Kaleidoscope (31 page)

Kohler was frantic. ‘Listen, by not telling me, we give that one what he wants. He'll get it in the end. His kind invariably do.'

‘I know nothing.'

He snorted harshly. ‘You idiots! Madame Buemondi was the banker; your account in Britain, the wellspring of hope. What'd Delphane do, mademoiselle? Get you to find him the cash he needed to get those poor bugger-damned airmen of his out of France?'

Dear Jesus help her. ‘I cannot say. I must not answer.'

Stubborn to the last, she faced the lights and would not look at him. ‘Then let them tear it out of you!' he shouted, releasing her arm and pushing her down the steps. ‘Go. Go, you slut, and remember the blood of my partner is on your hands!'

She stumbled and cried out to him, and at last she faced him and Kohler let her have it. ‘God damn you, mademoiselle. Delphane will have killed that daughter of yours just as he murdered that one in the mud!'

‘My daughter …?'

‘You know it's true and you know there's only one of them.'

‘But … but that is not true, monsieur. Me, I have no daughters. I never married. Anne-Marie did.'

‘Then why did you agree to use your bank account in England?'

‘Because Anne-Marie wanted me to. Because she needed the cash.'

There was no sound. They awakened to the crowd which had not pressed closer but remained intent.

‘Jean-Paul,' she gasped. ‘Jean-Paul …'

Delphane had joined Munk and now faced them both as judge and executioner.

They were in the graveyard, and though there was sufficient light beyond the dark shadows of the tombstones, the girl with the crossbow still had the advantage. But were there not two girls – both Josianne-Michèle and her sister? Two female voices had called out to each other. ‘Josianne, he's over here …' ‘Josette, watch out behind you!'

Jean-Paul Delphane's tall silhouette had been between the two voices but had vanished. A brief scuffle, a sharp cry and the sound of one of them dragging in a breath as she darted away had been followed by a hush into which the falling snow had finally made intrusion as its crystals had melted on the face.

‘Josianne …? Josianne, are you all right?'

‘
Ssh
! He's still here.'

And then later, a sigh among limestone crosses and marble statues of the Virgin with hands clasped in prayer. ‘He's gone now, Josianne. Now only the detective remains.' Slight differences of inflection and tone set the voices apart. Josette's was a little stronger, a little deeper; Josianne's more excitable and more intense also.

‘Josette, I love you. For me it is such an immense relief to have you come home to see me. I'm so happy now.'

And from the sister, ‘Josianne, have you still got the crossbow and its quiver of arrows?'

‘Uncle Jean-Paul, he has not been able to take it from me this time, Josette. Me, I have made certain of this.'

‘Good. He had a photograph taken of me in Paris, Josianne. This I could not understand but now fear he has given it to the Gestapo.'

‘Yes, yes, he will have done such a thing. Didn't Viviane tell you what he had asked of her?'

Chamonix … had it been in the villa near there?

‘Viv has not written to me for some time. Not since she became so very afraid of what was happening. Are there really maquis in the hills, Josianne? Please, the Inspector St-Cyr, he will want to know of this. It is very important to him.'

‘Alain says the hills, they are empty, that it is now too cold in the mountains.'

‘Are you in love with him?'

‘Josette, I've longed to tell you about it. Josette, I've lain in his arms beneath the stars and he has filled my soul and my body with rapture.'

There was a pause and then, ‘Me, I wish I had such a lover. Someone to banish the terrible loneliness of the big city, but now I am afraid I will never experience such a thing. Paris, it was not good for me, Josianne. I failed miserably at everything I tried so hard to do.'

‘You should have come home. Mother should have let you.'

‘Yes, yes, she should have let me.'

Chamonix … the weaver …? puzzled St-Cyr, desperately trying to clutch at the windblown chaff of a fragmented memory.

‘Were you very jealous of me?' asked Josianne-Michèle coyly.

‘At your having such a lover? Ah no, my sister. Envious, perhaps, and happy for you who have suffered so much.'

Ah damn, were the sisters at each other's throats?

‘Josette, our father forced himself upon me time and again. Please, it is so very difficult for me to tell you this, but the Inspector, he should hear it from myself.'

‘And Alain … what does Alain say about it?' asked Josette suspiciously.

