The Art of Murder (15 page)

“
Was Madame Fontaine fond of
Theo?”

“
Oh, yes, absolutely
devoted, Inspector. But I think, I mean more like a mother. You
know?”

Gilles smiled faintly, not bothering to
write it down.

“
How much of the company
does Theo own?”

“
Last I heard a majority.
Call it fifty-one percent, which is all anybody needs.”

“
Did he ever discuss
business affairs with you?”

“
No, but when I was much
younger he used to lecture me on certain things. Business things.
Scientific things. It’s not that he didn’t care, but I wasn’t that
interested. He and I were on a different wave-length, Inspector. We
cared about different things, we were interested in different
things. In a way it was a blessing, that we were so
different.”

“
What do you mean by that?”
Gilles was getting some of the meat and potatoes, as his old chief
used to say.

He strongly doubted if they were really
that different.

“
It means that Theo was a
very competitive person, Inspector. And so am I, but in ways which
he and possibly you might never recognize.”

“
You mean like the
acting?”

“
Yes. And other things
too.”

“
Such as?”

“
Theo could have had any
woman in town that he wanted. But he never had a wife, and he
probably never would have had a child. Not by choice, anyhow. That
changes you, Inspector, and not always for the better. But he never
could have handled it. I can tell you that much. Not well,
anyway.”

Gilles didn’t go any further. It was
eerily similar to something an older brother had once told him. As
a childless person, and now a middle-aged widower, there were
certain things he didn’t care to learn.

But from long experience as a
policeman, and at some fundamental level as a human being, he knew
that a parent would cheerfully kill in order to protect their
children, and yet he couldn’t quite see how that had happened here.
Alain, perhaps sensing that he was on dangerous ground, didn’t see
fit to enlighten him any further. He had a thought that seemed safe
and he shared it.

“
Kids take up too much time
for a man like Theo. They’re a terrible distraction. I doubt if he
could have accommodated his way of life.”

They had arrived at an impasse on the
emotional level, and he got back to more routine, more
easily-verified details of Alain’s circumstances and
routine.

“
And why were you in
Brittany?”

“
My wife and Amie live with
her parents, since I couldn’t feed them here.”

“
You went to visit
them?”

“
Yes, and to take them some
money…”

“
How much money?”

“
Five hundred francs…all I
had.”

The phone rang in a distinctive
buzz.

“
That almost has to be for
you, Inspector.”

Chapter Ten

Gilles took the
call

After letting Alain go off to his own
home, under the most polite advice to remain available for further
questioning, Gilles took the call.

Not unexpectedly, it was the boss,
Chiappe. The news was not good.

“
No search warrant.” There
was a brief silence. “I’m sorry, Gilles, I did my best. My advice
to you…”

“
Would be inappropriate.”
There came a long sigh from the other end.

The chief hung up without another word.
Gilles had written a little monograph some years before. The thing
sort of took off, and even nowadays was still used by some
instructors at the academy.

“
There is no power on Earth
or in Heaven which can prevent a police officer from laying a
charge if he sees fit, and there is no power, Earthly or otherwise,
that can force him to lay a charge if he chooses not to. It is
called officer’s discretion, and it is a sacred trust. Anyone who
interferes with this duty, or abuses it, is not worthy of the
badge, the uniform, or the oath he takes before the
people.”

If necessary, Gilles would throw the
book at the boss, unless he was completely satisfied that he had
determined an accurate picture of the events leading up to the
death by whatever cause or means of Theodore Duval. Was it a random
suicide, on pure, momentary impulse? Gilles wondered about the
man’s doctor, and if there was some other trouble he didn’t know
about.

One way or another, he needed
answers.

He owed the victim, and the people of
Paris that much. The trouble was, Gilles wasn’t satisfied, not yet.
Not by a long shot. He had a duty, and that took
precedence.

There came a quick knock at the door.
Andre stuck his head in, had a look and then entered.

“
I’ve sent Henri to get some
coffee. What’s next, Inspector?”

Gilles looked at his watch.

“
We’ve got that damned
doctor’s appointment.”

“
Yes, I know how you hate
waiting around in doctor’s offices. I doubt if he will talk without
persuasion.”

“
That’s why I bring you,
Andre”

Levain chuckled at that one.

“
And in the meantime, let’s
start with the cook. Then the driver again, and later on we’ll pay
a little visit to a certain rather attractive young
lady.”

“
That’s the idea, Inspector.
Save the best bits for last.”

Gilles nodded sagely.

“
The maid?”

Gilles thought about it, but then shook
his head.

“
Not unless you can think of
anything.”

Andre couldn’t think of
anything.

“
When in doubt, look busy.”
He was saving Charpentier for later, when he had some time to think
of a few questions about the business side of things.

Andre inclined his head, shrugged in
acknowledgement, and wordlessly got up to fetch the cook. Gilles
opened up his briefcase, and thumbed through his stack of papers,
trying to find her statement and see what she had said
before.

***

“
I’m sorry, but I cannot
divulge any information regarding my patients.” The doctor peered
over the top of his thick lenses.

“
Your patient is dead.”
Gilles was having another one of those days when life didn’t seem
worth living.

Having made the appointment, and having
explained over the phone what it was about, the doctor’s reaction
was a little bit unexpected.

The man shrugged
expressively.

