The Art of Murder (16 page)

***

On reading of the death of Theo Duval
in the newspaper, Charles Fauquier phoned police out of a sense of
duty, of outrage, and possibly to head off some bad publicity.
Fauquier and Sons was an old and established gunsmith, with
world-wide renown. The papers were full of the affair for a short
time, but had inevitably moved on to something else.

“
I sold Monsieur Duval a
shotgun, and I understand that he owned several other
weapons.”

Gilles nodded as he took
notes.

“
Do you know if he possessed
a 1911 model Colt forty-five calibre automatic pistol?” Levain was
handling the questions.

“
Yes, I believe he did. In
any case, I serviced such a weapon for him several years ago.” The
man sighed, in perfect understanding of the nature of the
question.

Hopefully, from his point of view, his
firm’s name might be kept out of the affair.

“
There is no suggestion of
wrong-doing on your part.” Gilles reassured the fellow in the
interest of continued cooperation, although Fauquier had contacted
them rather than the other way around.

“
What sort of work did you
do?” Levain had a professional interest, and always enjoyed his
time on the range in annual competitions and in the odd practice
session.

It was like he just never had time
these days, but in pistol shooting, knowing your weapon,
practically living with it, gave a competitive edge.

“
Yes. I would have to check
our records, but as I recall, it was just cleaning and checking for
serviceability.” The man nodded to his assistant, a small, balding
fellow of about forty years of age.

The man turned and headed for the door
leading to offices and the workrooms.

“
I believe it was a gift
from someone, an old soldier who admired him. It’s just an
impression, and I can’t recall the exact words.”

“
Did he talk about any
threats? Sometimes people mention that sort of thing.”

Fauquier shook his head.

“
Nothing as far as that.”
His eyes went up and back a bit, blinking a couple of times as he
tried to recall. “I don’t think that he had ever fired it. As I
recall, it was extremely dirty inside. I think it was a pilot,
maybe.”

“
Any names mentioned? Did he
have anyone with him?”

“
None that I can recall. He
was alone when he came in.” More than anything, he seemed to regret
calling them.

“
What about the shotgun?
What kind?” Levain must have an endless series of questions all
lined up in his head, a good trait.

“
It was a sporting weapon,
with decorative plaques, all in silver and engraved with his
initials.”

The gun had been kept in a room of
sporting trophies, and in the opinion of the police expert who had
examined it, had never been fired.

“
Do you know if he ever used
it?”

An expressive shrug was the only answer
he could give.

“
It might have
been.”

“
How well did you know
Monsieur Duval?” Gilles stuck in an oar for a moment.

“
Not very well, really. He
was famous enough in his own way, and you tend to remember a
customer like that.”

“
I see.” This fit the
pattern well enough.

An expensive shotgun, hung up on a wall
with other weapons, a fairly common high-status decoration. And a
rugged, dependable gun with plenty of stopping power kept according
to the housekeeper in a desk drawer in his business office, which
was also on the same floor as the studio. Basically, they were
taking the maid’s and her word for it. Alexis said the same thing.
It was one of many troubling aspects of the case. Assuming they
were innocent, they had no reason to lie. The question was who else
might have known about it, besides them.

“
A gun like that, the
shotgun, was really more of a status symbol, although there are
definitely people who use them regularly.” Fauquier understood his
customers very well. “Some of our customers enjoy competitions, and
hunting ducks, geese, pheasants. All that sort of
thing.”

They weren’t hunting for the pot, his
attitude seemed to imply.

“
And the pistol?” Levain
brought him back to the point.

“
Not a piece of sporting
equipment.”

“
Do you sell
them?”

“
The Colt? No, but we can
order one in, and I have a couple of used ones. I pay better than a
pawnbroker, especially if the weapon is in good condition, and has
some interest to collectors.”

They listened politely as he explained
the history of the big Colt, which had been proven in service by
the U.S. Army in the Philippines against rebel Moro tribesmen.
Apparently they had good morale, and used drugs to combat pain and
fear of injury.

His assistant returned with a receipt
in his hand. Fauquier gave it to Andre, who stuck in between the
pages of his notebook.

“
Would you like to fire
one?”

Gilles, already concluding that there
wasn’t much here said no, but Andre wanted to try it. Fauquier
unlocked a cabinet and took a heavy black gun out and selected a
box of shells of the appropriate calibre. This one looked very
clean, and Fauquier removed a paper tag on a string.

He handed it to Andre.

“
Heavy.” He passed it to
Gilles for a routine look.

Gilles nodded and gave it back to
Fauquier after operating the slide and looking through
it.

“
A very big gun.” Andre and
Fauquier nodded.

“
These aren’t a common item,
but we sell a few.”

There were still quite a number of them
around, in Gilles’s experience, as U.S. servicemen had pawned any
number of them at war’s end. They turned up from time to time in
homicide and other investigations. All of that stopping power was
something that just couldn’t be argued with.

With the assistant left in charge of
the store, Gilles followed them into the basement shooting range.
It didn’t hurt to indulge the hired help when they had earned a
reward, and Andre was just itching to have a go.

The first report made Gilles
flinch.

“
Unbelievable! Nom de Dieu.”
Upon Andre’s look, Gilles gave him a nod and he turned and emptied
the clip at the target at the far end.