Pride entered. ‘Alain, he says that it does not make any difference to him, but me, I was so ashamed and so afraid, it took forever for me to let him touch me.'

Now bitterness and jealousy intruded. ‘You were always Alain's favourite, Josianne. Me, I could never get him to do the things I asked of him. He must be very kind to you,
petite
. He must still be the very gentle and sensitive person I knew.'

The epileptic betrayed anger. ‘Ludo wants us to get married; Madame Anne-Marie would not allow it. She refused absolutely to give us her blessing.'

There had been tears in that last little bit.
Ah Nom de Dieu
…

‘Are you with child – is it Alain's?' hazarded the sister.

‘Yes.'

St-Cyr found the place where the two of them had stood among a cluster of statuary beside the ruins of a broken wall. Crouching, he ran his hands lightly over the frozen clods of earth that lay beneath their dusting of snow.

Josianne-Michèle Buemondi had been in Chamonix with Viviane Darnot. Jean-Paul Delphane had gone to the clinic to find the weaver after the shot had been fired.

But the weaver had been in the villa just before the financier had been killed. St-Cyr knew he had seen her in that mirror. He had looked up suddenly to the floor above them, had been momentarily distracted …

‘
Viviane …? Viviane, are you there? Mother, why won't you answer me? Mother, please! I think I'm going to kill myself
.'

The girl had been suicidal, and Viviane Darnot had intervened and taken her to Chamonix for treatment. But the voice he had heard just before being hit on the back of the head had not been that of Josianne-Michèle. It had been Josette-Louise who had called out, ‘Mother, please! I think I'm going to kill myself.'

The screech of tyres and throb of engines pelted them out of the heart of the city and up the boulevard Carnot towards Le Cannet and the villa. Jammed into a back seat and held at gunpoint, Kohler managed to touch the weaver's hand. He felt her fingers close about his own and wanted to tell her he'd do everything he could to save her.

Forbidden to talk, she watched through tear-filled eyes as they raced past darkened streets, and he held her fingers a little tighter and tried to tell her again.

She could not stop herself from trembling. In image after image, Kohler knew she would see herself being thrown to the floor. Dazed and bleeding, she would try to get up, try to speak out but Jean-Paul Delphane, that bastard would have her by the hair. He would drag her up and rip the dress from her. Shivering uncontrollably, she would clutch her bare shoulders. The brassiere would be torn from her and then the underpants. Reeling from a blow, she would stumble and fall and try to get away. Blood would burst from her battered lips, a breast would be savagely kicked. No breath, no breath … In agony, her mouth would keep opening and closing until she had passed out. ‘Answers! he shrieked. ‘We must have
answers
, Viviane! It is necessary for you to give them.'

Kohler shook his head to clear it. The bastard hadn't shrieked. He'd said it quietly, was arrogant and cock-sure of himself because that was the only way he could bluff it out.

Viviane Darnot saw that Jean-Paul had turned to look at her. The streets flashed past. The headlamps flung their beams across a row of empty shops. They caught puzzled onlookers frozen in their tracks, gaping and too stunned by panic to move.

‘I will not give them the answers you want, Jean-Paul. Josette means everything to me.'

The one from Bayonne leaned over the back of the seat to trace a finger under her chin. In revulsion, she jerked her head away and swore, ‘Don't touch me! Don't you ever touch me again.'

‘Just give them the answers they must hear.'

‘I have nothing to say.'

‘Then I will let them have Josette, Viviane. Josette was in on it too. There is proof enough.'

‘Your daughter? Your own flesh and blood? Have you become so heartless, you would sacrifice her to save yourself?'

Lunging over the seat, he struck her twice and then again. She shrieked and tried to get away. Kohler struggled to help her.

Lights were flung over the Villa of the Golden Oracle as they raced up to it and slammed on the brakes. ‘Out!' shrieked Delphane. ‘Get out and see what becomes of you.'

‘Je … Je …' She tried to say his name.

Leaning forward, Kohler breathed, ‘You've forgotten something, my fine. St-Cyr has it in for you and so have I.'

Delphane tossed an indifferent hand. ‘Pah! What are you both to me? Nothing but vermin that need to be stamped on!'

‘But rats in trouble always go around in circles inside the bottom of the barrel, my friend, and two of them will eat a third if left alone long enough. The Abwehr had your number, right? So you went over to Gestapo Cannes, but Munk's no fool. He wants us to sort you out.'

