Unholy Ghost (9 page)

Chapter Eighteen

It was still Paris in the spring, but Jimmy wasn't interested in the sights or the weather any more. He wasn't a tourist. He wasn't sure what he was except for one thing, he was working. He took a taxi from the airport into Paris and booked into the same hotel opposite the Gare de l'Est. As soon as he was in his room he went out and stood on the little balcony set into the slope of the roof and looked down at the road below and, across the road, the station. People going somewhere, people whose lives had purpose, people who mattered. They'd shot McBride because she mattered, she was important, she had a purpose. But him they could ignore. He wasn't important. To them he had no purpose in whatever it was that had almost killed McBride.

‘Well, fuck you,' he said to the empty air, ‘I didn't matter, but I will. I'll find you and when I do …'

But the futility of flinging words into nowhere silenced him, empty words into the empty air. Don't talk about it, get on with it. He went back into the room, sat on his bed, and made a call.

‘Good morning, I'm trying to contact M. Joubert. He is? I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he soon recovers. I had an appointment with him just over week ago, he was helping the sisters at the convent of Bon Secours to trace somebody and I've been assisting in the search. Yes, Mr Costello, that's right. I came from Rome, visited the convent, and brought a letter of authorisation. You remember, good. There was also a dossier which I sent to M. Joubert by courier to return to Rome. Did it arrive safely and was it sent off like I asked? It arrived but you don't know if it was sent on. I see. Will M. Joubert be continuing to act for the sisters when he recovers sufficiently? No. Then perhaps you could tell me who is acting for them now. One minute, I need to get a pen and paper.' Jimmy pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket and a pen from another pocket. ‘Go on.' He wrote down the information as he got it. ‘And I should ask for?' He added a name and a direct line number. ‘Thank you, you have been most helpful. Please tell M. Joubert I asked after him. A sad comment on our times, I'm afraid. Goodbye.'

Jimmy put his phone down and looked at the name of the lawyers who had taken over from Joubert. It meant nothing to him except it wasn't French – Parker and Henry International. He picked up his phone again and dialled the direct line he had been given.

‘Good morning …' The voice at the other end replied and he glanced at his watch. It was two minutes past twelve. ‘Quite right, good afternoon. My name is Costello, James Costello, I have been asked by the Sisters of Bon Secours to assist them in the matter of finding someone. I was working with a M. Joubert but unfortunately he has had an accident and his office gave me Parker and Henry International as the firm who have taken over. I was told to ask for a Nadine Heppert. Thank you.' He waited until a voice came on the line. ‘Miss Heppert, Nadine Heppert? My name is Costello, James Costello, I was given this number by … Ah, you know what it's about. Good, that saves us both time. Would it be possible to meet? Thank you, that would suit me fine. I'm afraid I don't know Paris, which would be the best Metro station? La Défense, Line One, or RER Line A and it's the thirty-first floor of the Tower Initiale. No, don't bother, I'll ask directions when I get there. Thank you, and I look forward to our meeting.'

Tomorrow nine thirty. That was quick. He doubted she was someone with a lot of spare time so she must really want to see him. Why? As soon as he'd given her his name she knew what it was about. How did that work? Jimmy decided that tomorrow's meeting with Ms Heppert was going to be most interesting. One more call, then a beer and then somewhere for lunch.

Jimmy's call was to the hospital in Rome and the answer was “no change”, the non-committal bulletin he would go on getting until there was a change. But at least it meant she was still alive.

When Jimmy returned from lunch the receptionist told him there was someone waiting for him in his room.

‘You do that in Paris, you let callers wait in people's rooms?'

The receptionist ignored the irony of the question.

‘Yes, if they are the police and they say they have been asked by the guest to call.'

‘Did I ask this one to call?'

The clerk shrugged disclaiming any responsibility and looked down at some paperwork.

‘He said so.'

‘And you just took his word.'

The clerk looked up with dead eyes. He didn't care and nothing could make him care.

‘Why not? He is the police.'

