The Orphan's Tale (10 page)

"
Yes, Mme. de Clichy," he said quietly. "I do. My name is Paul Malet. I spoke yesterday with Charles de Saint-Légère, who lives here. I will be handling a matter that he brought to my attention. I can't go into it in any great detail, but I believe he has discussed it with you." His gaze was very direct.

"H
e has, indeed.  He hasn't confided in anyone else." She added, "I assure you that you can trust my discretion in this and other matters."

"
So I have been told by several people including your cousin, Christien L'Eveque," Malet said. "For various reasons, all of them urgent, it will be necessary for me to live here while I pursue this matter. In view of all that he has told me, I thought to hire a room here for, say, three weeks at the least. Will that be possible?"

Elise had heard of Chief Inspector Malet over the years, but she had expected a man quite different from the one who faced her, someone a little more coarse, with more swagger.
This man was undeniably a gentleman. His accent interested her as well: he was not a native Parisian. The final 'E', usually silent, was lightly voiced. It was a regional trait from the south of France. She found it charming.

He was waiting for an answer: she tallied her guests and consulted a mental map of the inn.

He misunderstood her hesitation. "I can provide references if you need them, Madame," he said. "Inspector L'Eveque has been acquainted with me these seven years."

She did not have to consider.
"Christien has spoken of you with admiration and affection, M. Malet," she said. "And so I don't think that will be necessary in your case. I might start requesting them in future, however."

"
It's no trouble," he said with a touch of insistence that she found amusing.

"
But not necessary," she repeated, favoring him with her best smile and reflecting on the relative stubbornness of the Police as a group.

They traded looks for half a minute, and then he shrugged.
"As you wish," he said, "But you can never tell who might be a murderer or a thief."

She began to chuckle.
"Pardon my speaking so, M'sieur," she said, "But while I thank you for the lecture, it is unnecessary. And as for any danger from you: it's obvious to me at least that murdering me or robbing me is the farthest thing from your mind. Yes, I know you're armed, but so am I." She took out her pocket pistol and showed it to him.

Inspector Malet watched her with amused approval.
"Ah," he said. "A 'ladies' special'. I see you keep it primed. May I see it?" He held out his hand. It was well tended, with strong, shapely fingers.

She handed the gun over to him.

He examined it closely and finished by looking down the barrel. "Rifled?" he said. "Hm. And I can tell it's seen some use. Here-" he gave it back to her and added, "You're wise to carry another as a back-up, but I'd suggest a better hiding place than your pocket: how about under your apron, or up your sleeve?"

"
How did you know?" she demanded as she replaced the pistol in her pocket.

Malet shrugged.
"You notice these things after a while," he said. "Now: if you have no objection to letting the rooms to me, we can discuss payment."

"
If it's official Police business, I can be reimbursed by the Departement," Elise said.

Inspector Malet shook his head.
"The Departement takes its own sweet time in matters of reimbursement, as I know to my cost," he said. "I will pay you myself, obtain a receipt, and submit it with my report when it's finished. They'll move a little more swiftly for me than for you, I think."

"
As you like, but it's no inconvenience," Elise said as she went to the door and then stood aside as he opened it for her. "Would you like to look over the available rooms?" she asked.

"I
f I may.  If they overlook the street, so much the better."

Elise paused and considered.
"M. de Saint-Légère's rooms do," she said. "The guest rooms face out over the courtyard: they're quieter that way. The people who actually live here-myself, M. de Saint-Légère, Mlle. Franchotte, who is also an owner-you met her, sir-Claude and Alcide, our two men, and the other servants-have rooms overlooking the street. The courtyard is pretty at this time of year. You would enjoy the view."

Chief Inspector Malet was frowning thoughtfully.
"The view is not a prime consideration at the moment," he said.

"
You could take M. de Saint-Légère's rooms while he's away at the Bois de Boulogne," she said. "I am sure he wouldn't mind."

Malet's eyes suddenly narrowed.
He said, "Let me see them." He paused, remembered his manners, and added, "Please." For a moment he sounded a little like a contrite schoolboy, an odd effect for a man of his height.

Elise chuckled again and said,
"This way, then, M'sieur," and started down the hall. He moved very quietly; she had to look behind her to see if he was following.

CHIEF INSPECTOR MALET ENGAGES A ROOM

"
Good God! Is there something wrong with putting all one's books and papers in the same place?" Malet demanded, scowling around at the room. They were in the small parlor adjoining Charles' bedroom. "And shoes, too! How many pairs does he have?"

"
He's an unmarried man.  You must make allowances."

Inspector Malet snorted.
"By that token, then, I should start flinging my shoes and papers about!" he said. He stepped over a pile of outdated newspapers as he went to the window. He paused to stare at the pile. "How fortunate that he doesn't smoke!" he commented. "This place is a firetrap! Is he saving these for some reason?"

Elise did not think an answer was required.
It was just as well, since she was having trouble restraining her laughter. She busied herself with gathering Charles' papers and setting them to one side.

He snorted again and turned his attention to the street.
"Excellent," he said. "I will take this room. Can you have your men move Saint-Légère's belongings into another? The clothespress shouldn't be hard to manage. I will pay for the hire of two rooms."

Elise caught sight of Charles' pipe across the room and started toward it, hoping to hide it before Malet's eyes lit on it.
"That won't be necessary," she said.

Malet was still looking out the window.
"Yes, it will," he said. His tone admitted no argument, and Elise admitted the justice of the suggestion.

