Clandestine (30 page)

It must be. ‘Go with him, Hermann. Let me find that priest.'

And circulate.

The
salaud!
thought Bolduc. ‘Father Richaux no more needs to talk to you than yourself to him. He didn't know either of the victims nor even the families. He's a priest on call for such occasions. Jacqueline found him for me.'

‘Jacqueline … Ah, Mademoiselle … ?' asked Louis.

‘Lemaire, and yourself, Inspector?'

Hair: light auburn; forehead: average; eyes: brown, space: medium; age: 32, height: 1.7 metres; weight: 50 kilos; clothing, apart from diamonds: designer mourning suit from none other than Paul Poiret, cost on the
marché noir,
a minimum of 12,000 francs. ‘It's Chief Inspector, and this is Detektiv Inspektor Kohler of the Kripo.'

‘The one with the slash …'

She would impulsively yank off a glove, thought Jacqueline, to let a forefinger trace what the SS had given this one early last December, leaving everyone else who was anyone, to speak of it ever since, and he with his two women being held hostage at Gestapo Boemelburg's villa by none other than Kriminalrat Heinrich Ludin. ‘The truth and nothing but it, eh? Hector, we shall have to be careful.'

Bolduc could sure pick them, felt Kohler. Clothed, as in the belle epoque of this place's decor, she'd be like that reproduction on the wall of Tissot's gorgeously seductive painting,
L'Ambitieuse
. Heady, just like that one, her fine hair swept up and back in defiance of the usual styles of the present day to reveal two of Cartier's
blanc exceptionel
drops to match the much larger brilliant at her throat even when in mourning, and what a throat it was.

‘Hector, darling, let me leave you with the chief inspector for a little while I show this other one around.'

An open-air café or dance hall, in the old style of a
guinguette
, there were two parts to the restaurant on the Île de Reuilly in the Bois de Vincennes's Lac Daumesnil, felt Kohler. An inner room, still with the gaslights, was surrounded with end-to-end tables, place settings and Thonet bentwood chairs for eighty at least.

But beyond that room, equally spacious and with perfect views of the lake, the forest and a glimpse of the zoological garden with its six hundred animals and seven hundred birds, native and otherwise, was a latticed porch with climbing grapevines offering shade and temptation, and thoughts of the jungle.

One table had been set out here.

‘Hector would have had us sit with the others, himself right in the centre, for he can be of them when he feels it necessary, but Yvonne, not appreciating my presence, felt this more appropriate.'

‘Mademoiselle,' asked the waiter, ‘the Moët et Chandon, the Taittinger or the Mumm?'

All three had been laid out on the tray, the glasses already filled and grouped accordingly, the hospice for the blind having been short-changed. ‘The first, I think,' said Kohler.

‘And an excellent choice,' said Jacqueline, he having chosen the very same as had been found broken open when Grégoire had gone to check the contents of that van. ‘Now, please, while we have this moment of privacy, tell me everything you can about these terrible murders. Otherwise I will have nothing to say to others, and you know what that must mean to a girl like me.'

She was even wearing Guerlain's Eau de Cologne Impérial just like Yvonne Rouget would and had when Louis and he had broken into Bolduc's office to find out all they could. ‘First tell me what you do?'

How did he even know she did
anything
other than please Hector? ‘Me?' She would toss her head and give him an impish smile. ‘An escort service.
Jour ou soir
, it's all the same. An entertaining, fully satisfying and most memorable visit. La tour Eiffel, the galleries, the Louvre and Catacombs, museums too, then a dinner or luncheon in nothing but the finest of restaurants.'

‘The Folies-Bergère, Noctambule, Lido, Moulin Rouge or Shéhérazde?'

With bare breasts and bare bums. ‘Those, too, if requested.'

‘And breakfast?'

How mischievous of him. ‘If necessary, since clients are seldom here for more than a few days.'

‘Satisfaction guaranteed?'

‘It goes without saying.'

‘Any new ones of late?'

Zut,
he
would
ask! ‘There are always new ones.'

‘Business good?'

