Madrigal (34 page)

Taking up the tin of sardines, he asked himself why, if she had known Dedou wasn't to be at the Palais, had she included it? The thing was entirely out of keeping with the rest of her costume, but she must have had a reason. Hope perhaps, that after all, the boy would come. Some reason anyway. Or two, or three, he reminded himself. ‘For that was the way of things. The little games one played in those courtly days, but you weren't playing a game, and neither are my partner and I.'

The dirk, the sewing kit, scissors and keys were there and he had to ask himself, as he had when first encountering her body, why had she not used the dirk to defend herself? There really had been virtually no sign of a struggle. Signs of hide and seek, the hunt, the chase, of course; the prayers on her knees also, and in the
Chambre du cerf
, the Pontiff's study, which had direct access to his bedchamber next door …

‘Ah
nom de Dieu
,' he breathed. ‘That first Mireille must have gone to that same chamber late at night to beg His Eminence Clement the Sixth for mercy.'

Unsettled by the thought, for it implied again that history really was repeating itself, he looked at the belt.

‘You knew which of them would kill you. It's all here in front of me, isn't it? Bishop Rivaille – was it him? Was it Simondi or that one's wife? Was it one of the singers – Genèvieve Ravier perhaps, or her lover, or Marius Spaggiari? Xavier?' he asked. ‘The
Cagoule
?'

High on her left hip she had pinned her own sign, that of the House of Balance in gold, its weighing pans upended as if the hand-held balance had been flung far up into the heavens to hang suspended there for ever. And from its pans had been strewn the cabochons of meaning, the jade and lapis lazuli, moss agate, chrysoprase, amethyst, ruby and malachite – opal, too, and coral and jet. Beautiful things, lovely things, but …

The fleurs-de-lis brooches that had fastened her mantle were next to the coins, as were the fine gold neckchain and two of the three rings she had displayed there, since she couldn't have worn any more of them on her fingers. Rings given in friendship or exchanged perhaps to celebrate some event, for people did that sort of thing during the Renaissance. But had the hair in the bishop's ring really matched that of Adrienne de Langlade? Would it ever be possible to lay the two side by side under a microscope?

Rivaille had recovered the pendant box. He practised flagellation and there was the image of a tiny silver
martinet
on her belt and directly above the sign of the Goat, a Capricorn.

Again, as before, he noticed that the Archer's arrow was pointed at this sign, but beyond the goat there was a moonstone cabochon over which was a cluster of pearls, each in the shape of a teardrop.

She couldn't speak, he couldn't seem to put his mind completely into the framework of her own. Anxiety … the threat of the
Cagoule
… were interfering.

‘The keys,' he said when Hermann came to find him. ‘I've been the world's biggest fool,
mon vieux
. Keys meant far more to those of the Renaissance than they do to us today.'

‘None of those keys would have been a damned bit of use to her, Louis.'

‘But that's just it! Keys could and did signify many other things. That the subject's heart was locked up, that her thoughts and loyalties were true, her faith in God still resolute.'

‘She wanted others to unlock things,' said Kohler softly. ‘She knew she might not survive.'

‘I just wish you had brought along her order book. I'm missing something obvious, Hermann. I know I am. She'd have smiled gently at me or laughed, but then … ah,' he shrugged. ‘She wouldn't have laughed, would she?'

‘The sign of the two fishes is often repeated.'

‘
Merde
, what an idiot I am! The two fishes … The label on the sardine tin. The sign of a Pisces – is this why she had it in her
aumônière
? Not to give to Dedou at all, but to tell us a Pisces had killed her?'

‘Genèvieve Ravier?' muttered Kohler. ‘Hey, the sign of the Virgin, with wheat stalks in hand, is also often repeated.'

‘Idiot, that's not just the Virgin; that's the Gleaner, the winnower of facts!'

Kohler pointed to the
martinet
, Louis said, ‘The Goat, I think.'

The bishop and Adrienne de Langlade. ‘There's a tiny triangle in gold that's formed of letters.'

