The Red Brick Cellars: A Tolosa Mystery (30 page)

“Like Geraldine Hérault.”

“Exactly. This man was also fascinated by the brains. He said they looked like sawdust: dry and yellow. I guess it’s the sawdust comparison that made him try to set fire to it. It caught fire just fine and set off a small detonation.” Louis looked at Catherine out of the corner of his eyes. “That’s the part I was hoping was true when I started bashing in all those poor corpses’ heads.”

Catherine looked into Louis’s dark eyes. “Yeah. Those short minutes will be burned into my memory forever.”

After a small nod, Louis said, “The man actually went further with his experiments than just setting fire to the stuff.”

“Really? What else did he do? Try to make
papier-mâché
masks?”

Louis flashed a quick smile. “I’m sure he’d have done it if he’d thought of it. No, he also claimed the brains had no taste. I’ll let you imagine what he did to come to that conclusion.”

Catherine made a face and let her tongue hang out. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“Sorry.”

At least he was keeping her mind busy, but the reprieve was only momentary. The knowledge that Maxime was dead kept flooding her mind, washing out all other thoughts.
How can he be gone?

After a minute of silence, Louis sighed. “I missed my train.”

“Where were you going?”

“Away. But lately, whatever I try to do, it has the opposite effect of what I planned for. Perhaps I should plan to stay.” A mirthless smile graced his lips.

“Why would you leave?”

Louis shook his head. “There’s nothing for me here but people pushing me around.”

Did she detect the hint of an accusation in his tone? “Pushing you to do what?”

Louis sighed again, apparently frustrated that he’d have to spell it out for her. “Politics. No matter what I try to do in Toulouse, everybody always expects me to have a political agenda. That I’ll want to continue where my father left off.”

“Oh.” Catherine thought of the several articles she had written since he arrived in Toulouse. Every one of them contained at least one paragraph to that effect. “And you don’t want that?”

He looked up at the clear blue sky. “No. I don’t want that.”

Catherine took a deep breath. “Sorry about what I wrote, then. I didn’t realize.”

Louis smiled at her with real feeling this time. “I know. Apology accepted.”

Catherine thought through the time she had spent with this man over the last weeks. He knew all sorts of things about Toulouse and its history and had charm and charisma to spare just like his father. The question escaped her before she could think better of it. “But why?”

Louis shifted in his seat. “Why don’t I want to go into politics? Because I don’t like what the politicians are doing.”

“You don’t like what the current politicians in Toulouse are doing? Wouldn’t that be a reason
to
get involved?”

“You don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “I disagree with almost everything the Republican Party decides. It might be a democracy, but my single vote in that party isn’t going to do any good.”

Catherine thought she must be missing something; he wasn’t making much sense. “Then join the Socialist Party. Or the Ecologist Party. Or the Communists!”

“My family has been in the Republican Party for three generations.” As if that explained anything.

Actually, it probably did. With compassion in her voice, Catherine said, “You’re a grown man, Louis. You can make your own decisions. If you don’t agree with the Republicans, don’t join them. Check out the other parties, find out whoever corresponds the best with your point of view, and start making changes.”

Louis shook his head. “It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is. Especially for someone with your personality.”

“My family would see it as a betrayal. It’s a family tradition to work with the Republican Party.”

Catherine hooked a dirty strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure you won’t hurt them more by running away? Have you asked them if they would perhaps be proud of you for standing up for what you believe in? How do you feel about what you did today? You stopped a serial killer. If it wasn’t for you, she would have continued her awful experiment and more people would have died.” When Louis didn’t answer, she continued, “You
should
feel really good about yourself for that. As the person on the top of the hit list, I thank you.”

“Of course it’s a good thing she was stopped,” Louis conceded.

“That’s the kind of feeling you can expect to find on a regular basis if you go into politics. You can make Toulouse an even better place to live by helping in a less violent way than today.”

“There are already enough politicians around here. I’m sure they’re able to do the work, be it for the Republicans or the Socialist Party. They don’t need me.”