Why had he to fire such questions at her? ‘Business is seldom what one desires, but has been immensely gratifying. If one works hard and is known for what one does, one is sought, isn't that so? But me, I accept only clients of distinction.
Bien sûr
, my girls fulfil what the clients want. The experience, it is positive, you understand, or the fee, less expenses, is returned. I've two shifts of twenty at present and rotate them every two weeks.'

‘Ages?'

Was he zeroing in on someone? ‘Eighteen, twenty, twenty-four or -six, even thirty. It depends. Sophisticated, of course. Knowledgeable and not just of Paris. Fluent in Deutsch—that is essential.'

‘Fee?'

Why, again, must he ask such a thing and so quickly? ‘It varies: 4,000 to 6,000 for an afternoon or evening, and whatever is necessary is placed on top of that.'

With the bed, couch, chair or carpet underneath. ‘Students?'

Ah merde
. ‘Sometimes but it depends more on their willingness to … shall we say, forget their studies and be accommodating. For instance, a student of the violin at the conservatory must set aside her love of the classical to genuinely appreciate and enjoy the latest jazz.'

‘And dancing in a place such as this?'

‘If necessary. Why not?'

His shrug could well have been that of the uncaring, but then he said, ‘
Ach
, you must know.'

Running a finger lightly down his sleeve, she would move in a little closer to gaze raptly up at him as if a girl wanting nothing else. ‘Because it's illegal? As are many things, yet still they happen and most people don't even seem to mind. Now, please,' she tapped his chest as one of his two women might, ‘a little refreshment and some sustenance. At least a
croquette ou canapé.
Surely those are not out of the question, or does duty prevent you from enjoying yourself?'

The hot, or the hot and the cold. ‘Not at all when there's shaved ham from Reims and smoked sausage from Champagne or Brie de Meaux and lots else like sardines, but you still haven't given me the names of your latest clients?'

Damn him for his persistence! ‘My secretary will have those. Perhaps you could drop by the office later? Here, let me give you my card. It has the address and telephone number. Call ahead, and I'll be sure to be there to answer fully whatever it is that you need and we can offer. Now tell me, please, about these terrible murders.'

There was only one way to let her know he wasn't yet done with her. ‘Let's take a stroll and leave that partner of mine to sort things out here.' And grabbing a bottle of the Moët in case refills were needed, he took her by the arm.

Oeufs durs mayonnaise
were among the hors d'oeuvres. Tempting, oh for sure, felt St-Cyr, but because of the Occupation's shortages some of the younger children had never seen an egg before. Terse explanations were being given. Bolduc had already said his piece to the assembled, as had Grégoire. Both were solicitously going from table to table offering condolences before rejoining Yvonne Rouget and himself.

‘While I have you at my elbow, mademoiselle, be so good as to tell me why, if the illegal contents of that van were to have been sent over to the Hôpital des Quinze-Vingts, is there not only some of the champagne here, but the
vin rouge, vin blanc de blanc
, ham, cheese, eggs, flour for the
canapés
and
croquettes
, the smoked sausage, sardines, too, and even the truffles? And please don't tell me René Deniard was doing such an illegal thing simply to please his mother. We've already had that from your boss, and even Deniard's younger children knew what an egg was before they got here.'

Must this Sûreté be so impossible? ‘Since a reception was called for, where else was I to have found such things? There's little enough as it is.'

‘For the hospice of the blind, as suggested by your employer.'

‘He
didn't
tell me that!'

‘
Ah bon
, perhaps he forgot, as he did that van's being so overdue, but where, please, is Madame Bolduc and your two nieces: Didi, wasn't it, and Yvonne?'

Did he forget nothing? ‘The girls are at school, my sister at home.'

‘Hence Mademoiselle Jacqueline Lemaire. A beauty,
n'est-ce pas
? Trouble, too?'

‘And to
what
are you referring without any possible evidence?'

Damage control having momentarily lapsed, she was all too aware of this but still distracted probably because of the absence of that very one. ‘Me? I'm only searching for answers as to why she had to find him a priest.'

‘The Church … The Bishop, he is …'
Ah merde alors!

