Sandman (27 page)

Shit! ‘What things?'

‘She … she did not say, monsieur!
Please
, you must believe mé!'

‘Élène, why did you not come to me with this?' demanded Madame Therrien only to be stilled by an upraised forefinger.

Kohler gave them a moment, then sighed as if the life had suddenly gone from him, and said quite simply, ‘So Madame Vernet made arrangements not for herself but for Liline Chambert?'

The girl shut her eyes and hastily crossed herself, begging God's forgiveness. ‘Yes. That … that is how it must have been. The abortion for Liline, monsieur.
Liline!
'

She broke down and the others tried to comfort her as he left the room on the run to call up the main staircase for his partner and then to go into an urgent huddle with him that could not be heard in the kitchens.

‘Louis, Madame Vernet went to see Violette to arrange the abortion. Debauve was probably present to lay down the rules. Fifty thousand francs …'

‘Two hundred thousand at least, but why risk going to Violette and Debauve, who would be certain to ask for more whenever they felt like it?'

He had a point.

‘Why, indeed, Hermann, unless Madame Vernet knew they would never come back at her.'

‘No blackmail, then, because she could blackmail them. Ah
Gott im Himmel
, Louis, does that woman know who the Sandman is?'

Debauve.

A sickening thought. ‘If she does and she has used it also in this matter, only God can answer for her.'

Had she made certain Liline Chambert would die, had she tried to have her niece killed?

‘House arrest,' breathed Kohler sadly. ‘Nothing official. I'll say it's for the family's protection from the press. I'll ring von Schaumburg and ask him to arrange it. She isn't to leave until we tell her to. I'll also ask for two of the grey mice to sit with her at all times. They're not to let her out of their sight.'

The grey mice, the Blitzmädel from the Reich. Stenographers and telegraphists. ‘Vernet might object.'

‘He won't, not if we tell him what we think is true.'

‘He may have answers of his own to give.'

‘Then we'll let him have his say and hold the rest in reserve. We'll keep the two of them apart for as long as possible.'

‘He'll hate her.'

‘She must hate him.'

The armchairs were big and deep and white and draped with white, crocheted throws. The floor was white, the walls were white, the ceiling, too, but there was gold in gilded frames and trumeaux whose mirrors tossed things back and forth, laying down detail upon detail. The plaster bust was of a seer who did not judge; the Grecian torso was of a naked young man who would remain headless, faceless and armless now forever.

St-Cyr sucked in a breath and released it slowly. ‘In an instant Mademoiselle Chambert comes to us, Hermann. This room is not only filled with her but with the tragedy she had to face.'

When Vernet found them, the first thing he saw was that they were sitting in those chairs, the next, leaning against the ivory candelabrum among its draped strands of clear glass beads, a 20-by-20-centimetre black-and-white photographic print of Liline in that other room, the tenement on the quai du Président Paul Doumer.

‘Inspectors, what is the meaning of this? Have you no sense of decency? How dare you force me to meet you here?'

Caught in the mirrors, the image of him—quite perfectly dressed in a blue serge business suit and tie, ah yes—bounced back and forth across the room, incensed.

‘Please sit over there by the windows, monsieur,' said the Sûreté, indicating a chair. ‘Light streams in, leaving few shadows. It will be better for us.'

‘Where is Nénette? Why haven't you found her? Just
what
do you think you're playing at?'

They did not answer. They sat in those armchairs and all they did was wait for him to be seated where told.

He closed the door behind him. He was tall and not unhandsome. He was far more wealthy and powerful than anyone Liline Chambert could ever have aspired to had she been of that mind. But he was vulnerable and knew it.

Still, there was no harm in trying. ‘I demand an all-out search for my niece The Wehrmacht have tracking dogs. Let them use them.'

‘But … but those are very vicious animals, monsieur,' said Louis, aghast.

Irritably Vernet passed smoothing fingers across his brow. ‘They'll be kept on the leash. Don't be an idiot!'

Kohler had to tell him. ‘All the same, monsieur, the child will be terrified.'

‘And is she not already terrified enough? Is it that you want this … this Sandman to silence her?
Is it?
' he demanded.

His voice had not quite risen to a shout, but the agitation it implied would have to suffice for this simple suggestion to be made: ‘Perhaps if we allow them to release the dogs, they will corner him for us, Hermann,' said St-Cyr.

Kohler tossed his head in doubt and shrugged. ‘Perhaps but then there's Julien Rébé to think of, and we wouldn't want his throat torn out before he sings.'

Ah, damn them, damn them! Furiously Vernet tossed a hand. ‘Look, I know nothing of this Rébé. Who is he?'

The truth at last, was it? ‘A stableboy, monsieur,' said the Sûreté. ‘Your wife's lover. The father of her unborn child.'

‘Her
what?
'

‘We told you to sit down,' offered Kohler. ‘We were only trying to be kind.'

‘The slut! I'll kill her.'

‘Ah, no, monsieur,' cautioned the Sûreté. ‘You will assist us in every possible way so that the scandals of her sordid affair and of your own here in this room, and with a girl under your care whose parents trusted you, can be hushed up as much as possible.'

Was it music to his ears? wondered Kohler.

No sigh escaped Vernet. He refused to sit down but forced himself to consider Liline's last moment and to softly swear, ‘Things should never have come to this. What do you want of me?'

A touch of sadness, one of remorse perhaps—yes, yes, that would be welcome, but the industrialist had decided to fight back and would most definitely attempt to extricate himself. ‘Everything, but only the truth,' said St-Cyr, not taking his eyes from Vernet. ‘The time for lies and half-lies is over.'

They would push until they were satisfied but what, then, would they do? ‘Very well, begin.'