“I’m sure there are many competent politicians in Toulouse, but there are also people like Madame Ezes. That crazy woman was on the city council. And so is Bernard Gallego, who was apparently responsible for your father’s murder.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Louis. The city of Toulouse could really benefit from you staying.”

His forehead furrowed as he thought about it.

Catherine had nothing to keep her from thinking of Maxime. She felt all alone in the world, which was stupid considering she’d spent the last year trying to get rid of the man. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. Who would she turn to now if she needed help? To stop her heart from careening into a gallop, Catherine started composing an article in her head. She realized she had all the inside information on what happened in those tunnels and it would make a hell of an article. This, she decided, would be her silver lining.

“You’re not thinking about writing an article about this, are you?” Louis interrupted her thoughts.

Catherine threw her arms in the air. “How can I not? I have all the facts and the population should know what has been going on under their feet. Besides,” she added, “am I not allowed some gratification for what I went through?”

Louis shook his head. “So how much were you planning to tell? About the tunnels going under the streets and the houses of so many people? The deputy mayors who worked nights as serial killers? The young Saint-Blancat who killed the bad guy with his bare hands?” His voice broke on the last words.

Catherine grimaced. “I can leave that last part out if you want.”

“Then how would you explain the end of this adventure? That the police killed her? They won’t be any happier with that.”

“I don’t know,” Catherine said, her voice rising slightly. “But the other journalists know even less, so they’ll be speculating much more than me.”

“Either you claim you were down there and know everything or you don’t write the article at all. If you leave something out, they’ll know it and come searching for the answers.”

Catherine wasn’t sure if “they” referred to the police or the Toulousains. “This could be my big break,” Catherine said. “I’m the best person to cover this catastrophe.”

“Didn’t you hear Petit earlier? They don’t want any of this in the press. They’ll give a minimum of information themselves, probably the names of all the victims they find down there, and that will be it.”

“He said not to talk to the press; he didn’t say not to write an article.” She sounded like a petulant girl, but didn’t care. This was her job. Her passion. She couldn’t turn a blind eye.

Louis looked at her beseechingly, a look that suited him too well for comfort. “Will you let it go for me, please? I don’t want any more attention than I already have. And I don’t want the Toulouse city council to get any more bad publicity than is strictly necessary. It’s not good for the city.”

Catherine couldn’t care less about the city’s reputation; it would do just fine on its own. Louis, however, she did care about. He had become something of a friend over the last weeks and had come to save her.

He clearly knew he was winning. He put a hand on her arm and added, “Please, Catherine. I would owe you big.”

“Fine,” she finally conceded. Who knew, it might be a good thing to have a Saint-Blancat indebted to you.

“Thank you,” Louis said. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

Catherine could feel her cheeks flaming and hoped the grime and dirt from the crypt were enough to cover it.

“How about I take you out to dinner sometime,” Louis said with a smile, oblivious to Catherine’s ill-ease. “To make it up to you and celebrate our success. I know this quaint little restaurant close to Saint Sernin.”

Catherine leaned back a fraction to get some distance between them. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Louis,” she said.

His face fell. “No? Why not?”

Because she had watched her ex-husband die mere hours ago and she’d feel like she was cheating on him. Because Louis was too good looking for his own good and Catherine didn’t want to go there. Because he was a politician in the making and that would be the death of her career if they got involved. Because she wasn’t sure if it was just a friendly invitation or if he wanted it to lead to something more.

She replied with the safe reasons. “Because as a journalist, it won’t do for me to be seen too much with you. My boss might demote me back down to the celebrity column. And because of Maxime.”

Louis studied her, probably reading the other reasons from her expression. He nodded. “Fair enough. But I will invite you out for a cup of coffee one of these days. I assume you are allowed to have friends?”

Relieved he wasn’t offended, Catherine gladly accepted. She looked up just as the first body bag was carried out of the house and toward a waiting van.

