The Three Evangelists (17 page)

While he was doing this, the man had put his briefcase on a chair and was looking at the five-franc coin nailed to the post. It was probably because of the coin that Marc broached the subject straightaway.

‘We’re looking for whoever murdered Sophia Siméonidis,’ he said, as if that explained the coin.

‘So am I,’ said the man.

Marc poured out the coffee and they sat down together. So he did know, and he was looking too. He didn’t look upset, so Sophia could not have been a close friend. There must be some other reason. Mathias came in and sat down on the bench, with a nod.

‘Mathias Delamarre,’ Marc introduced him. ‘And I am Marc Vandoosler.’

The man was obliged to follow suit. ‘My name is Christophe Dompierre. I live in Geneva.’

And he offered them a card.

‘It was good of you to find out about Relivaux for me,’ Dompierre went on. ‘So when will he be back?’

‘He’s in Toulon, but the ministry can’t say for certain when he will be home. Some time between tomorrow and Monday. It depends on the job. And we can’t reach him.’

The man shook his head, and bit his lip. ‘That’s a nuisance,’ he said. ‘And you’re enquiring into Madame Siméonidis’ death?’ he asked. ‘You’re surely not … in the police?’

‘No, not at all. But she was our neighbour and we took a great interest in her. We are hoping for a result.’ Marc realised that he was speaking rather formally, and the way Mathias was looking confirmed it.

‘M. Dompierre is doing some looking too,’ he explained.

‘What for?’ asked Mathias.

Dompierre looked at Mathias, whose calm features and limpid blue eyes must have inspired confidence, since he took off his coat and settled more comfortably in his chair. When someone takes a decision, there’s a fraction of a second when their face tells you that they are going to. Marc was very good at spotting that fraction of a second, and thought it was easier than getting a pebble up onto the pavement. Dompierre had just made his decision.

‘You might be able to do me a favour,’ he said. ‘Can you let me know as soon as M. Relivaux gets home. Would that be a nuisance?’

‘No, by no means,’ Marc replied. ‘But what do you want with him? He claims to know nothing about his wife’s murder. The police are keeping an eye on him, but for the time being, there’s nothing serious against him. Do you know something we don’t?’

‘No, no. I was hoping that
he
knows something. Whether his wife had received any visits, that kind of thing.’

‘I don’t quite follow,’ said Marc.

‘That’s because I’m still in the dark myself. I just don’t know. And it’s been that way for fifteen years. The death of Madame Siméonidis has
given me some hope I might find what I’m looking for. Something the police didn’t want to know about at the time.’

‘At the time of what?’

Dompierre shifted on his chair. ‘I can’t tell you that yet,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure of anything. I don’t want to make a mistake, because it would have grave consequences. And I really don’t want the police interfering, is that understood? Absolutely no police. If I find what I’m after, the missing link, I’ll go to them myself. Or rather, I’ll write to them. I don’t want to see them. They caused enough havoc for me and for my mother, fifteen years ago. They wouldn’t listen to us when it all started. It’s true that we had very little to go on. Just a desperate little sliver of belief, a feeling. That doesn’t mean much to the police.’ Dompierre gestured in the air. ‘You probably think I’m being emotional,’ he said, ‘and in any case I’m talking about things that don’t concern you. But I still cling to this desperate belief, and so did my mother, who is dead now. That’s two of us who believed it. And I just don’t want to let some dumb policeman come along and dismiss it out of hand. Not again.’

He stopped speaking and looked at them both in turn.

‘You seem to be alright,’ he said after examining them carefully. ‘You don’t look as if you would dismiss it out of hand. But I would still rather wait a bit before I ask you to help me. I went to see Madame Siméonidis’ father at the weekend, in Dourdan. He showed me all his personal archives, and I think I might have found one or two little pointers. I left him my contact number in case he finds any more documents, but he didn’t seem to be listening at all. He is absolutely devastated. And the killer is still at large. I’m looking for a name. Tell me, have you been her neighbours for long?’

‘Only since March 20,’ said Marc.

‘Oh, that’s not long. She won’t have confided in you. She went missing about May 20, didn’t she? Did anyone come to see her before that? Somebody unexpected? I don’t mean an old friend or acquaintance. No, someone she thought she would never see again, or even someone she didn’t know at all?’

Marc and Mathias shook their heads. They had not known Sophia for very long, but perhaps one could ask the other neighbours.

