Last Kiss (22 page)

‘Go on.’

‘Part of the downstairs was set up like a torture chamber. The leather and wooden racks were in constant demand. You didn’t have to take part. As I said, you could be an onlooker. Depending on his mood, Pierre would be a participant or a spectator, but he liked bringing others there to watch. He enjoyed shocking people …
imbécile
.’ Her voice had turned bitter, but then softened: ‘I
didn’t like the sound of the bodies being lashed. The cries, they were
moche
– ugly.’

‘What age were you, Delphine?’ Kate’s voice was gentle.

‘I was nineteen. I was old enough,’ she said sharply, staring at Kate’s plait. ‘I remember there was this fat woman at the bar all the time, dressed up like a schoolgirl. She had her hair in plaits too. She liked her bare buttocks being whipped, the harder the better. Pierre never had any interest in her. He liked his women slim.’

‘Did he have a regular partner at the club?’ Adam stood up, unable to take interviewing on the floor any longer.

‘He often went there alone. Pierre felt more at home with people who were different.’

‘Julien said you dropped out before finishing the year. Why was that?’ Adam moved a step closer to her.

She stared up at him. ‘My mother was unwell. I was needed back in Provence.’

‘And the others?’ Kate asked. ‘The students who left the college after Pierre’s death, do you know why they dropped out?’

‘No. For the most part, they all left after me, except one.’ She pressed out her cigarette butt in the tinfoil ashtray. ‘She was Irish, an exchange student, I think.’

‘Do you remember her name, or why she left?’ Adam didn’t attempt to hide his interest.

‘Yes, I do. It was Sandra. I don’t know her second name. She was an okay artist, but she lacked passion, and was far too meek and nervous. You cannot progress your work unless you’re prepared to take risks and be adventurous.’

‘Do you know why she left?’ Kate repeated Adam’s question.

‘I heard she was homesick. Some girlfriends stayed with her in Paris for a while. One of them was very attractive. Pierre liked her.’ Again, the bitter tone was in her voice.

‘They had a relationship?’ Kate pressed.

‘I can’t be sure, but meek, miserable Sandra didn’t like her friend getting attention from Pierre.’ She smiled. ‘Pierre had given the wallflower a lot of notice before her girlfriends arrived. As I said, he liked people who were different.’

‘Any idea of the girlfriend’s name, the attractive one?’ Adam wasn’t letting go.

Again Delphine shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was a long time ago. I can’t be sure, but it might have been Alice.’

‘And you can’t remember either of their surnames?’ Kate enquired.

‘I’m afraid not. But you should be able to get Sandra’s details from Jacques. She would have been registered at the college.’

‘I don’t remember seeing any statement from a Sandra in the case files. Did you see one, Kate?’

‘When we arrived,’ Kate ignored his question, ‘you said something about this room not being as nice as Julien’s office, that what you see is what you get. What did you mean by that?’

‘Julien Chéry is similar to Pierre. He is an extremely talented man, but he can be different things to different people. I’m sure he didn’t tell you we are lovers – or, at least, we are right now …’ Adam and Kate kept their silence. ‘It is difficult to get a position here at the college. It has a history and a reputation that elevate it. Julien helped me get this placement. I have appreciation for his talent, even if, like Pierre, he has many downsides.’

WHEN I REACH the outskirts of the city, I pull into the car park of a large hardware store only a few kilometres from home. The girl at the cash register doesn’t blink as she scans the two large bolts I intend putting on the inside of the studio door. When I get back into the car, I lock the doors again. I spent the entire time I was in the store looking over my shoulders, making sure no one was following me.

Driving home, I decide to contact Alice. Karen isn’t trustworthy with information, and rightly or wrongly, Lori has already freaked me out. I need to talk to someone other than Edgar. Alice was so solid in Paris when that thing happened to
Pierre. Looking back, I know I did love him. Alice understood how I felt. Karen dismissed it as little more than an infatuation I’d grow out of, and Lori had looked as if she wanted to be the one in love with him.

