Last Kiss (21 page)

‘You asked me about earlier victims. I think her hatred and anger belong elsewhere, a previous influencer in her life. Pierre and Rick might have disappointed her – they may have let her down emotionally. The same would apply to Michele,
provided we connect the case – but the killing is a culmination of loathing, built up over a protracted period. The murders give her temporary relief, but the hate isn’t going anywhere.’

‘A pity there wasn’t anything new in the case files,’ he said, leaning back on the bench, having finished his lunch. He folded his arms tightly to keep in the warmth.

‘No, but we still have the college.’

‘Girardot was insistent they’d exhausted all angles.’

‘Maybe so, but every victim has had some connection with the arts. And the way the killer creates the crime scene, and the visual consequences of the details within it, also point in the direction of the art world.’

‘This Tarot-card business and the master numbers, it adds an extra layer of weirdness to the whole thing, don’t you think?’

‘They’re important to the killer, but I’d be careful about letting them get in the way of holistically looking at the case.’

‘I don’t get you.’

‘We all develop idiosyncrasies. In that regard, people who perform vile acts are no different from so-called normal people.’

His mobile phone bleeped: a text message. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked.

‘Mark Lynch. He says the hotel room in Rome was numbered ninety-three, not a master number.’

‘Rome could be the anomaly. Although there was a fire, arguably similar to the Tower card from the Tarot, the victim shared the room with his wife. Unless he liked to bring his lovers and his wife to the same hotel room, chances are he chose the
room without the influence of the killer. It has other differences too, apart from the lack of a master number.’

‘Maybe the differences exist, Kate, because the wife was present.’

‘The woman being pregnant could have influenced things too.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Whoever our killer is, it’s like she’s trying to escape her past. The opulence of the hotel rooms, her expensive tastes are most likely contradictory to what went before, and by before, I mean her early environment.’

‘So, Kate, we have a highly intelligent, mid-thirties female with an interest in framing her victims. Someone with a tragic beginning, seeking emotional investment, coming from a modest socio-economic background, and who also happens to have an overdose of built-up anger.’

‘She’s also ambitious. It’s unlikely she would remain stagnant. She will have progressed socially, even if that meant using manipulation.’

He checked his mobile phone. ‘It’s a quarter to two. We’d better get a move on if we’re to get our artistic education started.’

They both stood up. Stretching his arms above his head, looking across at the Louvre, he asked, ‘Have you ever been in there?’

‘Yes, but we won’t get to it today, if that’s what you’re considering. You’d need several days for a proper visit.’

‘I was only asking. You can tell me all about it over dinner tonight.’ Then he cupped her elbow in his hand and they
mounted the stone steps together.

Amid the swell of city traffic, the stalls of paintings, souvenirs and Parisian memorabilia on the banks of the Seine, the voices of tourists and locals, another question needled her: was she the only one who saw this Paris visit as having the potential for more?

THE COLLEGE, SITUATED opposite the Louvre in the heart of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, between the dock and the Malaquais, was steeped in history, dating from the seventeenth century, with a campus spread over two hectares. As Kate and Adam approached the front entrance, they saw hundreds of student bicycles leaning again the street railings. It was a walled enclosure, with ornate black double gates and two large stone pillars on either side. Once through the gates, they walked across the enormous cobble-locked square, with multiple archways leading from one Gothic-designed building to another.

Inspector Girardot’s directions were meticulous, and they soon found themselves in a small courtyard with a stone fountain in front of a two-storey aged terracotta building.

Inside, Kate had expected a continuation of the exterior style, but it was modern. They passed a number of studios with open doors, glimpsing multiple canvases leaning against pure white walls. There was a studio with sculptures where some students sat cross-legged with sketch pads in hand. In the last room before the director’s office, there was an enormous abstract canvas, vibrant with colour, in which, Kate thought, the ultramarine dripped like tears.

Adam made a knuckled fist and knocked hard on the panelled door.

‘
Bonjour. Entrez, s’il vous plaît
,’ called a male voice from inside.

‘After you,’ said Adam.

Kate turned the steel handle, pushing the large black ebony door open. ‘
Bonjour
, Professor Chéry. Do you speak English?’