‘C, A, M, A, E, L,' said Louis, ‘with the C alone and in the upper corner. That is the name those of the Renaissance would have used for the Angel that rules the planet Mars which, in turn, ruled the House of the Scorpion.'

‘Simondi?'

‘Or his wife?'

‘Why not tell me what happened at the mill with de Passe? You scared the hell out of me. You know that, don't you?'

Louis appeared to pay no heed.

‘Her gimmel ring links lapis lazuli with a saffron-yellow topaz, which is one of the stones of the Archer, Hermann. Her gown was of the same shade.'

‘Dédou, then. Now quit keeping me in suspense about the mill.'

‘Inadvertently de Passe confessed to having been present when Adrienne de Langlade was drowned. He had tried to tell me Brother Matthieu was responsible for both killings.'

‘And?' hazarded Kohler.

A hand was tossed at fate, a shrug given. ‘He threatened all sorts of things and shouted, “Do you think we will let you and that partner of yours destroy everything we have worked so hard for?”'

They stood in silence, looking down at the rebus, then Kohler found his voice and said, ‘Where's Peretti, Louis? Why the hell isn't he here with you?'

It would have to be said. ‘Ovid has been sent to Lyon, Hermann. He only had time to give me his report and to release these items into my care. De Passe and the others got to him. He said he was sorry, but …'

Louis shrugged again. It was the way of things these days. Someone was always interfering.

Kohler told him of the telex from Mueller. Longing for a cigarette, he found he had none.

‘Lies upon lies, Hermann,' said Louis, offering one and a light. ‘Always the song they all must sing infuriates the ears of one who once played the euphonium in the police band. But we shall see if, as singing masters to them, we can't improve things.'

Oh-oh. ‘You didn't …'

It had best be said quickly. ‘I told de Passe we would hold an audition in the Palais's Grand Tinel this evening at twenty-two hundred hours. I advised him most strongly to have the singers present as well as the judges and Madame Simondi, though I felt, and still do, that that one would not be “well”.'

‘
Dummkopf! Verdammt
!'

‘Hermann, I really had no other choice. When our prèfet told me to pack up and leave immediately or else we'd be lucky to escape with our lives, I had to give him the only answer I could.'

A purist! ‘What about Frau von Mahler, eh? You're forgetting her.'

‘Not at all. That's why we're going to take these things to her for safe keeping.'

‘Idiot, von Mahler won't let you get within shouting distance of that woman!'

‘Then we shall have to see that he does.'

Darkness had fallen and with it had come a fresh uneasiness Kohler didn't welcome. Across the place de I'Horloge the Kommandantur was just too busy. Though showing a light from any window or door was
verboten
, repeatedly there were glimpses of the entrance. Armed men in uniform came and went. Two sentries guarded the door and oh
bien sûr
those boys had been there earlier, as they were each and every hour of the day, but now he was going to have to pay particular attention to them. ‘Louis, this is crazy. They'll have Schmeissers.'

‘Trust me. It's the only way. Just keep the engine running. I won't be long.'

‘You're an idiot. You know that, don't you? He'll have you shot.'

‘Perhaps but then …
mais alors, mon vieux
, perhaps not.'

Louis was gone from the car before anything further could be said. Still keeping his eyes on the entrance, Kohler reached over the back of the seat to Nino for comfort and felt the dog respond immediately. ‘You were there at the Palais the night she was killed,' he said.

She licked and nuzzled his hand, got all excited. Was he going to let her out of the car? Were they going for a hike?

‘Hey, take it easy. No, stay in the back seat. Stay, Nino.
Stay
!'

The beagle had a mind of her own and found his lap readily enough. Eagerly she licked his face, was all over him. He had completely missed seeing Louis go into the Kommandantur.

‘You know all of them,' he said as he patted her head and scratched behind her ears. ‘You had this around your neck, didn't you?'

At the sound of the
clochette
, bedlam ensued. Nino barked joyously and tried to get out of the car. It took time to calm her down. ‘Who else was there?' he asked. ‘Was it Madame Simondi?'

Nino put her head down on his lap and waited to be punished.

‘Was it Genèvieve?' he asked and felt her lift her head instantly at the sound of that name.