Could bankruptcy have affected him more? wondered Kohler and thought it unlikely. The threat of a scandal and of ridicule still stood foremost in his mind. Or had Vernet been up to even more mischief?

Reluctantly the industrialist sat in the chair by the windows and right away realized why they had put him there. The rare sunshine of Paris in winter gave plenty of light. Though he couldn't see it, that damned dog of Bernadette's would still be hanging out there behind the house above a blood-spattered circle in the snow.

They had to break him, these two
flics
from opposite sides of this war. It would not be easy—they did not have much time and must find Nénette before it was too late. How deeply would they cut? he wondered. St-Cyr was still studying him; Kohler was debating whether to light a cigarette in a room where everything was pristine and there were no ashtrays but that of his own hand.

‘Did you force your attentions on Liline Chambert?' asked the Sûreté swiftly.

‘You raped her, didn't you, and in this room,' sighed Kohler. ‘When … when did it first happen, eh, monsieur? Soon after she arrived to take up her studies—was it then?'

‘Was it after that first attack that she had the room done over?' asked Louis.

‘Look, we had an understanding, that is all.'

‘She refused you,' breathed Kohler. ‘She “tempted” you, eh? You're a man of position and power. You're used to having your way.'

‘An understanding, is that what you called it?' asked Louis.

‘All right, I had to have her. She was everything that wife of mine was not. Can you imagine what it's been like living with that woman? My father couldn't stand her. He warned me. He … Look, I didn't mean to …'

‘To say that?' asked Kohler. ‘Hey, he refused to leave the business to you and chose instead your brother who was much younger, “a brilliant designer”, you said, and also well married.'

Bâtards!
he wanted to shriek at them but said levelly, ‘Father thought Bernadette corrupt. He felt that once I had passed on, she would sell everything and get out.'

End of family, end of name. ‘So a flat was needed,' sighed Louis, drawing them right back to the matter at hand.

‘Liline struck her own bargain. She would let me choose the location and arrange for the flat but would decide on the one to live in it. We would not come together here but only there. It was far too awkward, she said.'

‘Too damned dangerous, you mean,' snorted Kohler. ‘A wise girl, but not clever enough, since the boy she chose would never have slept with her, and that wife of yours found this out.'

‘
What's Bernadette done?
' he hissed, his voice harsh and breaking at last.

Kohler let Louis handle things.

‘Please, monsieur, a moment, yes? and I will tell you how it must have been so that we understand each other. You forced that girl into an affair she did not want but was afraid to refuse for fear of disgracing her family and losing her father his job with your firm. Don't pretend otherwise. This room of hers was designed to reflect it. Like all good art, it speaks from a soul in torment striving to reach out and touch the hearts and minds of others. She became pregnant, and you told her this was what you wished for more than anything. After the divorce, the marriage—with money, friends and power, even divorces can be arranged and quickly. But she was astute enough to realize Nénette, whom she adored and who trusted her implicitly, was the rightful heiress. So, what was to become of Nénette, please, once you and Liline were married and the child you had given her had been born?'

It had been a good attempt, he'd have to give the Sûreté that. ‘Nénette would continue to live with us and inherit everything when she came of age. If she married, her husband would then take over and administer the estate. That's the law.'

Kohler found he couldn't sit still. A fidgeter always, he got up to move around, took out his cigarettes and lighted one. ‘But Mademoiselle Chambert was not so certain Nénette would inherit a thing, eh? She feared you would put the child on a train to nowhere.'

One must remain unruffled by such insolence, ‘I beg to differ, Inspector. I thought of doing no such thing.'

Ah
mon Dieu, mon Dieu
, he was tough. ‘Then why, please, in her desperation did Mademoiselle Chambert turn to the one person she could trust the least?' asked Louis.

‘Your wife,' sighed Kohler, flicking ash. ‘The girl panicked. She knew
exactly
what you'd do to your niece.'

‘When confronted by Madame, Mademoiselle Chambert told her the truth and begged for help,' said Louis.

‘Help she got!' swore Kohler, crossing to the candelabrum to rattle its strands of beads as he snatched up the police photograph.

Thrusting it into Vernet's hands, he said, ‘Look at it, you smug son of a bitch, and start talking or we'll see you in hell.'

‘You will never be able to prove a thing.'

‘Monsieur, we will prove everything,' said Louis sadly. ‘We have a habit of doing so no matter who is involved or how powerful.'

‘You're hated by the SS of the avenue Foch. Even Gestapo Boemelburg, who depends on you to combat common crime, says your days are numbered. I have only to turn to either of them.'

‘Then do so and accept the scandal of your wife's affair,' snapped Kohler, trembling a little.

‘Tell me what you want.'

‘The Sandman,' said Louis so gently it was but a breath. ‘Only you can help us. That wife of yours refuses.'

‘Then ask her in and I will get her to confess.'

All along the corridor there were panic-thoughts of running, but where could she go?
Where?
wondered Bernadette Vernet. The detectives with Antoine were waiting for her in that room of Liline's, that room where so much had gone on. All the years of bitterness would erupt. She would throw herself at him, would try to tear his eyes out, eyes that had mocked her, defied her, passed over her to another and another. He had done it in this house … this house that was rightfully hers, not Nénette's. Things would be shouted. Things no one else must ever hear. Her rage, her pent-up jealousy, the sly and wicked rejoicing of her fornicating with a boy from the gutters just to get back at him, the triumph at last that it had been settled … all settled, only to find that a stupid, stupid mistake had been made.

She came to the door and tried to stop herself. Her bare toes dug into the carpet. What are they thinking? she demanded, her heart racing. That she could not see herself cast out on the street in favour of another and one so young? That the Vernet wealth would no longer be hers and that she had had to stop it from happening, that she could not let him
marry
that little bitch!