Jimmy went up to his room and let himself in. Sitting in a chair by the balcony windows was the same man who had bounced him from the airport. He didn't get up as Jimmy closed the door. Seeing as how the policeman had the only chair Jimmy sat on the bed.

‘You got my message then?'

‘What do you want, Mr Costello? I am a busy man and I have no time for games.'

‘Deporting me was a game?'

‘You were not deported, merely asked to leave. You left of your own free will.'

The policeman was about forty with short black curly hair. He wore a dark suit with a tie hanging loose at his open collar. He looked worn rather than sloppy. Jimmy guessed he was more a working copper than a desk-jockey.

‘You're a busy man and I have a job to do so let's not jerk each other about. You got told to kick me out and warn me off, which you did. Now I'm back. Are you interested or not?'

The policeman waited before he answered.

‘Go on, Mr Costello. I'm listening.'

‘I got asked to do a job of finding a missing person for the Sisters of Bon Secours here in Paris. I was sent by my boss in Rome as a favour to the superior of the nuns' order.'

‘Your boss?'

‘Professor Pauline McBride. She works for an institution in Rome, a College …'

‘She works for the Vatican?'

‘No, not that sort of College, Collegio Principe, an academic institute. When I got to Paris I met with a nun at the convent who sent me to a lawyer, M. Joubert. All clear so far?'

‘Go on, Mr Costello, I'll ask if I have questions.'

‘Right, because this is where it all becomes very unclear and the questions start for me as well as you. My room in this hotel gets turned over by experts. Very neat job but I spot it. I decide to leave. I get a taxi from across the road and head for the airport but the taxi gets stopped by your lot and we meet at the airport where you deliver your message. When I get back to Rome my boss, Professor McBride, gets gunned down by somebody who knew what they were doing, silencer, motorbike, the whole works. But she lived, she lost an arm, and is in intensive care, but she lived. Next thing I hear is that Joubert has been mugged, put in hospital for a couple of days, and has dropped the case. Now that is what I would have called in my days as a police detective a set of connected circumstances indicating criminal activity, perhaps involving police corruption.'

The last couple of words juiced up Jimmy's visitor considerably. He had guessed it would.

‘Are you making some sort of accusation, Mr Costello?'

‘Oh yes. I'm saying that there must be a connection between the attempted murder of Professor McBride, the criminal assault on Joubert, and the instructions you were given to see that I left Paris. Unless you can explain that connection I'd say that at the very least there is a criminal conspiracy between the perpetrators of the crimes and someone high up in your police. That's my accusation.' He paused for a second, then went on. ‘But I'm making it to you, privately, in this hotel room, not to anyone else and not in any way that it might go public.'

Jimmy waited. He'd chosen his words carefully, now it was for his visitor to think and make a decision. It was still a tricky call. Jimmy had hung out his message through airport security in the hope it would find its way to this man, the policeman who kicked him out. He also hoped that Paris was no different to how London used to be, that the police and those who worked closely with the police looked after their own. It seemed they did because now the man was in his room.

So far so good. But now he had to wait and see if this copper wanted to know why he was back. He needed him to be interested enough to want more, but not frightened enough to do anything silly, like have him killed. He wanted to bring him alongside. But would he come, or would he decide that Jimmy was too much of a risk? He needed to find a way into this thing and it only opened from the inside. He needed to acquire a friend for his side of the ledger, a friend who was part of that inside.

So he waited to see which way his visitor would jump.

Chapter Nineteen

Parker and Henry International had a suite of offices on the thirty-first floor of the Tower Initiale. From the windows you got a view of the other, bigger, more modern skyscrapers that had sprouted up all over the district known as La Défense, the financial heart of Paris which, unlike London's City, beat in its western suburbs.

Nadine Heppert met him at the elevator. From a distance she looked in her early twenties, but close up you realised that a considerable part of that illusion was the way she was turned out. But the special effects were justified because even Jimmy, who was no expert on women's fashion or beauty, could see she was something a little special.

‘Good morning, Mr Costello, thank you for coming.'

Her English was excellent but with a background accent that didn't sound French. Dutch? Belgian?

‘Thank you for fitting me in so quickly.'

She led the way down a corridor to her office. They went in and sat down.