"
Very well," she said. "I will let you. We'll get things ready for you: when will you move in?"

Inspector Malet turned back from the window.
"Tonight, I think," he said after some thought. "That is, if it's quite convenient. The matter is urgent."

Elise's way to the pipe was blocked by a pile of books.
She tried to step around them and bit off a cry as they began to teeter.

Malet saw this and went toward them with the obvious intent of moving them aside for her.
"That'll give me time to settle matters with my housekeeper," he said, adroitly managing to avoid knocking anything over with his sword. "If you need me before then, you can send to the Prefecture. I will be there for the next several weeks."

He skirted the pile of newspapers and was brought up short by the sight of the pipe and matches.

His brows drove together as he lifted the pipe between his thumb and forefinger. "Good God!" he said. "He does smoke! Why hasn't this inn gone up in flames?"

"
Well, M'sieur," Elise said, "he may not be the neatest man who ever lived, but he's careful. I have had no complaints about him in the year he's lived here. I wish my other guests were as considerate. But I promise that this will all be cleaned up before you arrive tonight."

She gently took the pipe from Malet's fingers and smothered another chuckle at his expression.
He was obviously not used to having things whisked out of his hands.

He submitted with fairly good grace, however, merely lifting an eyebrow and watching as she set the pipe in her pocket.
"Is it quite cold?" he asked. "I'd hate to have that set off your pistol."

Elise succumbed to her laughter at last.
"It's fine," she said. "I will write up a receipt for the two rooms now-by the way, we have a small room that's barely more than a closet, and I will move M. de Saint-Légère's belongings there. It's not as expensive as a regular bedroom-five sous a day-and that should save the city some money."

"
Very good," Malet said. He took two folded, sealed documents from the inner pocket of his jacket and handed them to her. "Here are two items for you," he said. "The first-" he tapped it, "-is a directive from the acting Prefect of Police commanding that Junior Inspector Paul de Colbert be stationed at the Rose d'Or pending further notice-"

"
De Colbert?" Elise repeated.

"
At your service," Malet said with the hint of a bow. "The presence of a Chief Inspector at your inn is almost certain to cause comment, especially since the one in question is filling in for the Prefect at the moment. De Colbert is a family name of sorts-" his mouth tilted oddly for a moment, "-and I have used it before on assignments requiring some measure of secrecy. It's possible that someone might interest himself in my presence here and try to read the orders. I will sign in as Paul de Colbert when I arrive." He added, "The second is an authorization for me to lodge here and be reimbursed for my expenses."

Elise opened the two documents and scanned them.
"Don't you think the person who might try to read these will be piqued by the fact that the handwriting of the acting Prefect matches that of this Junior Inspector de Colbert?" she asked.

"
He might," Malet agreed with sudden, almost startled, respect. "That's why the order was written out and signed by the chief archivist of the Police, and not by me. Do you find them in order?"

"
Of course I do," Elise replied. "I am happy to be of service. And I do believe you will enjoy your stay here. I know M. de Saint-Légère did, at least until recently." She hesitated, then said, "I am certain that M. de Saint-Légère mentioned Constant Dracquet-"

Malet grew very still.

Elise continued without looking up. "I do know something of the-the matter that brings you here," she said. "And I am familiar with the man's reputation. Christien has confided in me from time to time. M. Dracquet doesn't live far from here, and his men have recently made it their practice to come here for drinks or food. Do you wish for me to keep track of their names and activities while they are here?"

Malet considered for a moment.
"Yes, he said at last. "But don't be obvious. In fact, if it becomes too difficult, I would prefer that you do not."

"
Very well," she said, and turned the talk to his projected stay. When arrangements had been made to their mutual satisfaction they descended to the public rooms and drank a glass of lemonade, which Elise insisted on providing 'on the house'.

Chief Inspector Malet departed after about a half hour, most likely heading back toward the Prefecture.
Elise saw him to the door, wished him a pleasant afternoon, and softly closed the door behind him.

She turned to find Yvette watching her, round
-eyed and nervous.

"
Well?" said Yvette.

"
Well?" Elise repeated.

"
Was he unpleasant?" Yvette asked.

Elise considered.
"Not at all," she said. "He's a gentleman. A handsome and charming one, in fact, and quite harmless, at least toward us."

"I
don't know..." Yvette said. "He had a sword."

"
He's an officer of the Police," Elise said, pouring herself another glass of lemonade and motioning Yvette to sit down. "Of course he wears a sword. And he will be staying with us on the orders of the Prefect, so you may as well learn to enjoy his company."

**  **  **

Inspector Malet paused in the stableyard and looked around at the Rose d'Or as he pulled on his gloves. He nodded to himself after a moment. The inn would do very well, indeed, and far better than he had hoped. It was a fine establishment, and the two owners certainly appeared to be ladies of character and quality, though the tall blonde one who had squeaked and stared at his sword was a little too skittish for his taste.

He had not expected squalor, certainly, but the size and quality of the inn had been a pleasant surprise, as well as the perception and intelligence of its senior proprietress.
He would enjoy his stay there.

He looked around at the neat, well
-tended houses with flowerboxes at the windows. Very nice, indeed! His eyes moved from the faces of the passers-by to the beds of late roses along the street and the window-boxes of the inn. He loved flowers-the garden in his house in the Marais was celebrated for its beauty-and he liked roses, especially the deep, almost wine-colored ones. If he had been at his own house he would have picked one for the bud vase on his desk. Since these were not his, he left them alone.