Even though he knew better what to
expect after the first shot, being beside the thing was formidable.
The noise and the concussion were impressive, and caused him to
flinch with each report.

“
Sacre bleu.” Andre seemed
impressed.

“
Hmn. That’s good shooting.”
Fauquier gave Levain an appraising look.

Gilles squinted and saw a tight
grouping of black holes in the target in the vicinity of the upper
chest. Thanking their host, the two men left the building and went
down the street a ways, pausing by the car but not opening up just
yet.

“
All right, Inspector, what
are you thinking?”

“
It’s hard to believe that
no one heard that thing go off.”

“
Interesting.”

“
That’s my line.” Gilles
grinned and slapped his thigh. “But it’s an interesting discovery.
We shall have to test my little theory, if we get the
opportunity.”

Henri rolled down the
window.

“
Are you folks getting in,
or what?” The ebb and flow of pedestrian traffic swirled around
them.

“
In.” Levain reached for the
handle.

Gilles nodded pleasantly at this
response. Andre opened the door for Gilles, and then went around to
the other side. When he got in, there was this look on the other
man’s face.

“
Are they all lying to us,
then?” Other than that, Maintenon would go no further.

Chapter Eleven

“
What’s next?”

“
What’s next, Inspector?”
Andre had a pleased air about him.

The excitement of trying out a new toy
had done him some good.

“
I think Monsieur
Charpentier is next on the list.” Gilles stared out the side window
as the cityscape flowed past in silent counterpoint to his
thoughts. “He went to the house fairly often, and he is in a
position to know something about the man and his world.”

“
Yes, Inspector.”

Gilles gave him a sharp glance, but
Andre was looking out his side, and the tone of the remark was
almost absent. Andre was far, far away.

“
Is everything all
right?

“
Huh?” The shocked look he
got was not very informative.

“
How are things?” Gilles
knew that he had been too obsessed with his own pain
lately.

The world slid by outside the windows,
giving a brief glimpse, ever-changing, of the urban life of the
city. Everyone was anonymous, and they were all going somewhere
else.

Surely other people in the world had
problems of their own, problems not including homicide, but
problems that were serious enough. Not everyone had the ability to
cope with the things life threw at them. Not that he had either,
when he thought about it.

“
We’re having another baby.”
The fact, simply stated, covered a multitude of issues.

“
Congratulations!” Henri
beamed at them in the rear view mirror. “Yay.”

It was like this made Henri’s day
somehow. Maybe it did.

“
Thank you.” Levain’s tone
indicated something more, and Gilles wondered if he was really all
that happy with it. “We’re hoping for a boy this time.”

A sergeant’s pay was nothing like an
Inspector’s, and of course there would be costs, there would be
stress, and worry, and endless trips to the doctor, and once the
baby came, a good night’s sleep would be a thing of the past.
Gilles thought he was lucky to have skipped all of that, and at the
same time he sometimes felt deprived of the so-called joys of
parenthood, which were over-rated but that was the way things were
always stated.

There were many things he would never
understand because of lack of experience, and he accepted that, but
what the hell could you say? The affection he felt sometimes for
the people around him might be a poor substitute for the love of a
father for his children. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what love
was. His present state of existence was the result of love being
gone, taken away long before it was time. He knew somehow that he
would never replace her, and he ached to think on it, so he tried
not to any more.

“
It will be all right.”
Gilles was tempted to pat Andre on the back of the hand or
something, but perhaps that wasn’t appropriate.

He wondered if Andre saw him as a
father-figure. Many younger cops felt that way about their
superiors, at least the more trustworthy ones.

“
Yes, of course you’re
right.”

“
Don’t worry. You’ll have us
to guide you.” Henri’s shoulders twitched in silent humour and he
went back to focusing on the driving.

Henri had the good Catholic’s attitude,
and six children under the age of ten of his own to prove
it.

Levain grinned in spite of
himself.

“
You’ll never have to worry
about days off, and things like that.” Hopefully it was the right
thing to say.

“
He’ll take all the overtime
he can get, Inspector.” Perhaps Henri had more wisdom than Gilles
gave him credit for.

Andre nodded thoughtfully beside
him.

***

Gilles had been reading a little bit
more about Leblanc and what he called the ‘sensual restlessness’ of
the age. Perhaps that was what he was feeling right now. The song
was haunting, full of regrets, and he wondered. If love was such a
beautiful thing, why were there so many sad love songs?

She knew they were there, of course,
but making any assumptions as to how she might feel about it was
tricky. She might hate them, but he thought not. She might resent
them, and he could understand that. She might see it as heaping
additional trials on her slender yet well-formed shoulders, and yet
at the same time she might accept that. He wasn’t even sure why
they were there, but seeing her in her own natural environment was
informative.

She had beautiful shoulders, and Gilles
felt a strange stirring of something deep inside of him. When she
turned, the bone structure of her naked back, and of her shoulder
blades, was amazing…just amazing.

The lady clearly belonged there. She
had found some inner well of fortitude, enough to make her smile a
sad, tired smile when she saw the pair of strangers come in and
find a small table off to one side and near the door. She had
smiled when she recognized them.

She smiled sadly at the inevitability
of it all, and that said something. It was an acceptance of all
that had to be, an acceptance of life’s tragedies, and the
knowledge that they were going to do their job no matter who got
hurt. Gilles had never felt less like smiling when he saw
that.