‘I fitted you in, Mr Costello, because if your time, like mine, is valuable I don't want either of us to waste it.'

‘Waste it?'

‘Yes. You were asked to find the legal heir to the estate of Mme Colmar, were you not?'

‘Yes.'

‘That will no longer be necessary.'

‘You firing me?'

‘No. How could I do that? We never hired you. Any charges or fees you wish to claim for your services must be made to M. Joubert's office or to the Sisters of Bon Secours, whichever you feel is your employer in the matter.'

‘So how come you're telling me I'm surplus to requirements?'

‘Because we are handling the matter now and we have found the heirs to Mme Colmar's estate.'

‘Heirs?'

‘Yes, two brothers, the sons of Mme Colmar's daughter. She married a musician named Henry Budge when she was sixteen, they had two children, boys. There are no other known members of Mme Colmar's family and, as the brothers' parents are both dead, they are the nearest living relatives. We shall be processing a claim to the estate on their behalf. So you see, your services, though they are excellent I am sure, are no longer required in this matter.'

‘Are they black?'

‘Really, Mr Costello, their ethnicity is hardly any …'

‘The musician Colmar's daughter ran off with was black.' She tried, and failed, to keep the surprise out of her face. So, thought Jimmy, not so perfect after all. ‘Was this Henry Budge, who you say was supposed to be their father, black?'

‘There is no supposed about it. Mme Colmar's daughter married Henry Louis Budge in the Baptist church in Choquette, Fern County, Florida in February 1951. They moved to Chicago in 1953 and the boys were born there in 1956 and 1958 at the city hospital. The papers are all in order, I assure you. We have been very thorough.'

‘I congratulate you, and considering you've only just taken over the case from M. Joubert, I'd say your success borders on the miraculous.'

‘Our head office in New York located the brothers. M. Joubert was acting for the sisters here in Paris. We were acting for parties in the United States. The two lines of enquiry crossed only recently.'

It was crap, of course, and badly cobbled together, but that was good. It meant it had been done in a hurry which meant they weren't expecting him and didn't yet know how to deal with him.

‘I'm afraid I'll have to see the brothers for myself, maybe ask them a few questions, and see all the papers of course.'

She took it well, nothing in the face or voice this time. Her story might be lousy but she wasn't.

‘I'm sorry, I cannot see that you are entitled to any of what you propose and I cannot agree to it.'

‘You mentioned papers relating to the marriage and the births but you never mentioned death certificates for the parents or any will that either of them might have left.'

‘There were no wills.'

‘No wills?'

‘That is not at all uncommon.'

‘No, I suppose not. What about the death certificates?'

She'd let him push her as far as she was going to.

‘I'm afraid I'm not prepared to go any further, Mr Costello. As I said, I presume you value your time and don't want it wasted. I assure you that pursuing the matter further would prove a complete waste of both time and effort. I had hoped to be of some assistance to you by providing you as promptly as possible with the information I have given, but if you decide to continue I must make it clear in the strongest possible terms that we intend to progress our clients' claim and you must not expect any co-operation from this office in whatever inquiries you choose to make.' She stood up. She was dismissing him. ‘Good day, Mr Costello.'

Jimmy stayed seated.

‘What if I told you I had also found an heir to the estate?'

She sat down slowly.

‘I would doubt it very much.'

‘Very much, eh? I wonder why?'

She knew she'd made a mistake and he could see she didn't like it. He could also see she blamed him for having provoked it. Now she was more guarded. Perhaps now she took him a little more seriously.

‘As I said, our New York office took considerable time to locate our clients and establish that they had a supportable claim. As I understand it you arrived in Paris only recently?'

This woman wanted to know about him as much as he wanted to know about her so he decided to do a little fishing.

‘When I arrived in Paris doesn't mean that's when I started looking. New York isn't the only place that's been acting for parties other than the sisters and your American clients aren't the only ones keen to get their hands on the Colmar estate, which , by the way, I would say is a more accurate description of both our efforts.' He waited and let her play with the bait but she didn't seem to want as to bite so he jiggled it about. ‘And I have to say I think we have more confidence in our claimant than you seem to have in yours.' He tried to put on an accommodating smile. He couldn't do it well and he knew it. That was why he did it. ‘If you make an official request, disclosing who it is you are acting for and your instructions in this matter, we would be happy to make a full disclosure of our client's claim.'