‘
Oui
.’ He stood up to greet them, then gestured them both to chairs. ‘Monsieur O’Connor and Dr Pearson, I assume?’

‘That’s right, Professor,’ said Adam.

‘
Julien, s’il vous plaît
.’ He pulled his swivel chair closer to his desk. Julien Chéry’s office was in stark contrast to the modern design outside. The furniture, Kate mused, wouldn’t have been out of place in the Napoleon rooms at the Louvre. The professor was tall, dressed in a brown cord suit, with a plain shirt and jumper. One side of his white shirt collar stuck out, the other was tucked neatly away. Although he sounded friendly, his face contorted slightly on greeting them with what seemed to Kate a false smile. He was handsome, she reflected, with good bones,
deep-set eyes below his heavy but somewhat tossed eyebrows. He was alert, ready for anything they might ask him.

‘Julien, I understand Inspector Girardot has already briefed you on the reasons behind our visit.’ Adam waited for Kate to sit, before taking his seat on the identical upholstered chair beside her.

‘You are here in connection with the killing of Pierre Laurent.’ Julien placed his outstretched hands on the desk, wriggling his fingers as if he was limbering up to play a musical instrument. ‘You believe it may be linked to a recent murder in your country.’

‘We’re pretty sure it is.’ Adam sat upright in the chair.

‘I fail to see how I can be of help to you.’

‘We’re keen to talk to anyone who knew Pierre.’

‘Inspector Girardot,’ he opened and closed his fists, ‘would have explained to you that Pierre Laurent studied at the college before I became the director.’

‘Yes, but you know all the staff here.’ Adam sat a little forward. ‘We were hoping you would direct us to anyone who might have information.’

‘Indeed.’ The professor paused as if he was trying to work out whether or not he should unleash the detective on his colleagues. ‘I have made some enquiries.’ He looked at Kate, then at Adam. ‘I’ve only two names for you, including Jacques Guéguen, the head of fine arts, which Inspector Girardot already mentioned to you. The other, Delphine Ager, is a former student. She studied here with Pierre, but moved to Provence late 2005.’

‘Was Delphine here during the original investigation?’ Kate asked.

‘I believe she was, but I’m not sure of the dates. Any questions you have, I’m sure Delphine can help you.’ Again that false smile.

‘After the investigation, did everything return to normal at the college?’ Adam locked eyes with the professor.

‘As far as I understand, although there was something … I doubt it has anything to do with your investigation.’

‘Tell us anyhow.’ Adam gave him one of his broad smiles.

Kate didn’t think Professor Chéry looked impressed. He said simply, ‘Jacques can fill you in on the exact details, but after Pierre’s death,’ he glanced at the door as if someone might walk in, ‘a number of students curtailed their studies. It wasn’t many, you understand. In fact, it wasn’t even noted as relevant at the time. But after Inspector Girardot contacted me, I looked into the academic year of 2005/6, examining the year’s statistics and analysis.’

‘And what did they tell you?’ Adam’s interest was aroused.

‘Within the fine art faculty, there was a fifty per cent increase in dropouts, seven to be exact, two males, five females. Normally we would have three or four, but not seven. As I said, it may be nothing.’

‘Did you discuss this with Jacques?’ Kate kept her tone low and unthreatening.

‘Yes,’ he replied, and for a moment she thought this was the only answer he was going to give. Then he sat forward, speaking as if he had prepared his words in advance. ‘Jacques and I are in agreement. There was a lot of distress at the time. Young people are very sensitive to events. It was – how do you say in English? – a spike, nothing more.’

With the professional formalities over with, Adam stood up. ‘I assume Jacques is expecting us?’

Julien Chéry looked at his watch. ‘He won’t finish with his students for another half-hour. I can take you to Delphine while you’re waiting. Her hours are not as intense. She is usually in Studio Nine. It isn’t far.’

‘
Merci
.’ Kate got to her feet. ‘That would be great.’

‘If we have any more questions after we’ve talked to Delphine and Jacques, will you still be here?’ Adam asked.

‘But of course. For the rest of the day.’

‘Good.’

‘Come with me, then.’

Adam and Kate stood back as the professor took enthusiastic strides towards the door, then they followed in his wake.

