Speak Softly My Love (12 page)

“
I’m a little surprised by the question.” She stood up behind
her desk. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

They
exchanged glances.

“
No, why do you ask?”

“
Because I was just speaking to Monsieur Godeffroy, not two
days ago. He’s on his way to Bordeaux, you know, for the autumn
trade shows down there—”

“
Bordeaux?” Tailler resisted the urge to slap himself on the
side of the hat.

They’d never even considered the possibility. They were just
so damned
sure.

“
He called. He’s on a big sales trip. He said he might be
delayed on the way there—something about seeing a problem customer,
and yet it’s a good account. He’s had to put off a lot of other
appointments. It’s an
important
account. Didier sold them the original order, ten
or twelve years ago. He’s been servicing that account ever since.
Anyway, they’re real sticklers sometimes.” They had every right to
be, in her obvious opinion, which remained unsaid.

“
And where is this?” Hubert had a note of disbelief in his
voice, hand frozen in the act of reaching for a pen.

The hand
finally dropped into the pocket.

“
Troyes, is what he said.” She mentioned a company name, they
made a wine that was familiar even in Tailler’s limited
experience.

“
Do you have a number, a hotel where we could reach
him?”

“
Well, no, he’s on the train today. He makes all the stops,
gentlemen. It’ll take him a day or two to get to the real champagne
country down around Troyes. Three days there and then down to
Bordeaux. Then there’s the whole Moselle swing he usually takes
about this time of year.”

“
So…” Tailler licked his lips and wondered what the hell to
ask first. “So what exactly does Didier do on these little
trips?”

“
He’s a qualified taster, and he will place orders for
carefully considered quantities of various vintages. He visits all
major chateaus and many of the smaller ones. It’s a question of
quality—and getting there early with a rational offer on the
futures. The very best vintages, from exceptional growing
years…well. The house reserves might be kept for months and years,
but when it comes on the market, a percentage of that wine will be
sold to us. There’s an agreed-upon price, and we have a contract.
We have commitments.”

Gaston e
Cie sold, or distributed, wine, brandy, cordials and liqueurs. They
were major importers and exporters. She slowly lowered herself into
her desk, studying Hubert’s identification, and then she looked up
at Tailler.

“
Go, on, Mademoiselle, what else does he do?”

“
Well, a lot of things really. He represents the company on
all sorts of levels. He’s as much of a salesman as buyer—he’s
always traveling, you see. They talk amongst themselves. Such
types, I mean. If Didier is impressed with a wine, he will tell
people all about it. People, vintners and growers, stalk him
almost, hoping that he will discover their wine. Sometimes it’s a
worthy vintage and then of course he’s interested. He has a lot of
power in the company, as you can imagine. Then he takes orders.
He’s always got his little order book with him. Sometimes we have
the wine in stock. Sometimes we have it shipped from elsewhere, and
we take a straight commission. He travels with a large portmanteau,
and crates of half-size sample bottles in the freight car
sometimes. Most customers simply rely on his word, on his taste and
discernment. They might be looking for a house red at a certain
price and of course he is always very good at that sort of
thing.”

In other
words, she was in love with him.

“
I see.” Hubert took the plunge. “So. How hard would it be for
someone like Didier to have an affair? How difficult to take a
mistress, for example, and hide it from the wife?”

Her face
went flaming red and was up and out of the desk. She strutted past
them, back stiff and chin erect.

She
opened the door and held it.

“
Gentlemen. If you have further questions, it would be much
better if you spoke with Monsieur Gaudet. He is in the office now,
I believe, and if you will just take a seat in the
ante-room.”

Without
argument or comment, the pair of rather subdued detectives departed
her work space. Tailler hesitated, but he just had to try her
again.

“
Mademoiselle.”

She
sniffed and lifted her chin.

She
wasn’t budging.

“
What is this
about,
gentlemen?”

“
It’s just that we need to speak to Monsieur
Godeffroy.”

Hubert paused. An impasse of sorts had been reached and he
needed to break it. Why not keep bludgeoning,
it’s what I’m here for.

“
We will need a list of any hotels that he may have regularly
stayed at. Any phone numbers where he might be located would also
be very helpful. We regret any inconvenience our visit may have
caused. We certainly never intended any disrespect…to anyone at
all.”

She said
nothing, clasping her collar up near her slightly-waspish throat.
With a nod of acceptance, he went out the door. She closed the door
behind her and then went down the hall.

Her walk
was not a happy one.

They sat
there. There was a long, red leather couch and one empty low table
with a bowl of stale peanuts on it. They were almost afraid to
speak. It was almost funny, and almost sad. There was this sinking
feeling like they’d been had, somehow. Neither one knew what to
think. They needed time to analyze. She was back in two
minutes.

“
Monsieur Gaudet will see you now.” She was very stiff, very
firm, very erect.

Very
proper.

“
Thank you.”

Another secretary came along just then and cocked her head
and eyebrows. They got up and followed her in. The backside on this
one was
formidable.
Mademoiselle Pelletier stood there with a storm cloud for a
face, face to the farthest window, either unwilling or unable to
look at them directly.

***

A tall,
balding man in a very expensive business suit, the gentleman was
reserved but polite. Tailler wondered what the lady might have told
him. Probably only that they were making inquiries, and that they
were from the police.

“
We were just asking Monsieur Godeffroy’s secretary a few
questions.” Hubert was casual.

“
Yes, so I understand.” The gentleman shook their hands, and
then studied their proffered IDs, one at a time.