She got up and looked out into the night. When he said the
Primo Soprano's
name again, Nino searched the darkness and barked expectantly.

‘Good for you,' breathed Kohler. ‘Now let's try Mireille. Where's Mireille, Nino?'

The dog returned to his lap and tried to work her muzzle between the buttons and in under his overcoat.

‘You loved her, didn't you?' he said. ‘Almost as much as you did Xavier. He tidied things up, didn't he? He had to. He couldn't have us knowing that sickle came from the props room. Where'd he hide it, eh? Come on, you can tell me.'

*

Seated at his desk, the mayor of Avignon passed unblinking moist brown eyes over the sudden intruder and let him be. But in that one glance was summed up so much. The humiliation of having to work under the Occupier, the outright willingness now to not see things one should even if it meant an assassination and that the intruder could well be a
résistant
, the knowledge, too, that they were both patriots.

Not one of the
Comité secret
or of its
Cagoule
, not anything but an honest, hard-pressed individual in his mid-fifties, the mayor knew very well who it was and went calmly on with his work beneath the portrait photograph of the Maréchal Pétain that graced every such office. Teleprinters hammered beyond the confining walls of the corridor. Telephones rang. Conversations in French and German incessantly bombarded the ears. Something was said about
Banditen
in the hills, something else about the Reich's need for olive oil and other foodstuffs.

Words went on and on about the
Service de Travail Obligatoire
and February's inauguration of the local detachment of Vichy's newest police force, the
Milice
. Strong-arm boys and men whose job it would be, among other things, to fill the labour quotas – 50,000 a month was demanded – with those plucked from the streets, homes, tramcars, buses and cinemas, remembering always that if such were on a bicycle or in a
gazogene-powered
lorry or auto, or merely carrying home a few hard-won staples for an impoverished larder, these items were an added bonus.

Von Mahler was on the telephone. St-Cyr cursed his luck, for all three doors to the office were open and he was certain one of the secretaries in an adjacent anteroom had seen him. Hermann had been right. This was crazy, but desperate situations require desperate solutions.

‘St-Cyr, Sûreté,' he said, softly mouthing the words to the secretary and, putting a hand over hers, pushed the telephone receiver she had been listening in on down until it was back in its cradle. ‘Come with me. Please walk in front. I am, as you can see, armed.'

Louis still hadn't returned; he was taking far too long. ‘
Verdammt
! What the hell has happened to him, Nino? Christ, I need a cigarette!'

The dog licked hands that trembled. She got up to look out into the darkness as he was now constantly doing. She knew he was anxious and wanted to help.

‘You're beautiful,' he said, remembering the souls of dogs long past. ‘Giselle and Oona could take you for walks. They'd love you, too, but it isn't healthy for dogs in Paris these days. Count yourself lucky. The citizens here aren't quite so hungry, not yet.'

But give it time, he said sadly to himself and went to open the door, to follow Louis, to …

The engine idled. His breath, and that of Nino, were causing frost to build up inside the windscreen. He began to scrape this away. He occupied himself, fought for patience, and asked, ‘What really happened in those last few moments before she died? If, as the judges have stated, they left the Palais together, then they left that girl all alone up there in the Grand Tinel. But she wasn't alone – we all know this – and Albert Renaud said he thought he had heard someone in the stairwell when he went to get the chairs.'

Nino put her head down in his lap and felt his hand come to rest, warm and gentle, so gentle.

‘Why
did
Renaud come forth with that little bit of info, Nino, unless trying to plant the thought that blame must surely lie with Madame Simondi?'

Mireille would have gone into the Kitchens Tower next to the Latrines to get her overcoat and things, but she hadn't put the coat on, had she?

‘She'd have had to take one of the candelabra with her unless she had left a torch with her things. But who put out the other candles, and did that person or persons then call out to her, because sure as hell, she must soon have put out her own light.'

Still desperate for a cigarette, he searched the side pockets of the Renault but found only maps. ‘Was it Frau von Mahler who called out a warning to her, Nino? You must have heard it. Xavier had released you by then so that the sound of your
clochette
would lead him to her.'