He would say it as if from the pulpit. ‘Being difficult since Madame Bolduc consistently gives plenty and refuses absolutely to allow the divorce to go through uncontested.'

She would toss the hand of inconsequence at such a thing. ‘Divorce has never been easy.'

He would give her a moment, then tell her how it was, since it had been done to stop the disgruntled and/or unfaithful wives of prisoners of war, or those prisoners themselves, from seeking such. ‘And under our Government in Vichy, forbidden as of 21 September 1940 unless, of course, the Maréchal Pétain, his advisors in Vichy, and the Bishop agree.'

Must he? ‘Oh for sure the Sûreté, they have never been pleasant, but with yourself, you compound it!'

‘Fortunately you didn't need to worry about such a formality, since your husband “sleeps in his coffin.”'

Touché, the
salaud
! ‘
Excusez-moi
. I must find Jacqueline.'

Before she says something she shouldn't.

To Yvonne who was now standing at the end of the dock, there was but dismay, felt Jacqueline, to Herr Kohler at the oars, the grin of the urchin he must once have been.

‘Wave,' he said, ‘then she'll know we'll be heading back in a few minutes or an hour if necessary.'

‘You wouldn't!'

Anger made her even more attractive. ‘I will, so start by telling me why that lover of yours felt those two
Diamantenbonzen
from Berlin needed to be escorted around the sights and probably free of charge?'

For whatever information could be pried out of them, but had it been a lucky guess? ‘I've no idea who you mean. How could I?'

‘That's precisely my thought, but if your escorts are, why that would indicate you know far more than you want to let on.'

‘I don't. Hector never tells me anything, nor does that one!'

Yvonne Rouget. ‘Aren't Hauptmann Reineck and Leutnant Heiss overseeing that bank of his?'

And flying with him early on Thursday to the Côte d'Argent and Côte Sud des Landes for a little pot-shooting and to deliver the bank's gift of a brand-new flying boat. ‘They are, but what have they to do with the other two?'

‘Since buying and fixing up cars at that garage of his to sell in the Reich shouldn't matter? If one is in the know, isn't the other, and since when would those overseers and the owner of a bank not be interested in diamonds?'

And that
Sonderkommando
whose roadblock to the east of Reims had led to the murders. ‘All right, I did offer to see that Ulrich Frensel and Johannes Uhl were shown the sights, but that really only started yesterday. It's to be for a few days.'

‘Since they're waiting around for those diamonds to be found.'

The black ones that Josef Meyerhof and others must have hidden in Paris, but Herr Kohler wouldn't tell her who it was that
Kommando
were after. Indeed, though he might now have a name, not an alias, and even a photo, he might still be just rowing about in his own little lake, searching for answers.

Kohler knew he couldn't jeopardize Anna-Marie by asking, but as sure as this one was facing him, she'd had an eye on that girl if only as a potential hostess. Nor could he ask about those vans of Bolduc's ferrying PPF and
Miliciens
and others past the controls while smuggling stuff into Paris.

He's at a loss for words, felt Jacqueline, and letting a hand trail in the water, playfully flicked some at him, since it was her turn to smile.

‘Maybe I should tell you what those two were up to before they were shot.'

Turning the boat, deliberately taking his time, he began to slowly head for the dock, she to finally say, ‘Well, tell me. Don't just keep me waiting.'

Still he didn't say a thing. He just looked and
looked
at her in that way of his as he rested the oars until, in anger, she heard herself blurting, ‘Damn you, were they chasing that girl? Is that why Deniard was hit on the forehead with a rock?'

It was Yvonne who caught the painter and tied the boat up, Yvonne who said, ‘We mustn't keep Chairman Bolduc waiting.'

Notebook open, pen to its side, Louis was sitting at that table on the porch, having tucked into the hors d'oeuvres and facing Bolduc and Georges-Arthur Grégoire who was looking far from calm. Thin, greying, wise no doubt in keeping track of the bank's vans and what they were up to, this operations manager waited for more questions, hands clasped, elbows on the table, a sure sign that he expected nothing but trouble.

‘Ah, Hermann, things are not as bad as thought. Mademoiselle, did you enjoy your little voyage?'