None of us mentioned him once we got back to Dublin. It was like it had happened to someone else. I know why Lori wanted to avoid the subject: she had helped me forge the application papers. There was no way I could have landed a place at the Beaux-Arts de Paris otherwise. Neither of us thought we would get away with it. I think Lori felt sorry for me, not having had a university education. Lucky for me she was working in the student office at Trinity. She can be full of surprises, and that’s another reason why I need to keep her out of the picture.

Later I call Alice on my mobile. I’m still out of breath, having put the bolts on the studio door and hammered the windows permanently shut, using masonry nails from the garage.

‘It’s me, Sandra.’

‘You sound out of breath.’

‘I am.’

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Something is very wrong …’ I feel better hearing myself say it ‘… but I can’t talk over the phone.’

‘Why not?’

‘I can’t. I need to talk to you face to face.’

‘Where are you?’

‘At the studio.’

‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes – can you come over?’

She doesn’t answer for what seems like an eternity.

‘Alice, are you still there?’

‘I’m still here.’ Another silence. ‘I’m trying to work out a couple of things.’

‘Why? What’s there to think about? I need to talk to you. What’s complicated about it?’

‘Nothing, I guess.’ She sounds cagey.

Maybe I’ve made the wrong decision. I can’t trust her if she’s not on my side. ‘Look, if you don’t want to come over, don’t.’

I’m about to hang up when she says, ‘Sandra, calm down. You know I’ll come over. I’ve always been there for you.’

I let out a sigh of relief. At last I’ll be able to tell someone about the madness that’s been going on, but something strikes me before I hang up. ‘Alice …’

‘What?’

‘Don’t tell anyone you’re coming. Make sure you’re alone.’

She laughs, and I’m not sure if she’s mocking me. Maybe she thinks I’m being over the top. She’s always so bloody calm and composed. ‘I’m serious, Alice.’

When the phone goes dead, I don’t know what to think. I try to ring her back, but her mobile goes straight to voicemail. Perhaps her battery’s flat. I look around the studio. It won’t take her long to get here. I should have told her to tap on the studio windows. That way I’d know it was her. Damn it. She’ll ring the doorbell, and I’ll have to leave the studio to answer it, unsure of who is at the door. I could call out. If anyone other than
Alice answers, I won’t open it. I’ll tell them I’m unwell, to call back another time. I check that I still have the knife in my bag. The message in the diary was clear. I look at it again, reading it for the umpteenth time: BE AFRAID. I have no doubt that whoever wrote those words meant them.

DELPHINE AGER EXCUSED herself before reaching Jacques Guéguen’s rooms, but on the way from Studio Nine, she told Kate and Adam that Jacques lived at the college Monday to Friday, and at weekends he travelled home to his wife and children in Montrouge.

‘What did you think of Delphine?’ Adam asked, once she was out of earshot.

‘I don’t think she’s as confident or as hard as she makes herself out to be.’

‘Interesting about the Irish student.’

‘And surprising the French police never interviewed her.’

‘Perhaps Monsieur Guéguen will shed some light on that.’

‘Delphine said the girl, Sandra, was meek and miserable. That’s a very negative description.’

‘Maybe she was jealous, Kate. I hear women can be.’

‘Jealousy is common in both sexes.’

‘I’ll take your word for it. Shall I do the honours again?’ He knuckled his fist, ready to knock on the door.

‘Off you go. I’m getting used to being your sidekick.’

‘Less of the sarcasm – it doesn’t suit you.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that. Now, stop standing there like an idiot,’ she teased. ‘Knock on the bloody door.’

He did so.

‘
Bonjour, entrez, s’il vous plaît
.’

Jacque Guéguen was close to sixty, shorter and more stooped than his superior, Julien Chéry. Kate liked him instantly. He looked comfortable in his skin, and although his rooms weren’t as richly decorated as Chéry’s office, they had a certain charm. He had a fire lit too, always a welcoming sign.