He
handed them back and ushered them over to a low conversation-pit,
dark wool in a kind of warm chocolate brown. The wood furnishings
showed that machine-age touch, narrow geometric and patterned
lines, curves here and there, and the lovely classic proportions.
The carpet was thick as anything he’d ever known. Hubert slowed and
stared for a moment, examining some etchings on the wall. Studying
the signature, he’d never heard of the guy. The place certainly
looked very prosperous. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting,
but this was anything but the back room of a second-hand clothing
store. A firm like this would have a lot of important
customers.

It
introduced a whole new element.

Tailler
sat, noting the factory smoke-stacks visible just on the other side
of the road. There were railway tracks nearby. The route to Lyon
had followed the river for a ways, probably right through here. The
tracks couldn’t be more than a hundred and fifty metres away. There
was an unmistakeable rumble coming up through the chair and the
soles of his feet.

“
Please let us know how I can be of assistance.”

The
gentleman clasped his hands and looked at them calmly.

“
Well, it’s just that we’d very much like to speak to Monsieur
Godeffroy. Didier. It’s just that his wife, well, she’s a little
worried about him. He took off without a word. He hasn’t checked
in, for quite a while. We pooh-poohed it at first—the
flics,
you know, we’re
not all that interested in…ah,
divorce
—shit cases like that, eh,
sir?” Tailler cleared his throat. “It’s just that he’s been gone
for a while. Maybe he’s just forgotten to leave a note,
eh?”

The
gentleman’s eyebrows rose.

It was
Hubert’s turn.

“
She says they weren’t fighting or anything like that, uh,
sir.”

“
I’m sure Didier would never do anything to upset Madame—I
mean Monique. They make an admirable couple, and they always seemed
very much in love. I must say.” If Monsieur said it, then it must
be so.

Hubert
sat down. He crossed his legs as the fellow sort of waited
politely.

They
were all very good friends for some reason.

“
Hmn. Disappeared, you say.” Gaudet chuckled
expressively.

“
I understand from his secretary that Didier is on a road trip
right now. Is this true? And what sort of places would he be,
ah…going.” Hubert seemed satisfied with this contribution as
Tailler’s pen took that down.

It was
no act, all of a sudden both detectives were very unsure of
themselves. What a bombshell.

“
Didier is headed for Bordeaux. We have dozens of suppliers
down there, and dozens of clients.”

Tailler
interrupted.

“
When was the last time you spoke to him? When was the last
time he came into the office?”

“
Ah—” The gentleman, Vice-President of Sales and Distribution
by the plaque on the door, looked nonplussed. “Ah. Four or five
days ago—”

“
You mean like Tuesday?”
Tricky,
Hubert—very tricky.

“
Ah, no, sir. Ah—I’m pretty sure it was Thursday—Thursday
morning. And then again in the afternoon, he was just checking his
list and the itinerary. We popped out to the warehouse and had a
look around! Honestly, it’s more art than science sometimes. Pure
guesswork a lot of the time. Especially with completely new
products. It’s very important to know his way around down there, as
you can imagine.” He went on to explain that Didier would have a
long list of appointments, made ahead of time.

Didier
worked in more cold calls when he could, and he was always very
diligent in seeking new leads.

“
So, what is this all about, gentlemen?”

Hubert
shrugged, elaborately, a national trait.

“
That, sir, is a very good question.” It had to be
about
something,
after all.

Shit.

Thursday.

It was like a punch in the guts.

Human
nature being what it was, there would be last-minute changes and
thus changes to his schedule.

“
It’s quite hectic, especially in the season.” Christmas was
coming, or so he told them with a dry but engaging wit. “Right now
we have a little space in our warehouses. Didier will have it
packed to the rafters in there, and in pretty short order. I took
him on as a very young man and we have, ah, never been
disappointed. He has one or two
protégés
of his own.”

“
It’s a heady responsibility for one so young.” Tailler was
stalling, stalling for time and fishing for information of almost
any kind.

“
Ah, yes. He grew into the job, don’t you know.” The gentleman
looked slightly amused. “He was knowledgeable to begin with, of
course. There always has to be some sort of rational level of
skill. Otherwise why take them on? It’s just a disappointment for
all concerned. So…ah, really, gentlemen, what is this all
about?”

“
Nothing, really. Probably just the lady getting upset and the
fellow maybe decided to punish her a bit. I suppose there’s no
reason why he would want to talk about it at work, that’s only
natural. As you know, some relationships are a little bit
dependent, and a little bit abusive. He took off on some long sales
trip. Didn’t say where he was going. It could be like that.
Sometimes it’s all too simple. Anyways, we’re sorry to be wasting
your time.” Hubert rose, his thin trousers sticking to his legs and
raising the hairs with static electricity.

It
always felt somehow shameful, tugging them down into place
again.

“
Ah, when did he leave? Any idea what train he might have
taken?” Tailler took up the momentary slack.

Monsieur
Gaudet didn’t know, but Violet should have all of that. He would
just buzz her in a minute.

They
could wait in the anteroom. If there were any more
questions?

Tailler
heaved a sigh. He stood.

“
It’s strictly routine, sir. Sorry to have bothered you. No
doubt we’ll get it all straightened out. Yeah, he’ll probably show
up. Sooner or later, eh? Thank you for your time.”

Hubert
had another question.

“
Did Monique ever call here looking for him? Say last week,
Thursday or Friday?”