Rough Trade (27 page)

The Crime Squad inspectors were waiting for Daquin and Attali outside the hospital in Mantes.

‘A rather alarming corpse, as you’ll see.’

They entered the small room where the forensic surgeon worked, with its white tiling, metal trolleys, phials, scalpels and the mingled smells of decomposition and disinfectant.

The doctor straightened up. Daquin and Attali came close. Attali exclaimed with shock. It was certainly her, but she was
unrecognizable
. The beautiful face was not only white and swollen,
decomposed
through its time in the water, it was also frozen in a
near-unbearable
grimace of suffering, the eyes rolled back, the mouth wide open, the features deformed, the neck twisted in a desperate attempt to escape. From what? A glance at the body. The flesh was lacerated, split open, rotting, from the chest to the knees. The breasts had gone, there was only a yawning white wound.

Attali went out, swaying dizzily.

Daquin turned to the doctor, who threw a sheet over the body.

‘Would you be able to give me some information about her death now, or must I wait for the report?’

‘I can tell you two or three things. Death took place about two weeks ago, difficult to be more precise for the moment. The victim died before being thrown into the water, perhaps even much
earlier
. Death was caused by the lacerations you’ve seen, possibly whip strokes. She was tied down by the wrists and ankles, whipped to death, raped by two different men while she was still alive. Then the body was placed in a wickerwork trunk immediately after death and thrown into the water later. There are pleasanter ways of dying.’

‘Thank you, doctor.’

Daquin rejoined the Crime Squad inspectors and Attali who were walking up and down outside the hospital.

‘It’s her, there’s no doubt about that.’

‘The face seemed to match the missing person notice. According to the doctor her age and the date of disappearance apparently matched too, so we called you. Do we transfer the papers to you?’

*

Police station in Mantes. Small office. The two inspectors gave Daquin and Attali the report on the discovery of the body. A bargee who was tying up at a factory quay in Mantes saw that he’d left a rope trailing in the water. He pulled it up and found a large
wickerwork
trunk, in a rather damaged state, attached to it. He hauled it up on deck, forced it open and found the body. He fainted and his wife telephoned the police station. The bargee’s name, his
statement
, how to contact him, the description of the body in the trunk, everything was there. Let’s go and see the trunk.

In the police station basement, Daquin suddenly came to a halt. I know that trunk. The pattern of the wickerwork, the leather corners, the brass clasp, even though half torn off. It was the trunk that had been in Anna Beric’s bedroom … Administrative formalities, then Daquin and Attali loaded the trunk into the boot of their car and returned to Paris. Attali, who was driving, didn’t utter a word.

‘What’s got into you?’

‘I think I was beginning to understand that girl. She wanted to get away from her family, who were stifling her, and from bastards like Sobesky and Romero who only thought of stroking her bottom. She wanted to be someone different, somewhere else. And I wasn’t good enough. That tortured face, what a horrible sight! It’ll haunt me for a long time.’

‘Find the killer, that’ll help you forget.’

Attali literally exploded.

‘
Commissaire
, what a lousy thing to say! I’ve tried to do that by all methods, with all my conviction. I’ve questioned people, I’ve
listened
. I don’t think I’ve neglected anything. And no result,
nothing
, nothing, nothing. I can’t do anything.’

‘Calm down, Attali, I think I’ve got an idea.’

Attali gave him a sceptical look and put his foot down hard on the accelerator. They were going at nearly 180 kilometres an hour.

‘Slow down. I’m scared in cars, and I’m expected home this evening. Does my idea interest you or not?’

‘Of course it does.’

Daquin settled back into his seat and tried not to look at the speedometer.

‘All the statements we’ve got from the mannequins and the Thai girls, all say the same thing. Kashguri’s a voyeur. I know from one of the mannequins through a private conversation, that he
organized
rather unusual sessions in his apartment. The girls were tied down by their ankles and wrists, flagellated then fucked or raped – I don’t know what term the law might prefer – by his menservants, while he masturbated close by. The girls were not killed: they were taken back to their homes with a load of money and so far none of them have made a complaint. That seems to be rather like what happened to VL. But she died from it. Two possibly hypotheses. VL took part in one of the special soirées, it went wrong. Kashguri got rid of the corpse. Or else Kashguri had good reasons for liquidating VL. Perhaps she tried to blackmail him with the video cassette from the Club Simon, or else she represented a danger for the
network
because the police were closing in on it. Or other reasons that we don’t even suspect. The fact remains that he had her killed while providing himself with a little sexual pleasure on the way. There’s no hard evidence to support all that, I agree. But perhaps you could see the people again who met VL on the morning of her disappearance and try to see if we can’t find a trace of Kashguri somewhere close to her. Sometimes it’s easier to locate two people rather than one.’

‘Chief,’ said Attali, a few kilometres farther on, ‘Mantes is on the way to Rouen.’

‘That’s certainly true.’

‘In the Seine, in a barge, the same sort of thing.’

‘But she didn’t die from a bullet through the heart.’

The Superintendent in charge of the case heard the report by his two inspectors without a word. Then he passed over to them a despatch from Agence France Presse. They read it in silence and then gave it to Romero.

‘Now,’ the Superintendent went on, ‘we shall quietly explore the Armenian trail.’

Romero was surprised.

‘Do you think the communiqué is genuine?’

‘Perhaps it isn’t. But the embassy have locked us out, that’s
obvious
. This business involves only Turks who are all members of the embassy staff. And we’re not being asked to clean things up for them.’