‘Well, someone very unexpected did come to see her,’ said Marc, frowning. ‘Not someone, exactly,
something
‘

Dompierre lit a cigarette and Mathias noticed that his thin hands were trembling. Mathias had decided he would like this man. He was too thin, and far from handsome, but he was principled, he was following his hunch, his own private conviction. That was how Mathias was, when Marc teased him about hunting the bisons. This fragile-looking man would not abandon his bow and arrow, that was certain.

‘It was a tree, actually,’ said Marc. ‘A beech sapling. I don’t know if that would mean anything to you, because I don’t know what it is you’re looking for. But I keep thinking about that tree, although everyone else has stopped caring. Shall I tell you about it?’

Dompierre nodded as Mathias brought him an ashtray. He listened to the story attentively.

‘Yes. Well,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t expecting that. And right now, I can’t see what it has to do with anything.’

‘Neither can I,’ said Marc. ‘I suppose it doesn’t mean anything. And yet I keep thinking about it. All the time. I don’t know why.’

‘I’ll think about it too,’ said Dompierre. ‘Can you let me know please, when Relivaux reappears. He may have been visited by this person without realising how important it was. I’ll leave you my address. I’m staying at a little hotel in the 19th
arrondissement,
Hôtel du Danube, rue de la Prévoyance. I used to live near there as a child. Don’t hesitate to call me, even at night, because I could be recalled to Geneva at any minute. I’m here on official European business. I’ll give you the hotel address and phone number. I’m in room 32.’

Marc gave him back his card and Dompierre wrote his address. Marc got up and slipped the card under the five-franc piece on the fireplace. Dompierre watched him. For the first time, he smiled and for a moment looked almost charming.

‘This is the
Pequod,
is it?’

‘No,’ said Marc, smiling in turn. ‘It’s a research deck. We do research on all periods, all mankind, all continents. From 500,000
BC
to 1918. From Africa to Asia and from Europe to the Antarctic.’

‘“And hence”’,’ Dompierre said, quoting, ‘“not only at substantiated times, upon well known separate feeding grounds could Ahab hope to encounter his prey; but in crossing the widest expanses of water between those grounds he could, by his art, so place and time himself on his way, as even then not to be wholly without prospect of a meeting.”’

‘Do you know
Moby Dick
by heart?’ asked Marc, greatly impressed.

‘No. Just that sentence, because I have often had occasion to use it.’

Dompierre shook hands with them warmly. He looked back once more at his card, wedged on the fireplace, as if checking that he had forgotten nothing, picked up his briefcase and left. Each standing at a window, Marc and Mathias watched him walk away towards the gate.

‘Intriguing,’ said Marc.

‘Very,’ said Mathias.

Once one was standing in one of the big window bays, it was difficult to move away. The June sunshine lay serenely over the untended garden. The grass was growing at top speed. Marc and Mathias stayed looking out of their windows for a long while. Marc was the first to speak.

‘You’ll be late for your lunchtime shift,’ he said. ‘Juliette will be wondering what you’re up to.’

Mathias sprang up, went upstairs to put on his waiter’s uniform, and Marc saw him leave at a run, buttoned up in his black waistcoat. It was the first time Marc had seen him run. He ran well. A very good hunter.

XXV

ALEXANDRA WAS DOING NOTHING. WELL, NOTHING USEFUL OR PROFITABLE.
She was sitting at a table, her head in her hands. She was thinking about tears, the tears that nobody sees, that nobody knows about, the tears shed in vain and unheeded. But which flow all the same. Alexandra pushed hard on her temples and gritted her teeth. It didn’t help, of course. She sat up. ‘Greeks are free, Greeks are proud,’ her grandmother used to say. She said a lot of things like that, Grandmother Andromache.

Guillaume had said he wanted to spend a thousand years with her. Well, it had lasted just about five. ‘Greeks take a man at his word,’ her grandmother used to say. Maybe so, Alexandra thought, but in that case, the Greeks are stupid. Because afterwards she had had to walk away, trying to hold her head high and her back straight, leaving behind familiar places, sounds, names, and a face. To walk away with Kyril along churned-up paths, trying not to fall headfirst into the bitter ditch of lost illusions. Alexandra stretched her arms. She had had enough of this. She looked at the clock. Time to go and fetch Kyril. Juliette had suggested a special rate for Kyril to have his lunch after school at
Le Tonneau.
It had been a stroke of luck to find people like this: Juliette, the evangelists. Here she was, in this little house near them all, and it was restful. Perhaps because they all seemed to have plenty of troubles of their own. Talking of troubles, Pierre had promised her he would try to find her a job. If she believed Pierre, she would be believing in someone’s word again. Alexandra quickly pulled on her boots and put on her jacket. Too much
crying left you with a headache. Combing her hair with her fingers, she set off for the school.