‘Then me, I will drop the tom-cat into the barrel and let them see what happens!'

‘You do that, but remember the barrel gets filled with water, and cats can't swim as well as rats.'

They were hustled into the villa and up the stairs at a run. Viviane Darnot saw the doors to the bedrooms flashing past, some open, others not … A porcelain vase was accidentally knocked over, then some glassware …

Spinning, stumbling, falling drunkenly, she was thrown into Anne-Marie's bedroom and left to claw herself upright. Retreated hesitantly from them in horror of what they were going to do to her. Held the back of a hand to her broken lips.

‘Now talk,' said Munk quietly. ‘You were helping your lover to get escaped prisoners of war out of France, mademoiselle. You are a British citizen and have a bank account in England on which you wrote numerous cheques. In return, money was handed over to you and you gave this to Madame Buemondi to finance your activities. Behind that painting is a wall safe. You are to open it.'

There was nothing in his eyes, no thought of compassion, and she knew then that he would let Jean-Paul beat her to death, knew the others would all stand around and watch.

Vomit rose in her throat and she gagged on it. Even Herr Kohler would be powerless to help her.

‘Don't say a thing, mademoiselle,' said Kohler grimly. ‘Let me tell him.'

It was Munk who said, ‘Very well. Proceed.' In dismay, Kohler realized the bastard had used the weaver to trap him into talking.

‘Hadn't you best remove the painting?' he asked.

‘It's Gestapo Leader Munk, Herr Kohler. You will address me properly.'

Kohler nodded. ‘The painting,' he said. ‘Let's see what's in the safe.'

A ramrod in a black uniform yanked the painting away and threw it aside, ‘It's open,' he said in German. ‘Empty, Gestapo Leader. The safe is empty.'

Savagely Munk swung his black leather gloves. Stung by the blow, the weaver reeled into Kohler. Blinded by her tears, she fought for some sort of sense and shrilled, ‘
Empty? Empty?
This I cannot believe!'

As she looked into the safe, Kohler held her. Every nerve and muscle in her body quivered. Quickly she turned aside. ‘A chair,' he seethed. ‘
Gott im Himmel
, let the woman sit down!'

Delphane swung a chair across the carpet. Someone brought a lamp and they made her look up into it but this she could not do without help, so one of them simply seized her by the hair and yanked her head back.

‘Now talk, Herr Kohler,' said Munk. ‘Already your sympathies are in question. The Sturmbannführer Boemelburg has left the matter entirely in my hands so do not look to Paris Central for help.'

Kohler could barely control the outrage he felt. He wanted so much to say, Hey, listen, my fine, I'm a detective and we're dealing with a murder, but he knew that was of little consequence in the scheme of things. ‘Perhaps, Gestapo Leader, it is the Inspector from the Deuxième Bureau who should talk. Unless I've missed something, that safe should have been crammed with bundles of francs, and that was exactly what Mademoiselle Darnot expected. So if she expected to find it loaded, and this one told you it was, then ask him where the cash is.'

Delphane glanced questioningly at the safe and then at the weaver. ‘The money, Viviane …?' he said.

‘It's gone, Jean-Paul, but Anne-Marie could not have taken it.'

Kohler filled things in. ‘The Buemondi woman was desperate for cash. On the Saturday before she was killed, Madame Buemondi pawned a kaleidoscope in Bayonne. In exchange, she received 35,000 francs.'

‘Which she then passed on to a Basque guide who knows the routes across the Pyrenees into Spain,' offered Delphane. ‘She had a little problem on her hands, isn't that so, Viviane? A dead pilot was in her house, is that not correct, eh?'

‘Easy, my friend. Easy,' cautioned Kohler. ‘The body had been there for a good two or three weeks, maybe more. Abwehr Central knew of it. Colonel Henri gave me the pilot's identity disc. They'd been watching the Inspector here and had their doubts about him.'

‘What doubts?' challenged Delphane. ‘Come, come, my fine Inspector from Gestapo Central, Paris, spill the beans.'

‘It's the lentils I want to spill,' said Kohler but didn't elaborate. ‘Doubts about what you'd been up to in Bayonne, Inspector. Visits to Madame Buemondi's house there.'