“
I would like to reassure
you that there is no question of any wrongdoing on your part, and
no one is suggesting that there was anything you could have done to
avert this tragedy.”

He shrugged again, not meeting their
eyes, but straying everywhere, from the documents on his desk to
the door, the window, and the floor. As might be expected, the room
was expensively furnished, with scale models of human bones,
including a section of spinal column on the desktop and several
colourful posters of the human anatomy on the walls.

“
We were wondering if there
was some reason for despondency. Was he suffering from some mortal
disease? Did he have something that might have brought long
suffering, or a lingering and painful end?”

“
Was he on dope? They
autopsy says no, but they have been fooled before.” Levain was
trying to help, but to no avail.

The doctor would take some
convincing.

“
If I thought it would do
any good, I would just get a court order.” Gilles was bluffing, but
the doctor didn’t know that. “I would of course prefer cooperation,
as it is usually more trustworthy.”

The doctor’s face reddened, and he
glared at the walls, still not making eye contact.

“
Your patient was rich, and
successful, and very talented. He had a nice life. Why would he
throw it all away on a whim? I understand there is a stigma
attached to mental illness. Nice people don’t like to talk about
it. But it happens in all the best families, in fact in my opinion
it can happen in any family. You could even say it does happen in
every family. I’m not suggesting that this was the case with
Theodore Duval. If there is anything that you can do to help us, it
would be greatly appreciated.”

Taking this as his cue, Levain spoke up
in a completely different tone.

“
Searches can be very
disruptive.”

“
Pardon?” The doctor was
shaken by the thought. “What do you mean?”

“
Oh, you know. It’s a normal
business day, perhaps a day when the waiting room is chock full of
the literati, the intelligentsia, you know—the movers and the
shakers of our fine society. I’m referring to the bourgeoisie,
Doctor.” Levain had clearly been reading some leftist leaflets,
while he was sitting on the toilet or something. “A posse of
gendarmes show up, usher every damned one of them out the door,
perhaps with some inconvenience or embarrassment to them, writing
down all their names and addresses, and then proceed to tear the
place apart looking for evidence of a homicide…”

“
Andre!” Gilles was
apparently livid, although he approved of the tactics.

“
Well, Inspector, if he
can’t tell us anything about Monsieur Duval, then he should
certainly be ethical enough not to let on that he was, or at least
might have been, ah, murdered. Right, Inspector? Our secrets would
be safe with him.”

“
Did—did you say homicide?”
Doctor Hachet’s voice cracked and he trembled with either rage or
fear, it was hard to say which.

Levain went silent, and Gilles just as
silently blessed his impetuousness. It was one reason why they kept
him around.

“
I would appreciate it if
you kept that to yourself, doctor—since you seem to be able to keep
the secrets of your patients. You’re not providing them with
narcotics, are you? All in a day’s work, eh?”

Gilles’ mild manner could not obscure
the steel that lay within, although there would be hell to pay if
this ever got out.

“
But there was nothing!” The
doctor pulled out a crisp white linen handkerchief and mopped a
profusely sweating brow. “Oh, God.”

They waited, more certain
now.

“
All right.” He was about to
speak again, but thought better of it.

He might have cursed them, or been
tempted to, and most likely preferred to stand on his professional
dignity.

The doctor got up, left the room, and
closed the door behind him.

“
Where’s he going?” Andre
cracked an evil grin, but Gilles just shook his head. “Was it
something I said?”

“
I don’t know. Maybe to call
the commissioner.” At this remark, some of Levain’s humour
evaporated.

There wasn’t much point in talking, and
they listened for footfalls in the hallway. Sure enough, when
Hachet returned, he had a thick sheaf of papers in a file-folder in
his hand. He walked around his desk and fell into the
chair.

“
Theo was my patient for
many years. He was a remarkably healthy individual. There was never
any complaint or suggestion of problems with his mental hygiene,
and he suffered from no mortal or painful diseases. This file is
full, and complete, and you will return it to me after you copy it
or whatever you plan to do.”

The doctor did not open it, but spent a
long moment staring down at it. Looking up directly into
Maintenon’s eyes, he shoved it across the desk in a decisive move.
There was some unspoken promise in the look he gave
them.

“
Thank you, Doctor Hachet,
and this will be returned to you in a day or two. We will never
mention this unless we have no recourse but to make use of it. And
I meant what I said. Please forget the word homicide was even
mentioned today.” Gilles held his gaze a little longer, and the
doctor swallowed.

Then he spoke, leaving no doubt as to
his meaning.

“
Inspector Maintenon, if
someone killed Theo Duval, I want you to find them. You will arrest
them, and try them in a court of law. And when that day comes, I
would very much like to attend at their execution, if such a thing
is permitted.” His face was very long somehow, as if grief and
anger combined with gravity to pull his loose flesh towards the
floor. “Theo Duval was a very good man, and insofar as it is
possible between doctor and patient, he was also my
friend.”

“
I’ll see what I can
arrange, Doctor Hachet.” Gilles thought a moment. “And please
forgive my impulsive friend here, but it was true enough what he
said. And don’t put it past us. Thank you for your
help.”

“
Get out of my office.”
Doctor Hachet crossed his arms in front of him and glared at them
as if there was to be no tomorrow.

Levain was careful not to smile. The
man had his dignity to consider, and he wasn’t a bad sort, when you
understood his awkward position. Without a word, they did exactly
that.