There were few customers in
Le Tonneau
at this time of day, and Mathias gave them the table in the window. Alexandra was not hungry and asked him only to give some food to Kyril. While the little boy ate, she went up to the bar and gave Mathias a big smile. He found her brave, and would have preferred to see her eat. To keep her courage up.

Juliette gave her a little dish of olives and Alexandra nibbled them, thinking of her old grandmother who had an almost religious respect for black olives. She had really adored Andromache and all the damned sayings she came out with at every turn. Alexandra rubbed her eyes. She was drifting away, dreaming. She had to pull herself together, and say something. ‘The Greeks are proud.’

‘Tell me, Mathias,’ she asked, ‘this morning while I was dressing Kyril, I saw Monsieur Vandoosler going off with Leguennec. Has anything happened? Do you know?’

Mathias looked at her. She was still smiling, but she had wobbled a little while back. The best thing to do was talk to her.

‘Vandoosler didn’t say anything when he went out,’ he said. ‘But Marc and I met a weird guy, name of Christophe Dompierre, from Geneva, very odd character. He had a story about something that happened fifteen years ago, that he wanted to sort out all by himself, and somehow connected with Sophia’s murder. It was some ancient bee in his bonnet. But he absolutely insisted that we weren’t to say a word to Leguennec, so we promised. I’ve no idea what he’s on about, but I wouldn’t want to give him away.’

‘Dompierre? The name doesn’t mean anything to me,’ said Alexandra. ‘What was he hoping to find?’

‘He wanted to see Relivaux, ask him some questions, find out if he had had any unexpected visitors lately. It wasn’t clear. But he’s definitely waiting to see Relivaux, he’s determined to do that.’

‘He’s going to wait for him? But Pierre’s away for a few days. Didn’t you tell him? You didn’t know? We can’t let this guy hang about in the street all day, even if he is crazy.’

‘Marc told him. Don’t worry, we know how to reach him. He’s taken a room in rue de la Prévoyance-nice name, isn’t it? Danube Métro station. I’ve seen the real Danube. Well this won’t mean anything to you, but it’s a quiet part of town, where he was brought up apparently. Odd chap, very single-minded. He even went to see your grandfather in Dourdan. We only have to let him know when Relivaux gets back, that’s all.’

Mathias came round to the front of the bar, and took Kyril a yoghurt and a slice of tart, and patted his head.

‘He’s got a good appetite, your little boy,’ said Juliette. ‘It’s nice to see.’

‘What about you, Juliette?’ asked Mathias, coming back to the bar. ‘Does that ring any bells with you? An unexpected visitor? Sophia didn’t say anything?’

Juliette thought for a while, but shook her head.

‘No, nothing at all. Apart from the famous postcard with the star, nothing happened. Well, nothing that disturbed her. You could always tell with Sophia and I think she would have said something to me.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Mathias.

‘Well, no, perhaps you’re right. Not necessarily.’

‘People are coming in, I’d better see to them.’

Juliette and Alexandra stayed at the bar, chatting, but Mathias arrived with the orders and Juliette disappeared into the kitchen. There was too much noise now. It was impossible to talk peacefully at the bar.

Vandoosler called in. He was looking for Marc, who was no longer at his post. Mathias said that he was probably hungry, which would be normal at one o’clock. Vandoosler grumbled and went out again before Alexandra could ask him anything. He found his nephew at the gate to their house.

‘Deserting your post, I see?’

‘Oh, please don’t talk like Lucien,’ said Marc. ‘I just went to get a sandwich because I was feeling weak. Come on, I’ve been working the whole bloody morning for you.’

‘For her, St Mark.’

‘Meaning?’

‘You know perfectly well who I mean-Alexandra. We’re still getting nowhere. Leguennec is interested in Elizabeth’s father’s criminal record, but he can’t forget the two hairs in the car. Alexandra had better keep very quiet. If she steps out of line at all, he’ll nab her.’