DELPHINE AGER WAS slim and petite, with short black hair tucked behind her ears. She wore jeans and a loose-fitting white T-shirt with a brown satchel across her shoulders. She had a lean face, and eyes that bounced from Julien Chéry to Adam and Kate while he spoke to her in French. Waiting to be introduced, Kate listened to the fast, low, easy conversation between them: they sounded as if they shared a mutual understanding.

‘So,’ said Chéry, ‘I’ll leave you to talk. Delphine will escort you to Jacques’s room once you are done here.’ Before pulling the studio door closed, he waved, saying dismissively, ‘
Au revoir, Adam et Kate. J’espère que vous avez un séjour agréable à Paris
.’

‘What did he just say?’ Adam looked at Kate.

‘He says he hopes we have a pleasant stay in Paris.’

Delphine waited for her superior to leave, then removed her satchel and took out a packet of cigarettes. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ She was looking at Adam.

‘Go right ahead,’ he replied.

The room was blank, apart from a large covered canvas. ‘Smoking in public buildings,’ she said, lighting her cigarette. ‘It is banned in Ireland, yes?’

‘It is.’ He coughed, caught off guard by the smoke.

‘It is banned here too, but some rooms are an exception, which is why I usually work in Studio Nine. I need my fix.’ She smiled, then took a deep drag, sitting against the studio wall, with her knees bent close to her chest. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘make yourselves comfortable. It may not be as nice as Julien’s office, but at least what you see is what you get.’

Kate knelt beside her on the floor, wondering what she had meant by her last remark. Awkwardly, Adam did the same.

‘I believe you were at the college with Pierre Laurent?’ Kate asked.

‘That is correct. We were students together.’ She removed a small tinfoil ashtray from her satchel.

‘Can you tell us about Pierre?’

Delphine blew a waft of smoke to her right, staring at Kate. ‘I can tell you what I know – that he was a prick but an amazing artist. He had talent running through his veins, and he knew it. Like his good looks, Pierre took these things and others for granted.’

‘It doesn’t sound like the two of you got on.’ Adam looked uncomfortable on the floor, unsure where to put his large feet.

‘On the contrary, even though he was a prick, we got on very well.’

‘Were you lovers?’ Kate had decided the direct approach would work best with Delphine.

‘We had a brief fling. That was the way it was with Pierre, everything in the moment, not to be taken seriously.’

‘He had a lot of female companions?’

‘Kate. It is Kate?’

Kate nodded.

‘This is Paris.’ She wore a wide smirk.

Adam waved his hands to clear the smoke. ‘We want to know about everyone associated with Pierre.’

‘That is a very long list.’

‘And you’re one of only two people we have so far. So, your information is important.’

She nodded, solemn now. ‘Ask me anything you want.’

‘Among his female companions, was there anyone in particular who stood out?’ Adam repositioned himself on the floor, this time leaning against the wall with his legs outstretched in front of him.

‘For Pierre? No. He could have charmed them into thinking he cared, but he was self-centred. He would say whatever a woman wanted to hear.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was a game with him, nothing more.’

‘We hear he had particular fetishes.’ Kate kept eye contact with Delphine, wondering if she was as hard and uncaring as she was trying to appear.

She laughed coldly. ‘He had many desires, yes. He was experimental. Le BDM was one of his favourite places.’

‘Le BDM?’ Kate quizzed.

‘Bar du Monde, at the rue Mazarine. It was a place many of the students went for drinks, but downstairs in the basement was for the experimenters.’

‘It was mentioned in the case files,’ Adam told Kate, then turned back to Delphine. ‘It’s a sex club?’

‘You could call it that.’

‘Is it still there?’ Adam’s voice echoed around the near-empty room.

‘No.’

‘But you went there with Pierre?’ Kate kept her tone soft.

‘Yes, of course. There was a small fee to participate or to watch, but Pierre usually slipped his friends in without too much bother.’

‘Can you describe the place for us, the kind of activity that went on?’

This time she blew the cigarette smoke directly into Kate’s face. ‘Yes.’ She took another drag before she went on, ‘There were usually fifty or sixty people in the club. It was small, so it was easily crowded, a regular dark dungeon … and it was full of desperate people.’ Again she laughed – nervously this time, Kate thought.