and finished his beer.

‘What can we do?’ asked Juliette.

‘I’m going to Dourdan to see what’s to be done there. I’m going to look for whatever Dompierre was after. Leguennec can’t stop me. Siméonidis is free to let anyone see his archives if he wants to. The police can check that I haven’t taken anything. Have you got her father’s address?’

‘No, but anyone will tell you over there. Sophia had a little house in the same street. She bought it so she could visit her father, without having to stay under the same roof as her stepmother. They didn’t get on. It’s a little way out of the town centre, rue des Ifs. Wait, and I’ll go and check.’

Mathias came over, when Juliette went into the kitchen to get her handbag.

‘Are you off now?’ said Mathias. ‘D’you want me to come with you? It might be wise. Things are hotting up.’

Marc smiled at him. ‘Thanks, Mathias. But I think you’d better stay here. Juliette needs you and so does Lex. And anyway you’ve got the little Greek to look after and you’re very good at that. It makes me calmer to know you’re here. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. If I need to contact you, I’ll telephone here or to Juliette’s house. Tell the godfather when he comes.’

Juliette came back with her address book. ‘The street is the allée des Grands-Ifs. Sophia’s house is number 12. The old man’s is somewhere nearby.’

‘OK, got it. If Leguennec asks, you went to sleep at eleven and didn’t hear a thing. He’ll work it out for himself

‘Of course,’ said Juliette.

‘Tell your brother to say the same, just in case. I’m just looking in at our house then I’m off to get the train.’

A sudden gust of wind blew open a window that had not been closed properly. The storm was arriving, apparently a fiercer one than the
météo
had forecast. It seemed to invigorate Marc, who jumped down from his stool and hurried out.

Back home, he quickly packed a few things. He didn’t know how long he’d be away, or if he would find anything. But he had to try and do something. That fool Alexandra could think of nothing better to do than go driving round at night again. The fucking idiot, how stupid could you get? Marc cursed as he threw a few things into his rucksack. He was trying to convince himself that Alexandra had indeed just been driving around. And that she had lied to him simply to protect herself. That was it, there couldn’t be anything else behind it. It took a lot of concentration. He didn’t hear Lucien coming in behind him.

‘Are you packing?’ asked Lucien. ‘You’re making a terrible mess of it. Look at your shirt!’

Marc glanced up at Lucien. Of course, there were no classes on Wednesday afternoons.

‘Bugger the shirt,’ he said. ‘Alexandra is in deep trouble. She went out last night, like a complete idiot. I’m off to Dourdan. I’m going to search in the Siméonidis archives. At least they won’t be in Latin or Old French, that’ll make a change. I’m used to looking through papers quickly, perhaps I’ll find something.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ said Lucien. ‘I don’t want you ending up with a knife in the guts too. Let’s stick together, soldier.’

Marc stopped stuffing things into the rucksack and looked at Lucien. First Mathias, now him. Coming from Mathias, he understood it and was touched. But Marc had never believed that Lucien was interested in anything except himself and the Great War. Interested, and committed even. Well, perhaps he had been mistaken about a lot of things lately.

‘Do you mind?’ said Lucien. ‘You look surprised.’

‘I was thinking of something else.’

‘I can guess what you were thinking. But forget it, it’s better to work in pairs. Vandoosler and Mathias here, you and me over there. Wars don’t get won single-handedly, look what happened to Dompierre. So, I’m
coming with you. I’m used to archives too, and we’ll be quicker if there are two of us. Let me just pack a bag and let the school know I’ve got another dose of flu.’

‘OK,’ said Marc, ‘but hurry. The next train’s at 14.57 from the Gare d’usterlitz.’

XXIX

JUST UNDER TWO HOURS LATER, MARC AND LUCIEN WERE PROSPECTING
the allée des Grands-Ifs. A gale was blowing in Dourdan and Marc took deep breaths of the north-westerly. They stopped in front of number 12, which was surrounded by protective walls either side of a high wooden door.

‘Give me a leg-up,’ Marc said. ‘I’d like to take a look at Sophia’s place.’

‘What’s the point?’ Lucien asked.

‘Just curious.’

Lucien put his bag down carefully, checked that nobody was around in the street and linked his hands.

‘Take your shoe off,’ he told Marc. ‘I don’t want muck on my hands.’

Marc sighed, pulled off one shoe and, holding on to Lucien, climbed up to peer over the wall.

‘Can you see anything?’ Lucien asked.

‘There’s always something to see.’

‘Well, what?’

‘It’s a big place. Sophia was very rich, of course. The garden goes down in a slope behind the house.’

‘What’s the house like? Ugly, I guess?’

‘No, not at all,’ Marc replied. ‘It looks a bit Greek, but with a tiled roof. It’s long and white, single-storey. She must have had it built. That’s odd, the shutters aren’t even closed. Wait, no, there are wrought-iron bars on the windows. That’s Greek too. There’s a garage and a well. It’s all modern, the only thing that’s old is the well. Nice place in summer.’

‘Can you come down?’

‘Why? Are you getting tired?’

‘No. But someone might come.’

‘Yes, you’re right, I’ll come down.’

Marc put his shoe back on and they walked along the street noting the names on doors or letterboxes, when there were any. They preferred not to ask anyone, so as to be as discreet as possible.

‘There,’ said Lucien, after about a hundred yards. ‘That smart little house with flowers round it.’

Marc made out the name on a tarnished brass plate: K. and J. Siméonidis. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Remember what we agreed.’

‘I’m not stupid,’ said Lucien.

‘OK, OK.’

A rather fine-looking elderly man opened the door. He looked at them without speaking, waiting for an explanation. Since his daughter’s death, he had had to open the door to many people: police, journalists, Dompierre.

Lucien and Marc took it in turns to explain the reason for their visit, trying to put it as kindly as possible. They had agreed on this in the train, but the great sadness on Siméonidis’ face made it come naturally. They spoke very gently of Sophia. By the time they had finished, they almost believed their story, which was that Sophia, as their neighbour, had entrusted them with a personal mission. Marc told the story of the tree. It’s always best to have an element of truth in a made-up story. After the tree incident, Sophia had still been anxious. One evening when chatting to them in the street, she had made them promise that if anything happened to her, they would try to find out what had happened. She was not confident in the police, because they have so many missing persons. But she would trust them not to give up. That was why they were there, out of respect and friendship for Sophia, and feeling they should carry out her wishes.

Siméonidis listened attentively to this story, which started to sound more and more clumsy to Marc as they went on with it. He invited them in. A uniformed policeman was in the sitting-room, asking questions of
a woman who must be the second Madame Siméonidis. Marc did not dare to look hard at her, especially since their entrance had interrupted the session. He noted out of the corner of his eye a woman of about sixty, rather plump, with her hair in a chignon, who only made the vaguest of greetings towards them. She was concentrating on the policeman’s questions and had that energetic look of people who wish to be considered energetic. Siméonidis crossed the room briskly, taking Marc and Lucien with him and being deliberately careless of the policeman who was occupying his sitting-room. But the policeman brought all three of them up short, jumping to his feet. He was young, with that obstinate, closed look, typical of the worst kind of short-sighted idiot who obeys orders without thinking. They were out of luck. Lucien sighed in an exaggerated way.