‘Sit down.’ Jacques gestured to two upholstered chairs by the hearth, pulling another over from the corner for himself. ‘I understand you want to talk to me about Pierre Laurent.’

‘That’s right.’ Adam looked relieved not to be sitting on the floor.

‘A troubled young man, but a talented artist – the whole incident was terrible, such a waste.’

‘According to the police report, Jacques, the police believed the murder to be a crime of passion, yet they never found anyone responsible. That’s surprising, don’t you think?’ Adam
was getting into his stride, Kate mused, putting it up to Jacques Guéguen from the beginning.

‘Very little surprises me, Detective. I’ve learned that life isn’t always simple.’

Kate smiled at him. ‘Delphine Ager told us one of the students who dropped out after Pierre’s death was an Irish girl.’ She thought she detected a nervous twitch in his face, but couldn’t be sure.

‘I believe that’s correct.’

‘Her name was Sandra, an exchange student.’ She wondered why he was being so guarded.

Getting up from his chair, he walked over to the bureau and picked up what looked like a registration book. ‘I thought you might want to look at this. It has the names of all the students that year, with an asterisk beside those who didn’t complete the year.’

Adam took out his notebook, ready to record the names.

‘Inspector Girardot has a copy,’ Jacques murmured, opening the book at the required page.

‘I didn’t see it in the police file,’ Adam retorted.

Jacques handed it to him. ‘The inspector only became aware of it this afternoon. Julien phoned him after your visit. Your interest in the students who dropped out led him to surmise that they might be important to our own investigators.’

‘I see.’ Adam didn’t sound convinced, and neither was Kate.

‘It explains why Sandra was never interviewed.’ Adam was trying to find her name on the list.

‘You won’t find it in there,’ Jacques said, tight-lipped.

‘Why not?’ Adam looked up.

‘Because I removed it.’ He sat down, suddenly seeming a lot older than his years.

‘When – and why?’ Adam sounded puzzled and snappy.

Kate gave him a look that said, ‘Ease up.’ Then she spoke: ‘Jacques, you do understand that tampering with evidence is a very serious matter. Maybe you would like to go back to the beginning and explain. Every detail could be vital at this stage.’ Now she understood why he had been cautious.

‘The college has an impeccable record,’ he sat up straight, ‘but it is not without funding issues from time to time.’ He still seemed uncomfortable, as if he was giving away some sworn secret.

Adam began writing in his notebook, content to let Kate lead the questions.

‘It’s okay, Jacques,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Go on.’

‘Like many institutions, we have an exchange programme for students, but in certain years, like 2005, we opened up a number of paid placements for foreign applicants at the college.’

‘A paid placement?’

‘Yes.’ He swallowed hard. ‘It was one of our most lucrative years.’

Adam kept silent.

‘And Sandra was one of those paying students?’ Kate continued.

‘Like the other successful applicants, she made a non-refundable payment of ten thousand euros at the start of the year.’

‘You had a screening process, I imagine?’ she asked, keeping her tone measured.

‘Yes, of course, although it wasn’t as meticulous as it would normally be. We assessed the student applications based on written submissions without an interview, along with scanned images of their portfolio, character references and details of education. Nothing out of the ordinary. We didn’t want to make it too problematic for applicants, a simple means of entry.’

‘When you say we,’ Adam asked, ‘who do you mean?’

‘At the time, the director of the college was Victor Girard. He and I decided on the selection process.’

‘If Sandra was an applicant, why is her name not in the register?’ Kate probed.

‘It was. At least, it was at one point.’ He took the register back from Adam, pointing out a line marked through with a pen. It was impossible to make out the words underneath. To the side were two sets of initials, JG and VG, with the word
erreur
. ‘It was all somewhat embarrassing.’

‘Why did you strike it out?’ Adam was somewhat stunned by the admission.