Forty

“Have we employed
le Midi Républicain
to do our communication for us?” Louis’s mother asked when he came down for breakfast. She held up that day’s newspaper where a picture of Louis covered the bottom of the front page. The headline read, “Saint-Blancat Turns his Coat, Socialist Party Thrilled.”

Pulling a grimace, Louis fell into his chair at the kitchen bench. He had been afraid the news of his going to a meeting with the Socialist Party would get out, but since he hadn’t seen any reporters yesterday, assumed he was in the clear. The photographer must have had quite the lens to have stayed out of sight. So now Toulouse even had paparazzi.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” his mother asked. Luckily, she didn’t seem ready to kill him, only disappointed. Her green-brown eyes looked at Louis expectantly through her red-rimmed glasses. “I am not fond of reading things I don’t already know about my children while I drink my coffee.”

“I’m sorry, Maman,” Louis replied. He got up and leaned over to kiss his mother on the cheek. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I just wanted to go to one meeting to see what it was like. I wish I had told you about it before it made it into the papers, though.”

“Yes, that would have been better.” She put the paper down and settled into her own chair with her cup of coffee. “Now tell me all about it.”

“Can I have some breakfast first?”

“No. Talk first, chocolate later.” Her voice was soft, containing no rebuke.

Louis gave in. “I don’t care if the Republican Party is a democracy. I hardly agree with anything they do, so joining them and then never being listened to didn’t feel like the right thing to do. Not that what they’re doing is awful; it just doesn’t feel quite right.” He grabbed hold of a tassel from his scarf, twining it around his forefinger. His wonderful mother bought him a new scarf again—the third since he’d come back to Toulouse. “Mouad has been telling me about how they do things in the Socialist Party, and that rang more true with me. So I wanted to see for myself.” He pointed at the discarded newspaper. “I didn’t know someone took pictures.”

“And why did you feel you had to keep this a secret from your family?”

Louis threw up his arms in frustration. “You’ve all been with the Republicans since the beginning of time. I didn’t know what kind of reception I’d get.”

His mother studied him over her cup. Louis could see a trace of disappointment at the corners of her eyes, but all in all, it wasn’t so bad. He’d been afraid she would yell at him and throw him out. Which reminded him, he had work to do today.

“I’ll be looking to get an apartment somewhere soon,” he said. “I only need to find some sort of job to get some income, then I’ll move out of my old room and not be a bother.”

His mother sat up straight. “You will do no such thing, young man.” She placed her empty cup on the bench and fixed Louis with her stare. “You will stay right here. You do not have a wife, or even a girlfriend as far as I know, to look after you, so you’ll need me.” Looking at the empty kitchen counter in front of Louis, she must have realized she was currently neglecting said duties. She got up and started warming up milk for Louis’s hot chocolate.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself, Maman,” Louis said. He was happy to see the chocolate was coming, but a little disappointed in his mother’s lack of faith in his abilities to live alone. “I survived ten years in the States without any female help.”

She shot a frown at him over her shoulder before dropping a handful of chocolate into the simmering milk. Sugar followed. “Are you going to join the PS?”

“Yes.”

“Then your life will be nothing like the one you had on the other side of the Atlantic. There, you were just loafing around, never holding onto a job for more than six months. Now you are in
politics
. You will need to focus all your energy on that. I will take care of the rest.”

Louis hung his head. “Maman, I’m not running for mayor. I’m signing up with a political party. I want to stay updated about what’s going on and perhaps have my say in some matters, not to mention participate in keeping Toulouse a good place to live. But I am
not
a politician.”

A cup of steaming hot chocolate appeared in front of him. His mother gave him a half-smile.

“But you will be,” she said. “You are a Saint-Blancat through and through. Blood will come out. And I have nothing better to do since your father passed away.” She turned to the sink to wash the few dishes that accumulated from her own breakfast. “I never cared much about the name of the political party. I care about Toulouse, as you do. I will resign from the Republican Party immediately and follow you to the Socialist Party. This should be fun.”