Romero was hovering about in the apartment that his cousin had lent him. A very small three-room place behind Père Lachaise. Lace covers over the television set, lace mats on the tables … He had a date with Yildiz. A last look round, everything was ready, the
aperitifs
, the dinner … The bell rang, he opened the door. Yildiz, her hair held back simply with a slide. A plain cotton dress, with long sleeves, turquoise blue. White sandals. Once again he felt a stab in the stomach. He kissed her hand. She stopped in the hall. Nervous.

‘Where is your cousin? She’d told me …’ A pause.

‘Do you really think I would make a crude pass at you?’ Sudden recollection of VL at the foot of a dark staircase … Soon gone. Be careful, a difficult evening to manage, no interference from the
outside
. ‘You’ve hurt me.’

‘No, of course I don’t think that.’

She still hesitated, put down her handbag, went into the
sitting-room
and sat down on the sofa.

‘Well then?’

‘First, what will you drink?’

‘Vodka with orange.’

Romero took a whisky, sat down in an armchair on the other side of the table, smiled at her. She drank a mouthful, still looking anxious.

‘What do you want, Romeo?’

‘To talk to you in peace. Things have been happening … And I think I may be under surveillance by the embassy. So, no public places. I don’t want to compromise you.’

‘Answer me honestly. Am I, in some way or another, responsible for Sener’s death?’ She looked anguished.

‘Certainly not.’

‘I should have told the ambassador about our conversation.’

‘Definitely not.’

‘Did you kill him?’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘You were in the Champs-Elysées.’

‘I was following him.’

‘Yes.’ She was not convinced.

It was the right moment. Don’t play the scene wrong.

‘I’ll tell you what I think about Sener’s murder. I certainly owe you that. First, I’m not a member of the Fraud Squad. I belong to an anti-drug unit …’

Yildiz, her eyes lowered, finished her drink. He refilled her glass.

‘We’ve been working for nearly three months in the Paris area. And we’ve found practically nothing, apart from a few small
dealers
. But on the way we’ve come across the networks. I won’t
mention
prostitution. And in the ready-to-wear business, in the Sentier.’ At this point, described Berican, Paulette and Sener in detail. A brilliant account. Yildiz laughed, she was moved. ‘That’s where you come in, Yildiz, and you helped me to follow Sener.’

‘You still haven’t explained to me who killed him, and why.’

‘I’m not at all sure. But we think the Berican workroom isn’t an isolated case. There’s probably a much wider network in which Sener was the kingpin. His associates liquidated him before we could interview him.’

‘All over selling a few clothes?’

‘But it all adds up to a lot of money.’ Yildiz looked sceptical.

‘And I need you for something else.’

‘Why?’ She was on her guard.

‘The embassy is concealing all the leads, to prevent a possible scandal. But two people know a lot about it, and they are Dogan Carim and Tahar Bodrum, who were with Sener in the
Champs-Elysées
. We think they were on their way to a business
appointment
linked to the dealing in the Sentier. We interviewed them but got nowhere.’

‘They’re attached to the embassy.’

‘We suspected it. And that’s why I need you. Who are those two men? Where were they living until yesterday? Who are their friends and acquaintances? Only you can supply me with a starting point from where I can go forward. Without you I’m stuck, I’ve come to a halt.’

‘I feel remorse, Romeo. I feel I acted wrongly. And it came to a bad end.’

‘I beg you to believe me, you didn’t act wrongly. Sener was
always
on the fiddle, all for money, and he was liquidated by his own buddies. Yildiz, help me.’

Silence. Yildiz stared fixedly at her glass and twiddled it round in her fingers.

‘I’ll do what I can, Romeo. Tomorrow.’

Romero stood up. Went towards the kitchen. Came back with a bouquet of red roses, knelt at Yildiz’ feet and placed the bouquet on her knees.

‘Yildiz, will you marry me?’

She was astonished.

*

When the cousin came back at midnight, as arranged, she found all the lights on, the dinner untouched in the kitchen. Romero and Yildiz, fast asleep, in her bed. The auburn hair spread out over the pillows and Romero buried beneath it.

Daquin was making coffee.

‘Well, Romero, where have you got to?’

‘Nothing very positive. The embassy’s blocking everything to do with our investigation, and they’re not bothering to be discreet about it. Because of that the Crime Squad drops it and pretends to believe in the attack by the Armenians. My contact at the embassy will bring me nothing.’ He paused. Bright image of Yildiz’ breasts, pale ringed nipples and endless freckles. ‘I think she’s been playing a double game from the start. She gave me a few clues while the ambassador was hoping we were going to get rid of Sener quietly for him. Now the scandal threatens to be too big and so it’s blackout.’

‘And you didn’t take any risks with her?’

‘No, none.’ A moment’s hesitation. ‘Still, that depends on what you call risk. I’ve asked her to marry me.’ Daquin waited for the follow-up. ‘And if she accepts, I’ll go through with it.’

‘When it’s all over, will you explain it to me?’

‘When it’s all over, I’ll introduce her to you. To come back to what I’m doing, I think the only way to go further is with Paulette or Martens.’

‘Paulette has committed suicide. She hanged herself at her home yesterday afternoon. Thomas wasn’t there and didn’t come back all night. He found her this morning when he returned.’

Once again Romero had to take in bad news. Why was this story so moving? Daquin went on: ‘There remains Martens. You can go and interrogate him if you’re sure he’s not in the network. Otherwise it’s too dangerous.’

‘In my opinion he’s not. Moreira doesn’t know him directly, his clients are very varied. He has his own business. Sener was the only member of the network whom he knew.’

‘Well, let’s play it like that. Your two acolytes in Drugs, Marinoni and Rimbot, will do the interview, which the three of you will prepare together. Try to sort it by the end of the day.’