She bit.

‘And who is this supposed claimant?'

Now he had to see how far he could play her.

Jimmy shook his head.

‘Sorry. I can't tell you anything about it without permission from my boss.'

‘Your boss?'

‘Yes, my boss.'

‘And your boss is?'

‘Sorry. I can't tell you that without permission from my boss.'

She was fighting hard but Jimmy could see she was hooked.

‘Oh really, Mr Costello. I asked you here with the best of intentions and you make absurd demands, then you invent this claimant and hide your lack of substance behind some fictional boss. On your own admission you were acting for the Sisters of Bon Secours and your only other contact was M. Joubert who, because of a regrettable accident, has now withdrawn from the matter. Do you really expect me to believe in some shadowy organisation which has an heir to the Colmar estate tucked away somewhere. Why, it took us over …'

And she stopped.

He'd landed her.

‘Yes? You were going to say?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Oh no, surely not nothing. You were going to say how long it had taken you to find your boys and I got the impression it took some time.' She remained silent. ‘Weren't you?' Still silence. But he had her. She'd made a slip, a bad one, and she knew it. ‘I tell you what. Let me see these brothers and ask them a few questions. You or anyone you like can be present. If you do that I'll give you the name, date, and place of birth for our contender. That's as far as I can go at the moment. If, after I've seen your boys, I think we might be able to do further business together I'll get in touch with my boss and see what I can do.'

She thought about it.

‘That depends.'

‘On what?'

‘This person whom you call your boss. What is his interest in this matter?'

‘Sorry. I can't …'

‘Tell me anything about that without his permission?'

‘That's right.'

‘Do you have a contact number?'

‘For my boss? Really, I don't think …'

But she wasn't in the mood for any jokes.

‘For yourself.'

‘Hotel Français, opposite the Gare de l'Est.'

‘A mobile?'

‘No, sorry, I don't use one.'

‘I see.'

She stood up again but this time it was a polite invitation to leave not the order of the boot.

‘Good day, Mr Costello. I will see what I can do, if anything. When I am in a position to do so I will get in touch to let you know one way or the other. Will that be satisfactory?'

Jimmy stood up and smiled.

‘Sorry. I can't tell you that without …'

But she didn't see any funny side.

‘Good day, Mr Costello.'

Jimmy left the office. Once outside the building Jimmy took out his mobile and made a call.

‘Can we meet? I have something for you. There's a bar I know.' Jimmy described the location of the bar where he'd sat and looked at the rain on the morning of his arrival and meeting with the old nun. ‘Fine. I'll be there as soon as I can.'

Back on the top floor Nadine Heppert was also making a phone call. She was speaking in German.

‘No it didn't go well. It went damn badly. This guy is going to be trouble. Well that's your problem so you'll have to deal with it any way you can. What do you want me to do? My advice? My advice would be to let him see the brothers and ask his questions. If nothing else it gives us time, time for you to decide how you're going to deal with him. My further advice would be that you get your homework done properly from now on. I was told he was a nobody who would fade as soon as things looked like getting tough for him. Well he didn't fade and I don't rate him as a nobody so I suggest you find out who the fuck he really is. I think it would be a help, a real help, if I knew a little something about the guy seeing as now I have to be the one stalling him, don't you? OK. I'll set up the meeting for a couple of days' time.'

She put down the phone.

This wasn't going to plan any more and she had developed a bad feeling about it. She would have to think about that. Yes, indeed, she would have to think about that very carefully. She picked up the phone again and told the switchboard to get her the head office in New York.

The meeting with her visitor had gone badly and she needed to take it out on someone. Why not New York? Why not the stupid bastard who hadn't bothered to check what colour Thèrése Colmar's musician husband was?

A voice came on the line and Nadine Heppert got ready to give someone hell, perfect hell.