The Three Evangelists (25 page)

‘Oh yes, it happens, alright,’ said Vandoosler. ‘I’ve caught at least five guys of that type. The slow killer, who chews over his frustration, and puts off the moment, calm as can be on the surface.’

‘Excuse me,’ said Lucien, lifting Mathias’ huge arms.

Now he was shining the table with a soft cloth, and barely listening to the conversation. Marc thought that he really would never understand Lucien. They were all sitting there intensely, with the murderer only a few yards away, and all Lucien could think of was polishing his table. And yet without him, they would have got nowhere. It was practically all his own work, but he didn’t give a damn.

‘Now I understand something,’ said Mathias.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Why I felt warm. I understand now.’

‘Well, what should we do next?’ Marc asked his godfather. ‘Tell Leguennec? If something else happens, and we haven’t told him, he’d have us for aiding and abetting.’

‘Yes, and concealing information from the agents of the law,’ said Vandoosler, with a sigh. ‘We’ll tell Leguennec, but not straightaway. There’s one little detail missing in this scenario that bothers me a bit. St Matthew, would you be so good as to ask Juliette to come over? Even if she’s cooking for tonight, ask her to come. It’s urgent. As for the rest of you,’ he said sternly, ‘not a word to anyone, do you understand. Not even to Alexandra. If a whisper of all this gets to Gosselin, I wouldn’t give much for your chances. So not a word until further notice.’

Vandoosler interrupted himself and grasped Lucien by the arm. Lucien was still polishing the table with wide sweeps, and stooping to the surface to take a view of how it was coming up.

‘Do you hear me, St Luke?’ said Vandoosler. ‘That means you too. Not a word. I hope you didn’t hint at any of this to your photographer?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Lucien. ‘I may be polishing the table, but I can hear what you’re saying.’

‘That’s just as well,’ said Vandoosler. ‘Sometimes you give the impression of being half-genius and half-idiot. It’s infuriating, take it from me.’

Mathias went off to change his clothes before going to fetch Juliette. Marc looked down at the table in silence. It was true that it was beautifully polished now. He ran his finger over it.

‘Feels good, huh?’ said Lucien.

Marc shook his head. He did not really want to talk about the table. He was wondering what Vandoosler had in store for Juliette, and how she would react. The godfather was good at breaking things, he had got it down to to a fine art. He always cracked nuts with his bare hands, never deigning to use a nutcracker. Even when they were fresh, which makes it harder. But that had nothing to do with this.

Mathias brought Juliette in and seemed to help her onto the bench. Juliette didn’t look at ease. It was the first time that the old
commissaire
had so formally asked her to come. She saw the three evangelists sitting round the table with their eyes fixed on her and that didn’t make her look any more comfortable. Only the sight of Lucien, carefully folding his polishing cloth, seemed to relax her a little.

Vandoosler lit one of the shapeless cigarettes he always had loose in his pockets, no-one knew why.

‘Marc told you about Dourdan, did he?’ said Vandoosler, looking hard at Juliette. ‘The production of “Elektra” in 1978, in Toulouse, and the attack on Sophia?’

‘Yes,’ said Juliette. ‘He said that complicated things without making them any clearer.’

‘Well, now, they’re becoming a bit clearer. St Luke, pass me the photo.’

Muttering, Lucien fished about in his bag and gave him the photograph. Vandoosler placed it in front of Juliette.

‘Fourth on the left, fifth row down, recognise him?’

Marc stiffened. He would never have gone about it this way.

Juliette glanced at the photograph but without concentrating.

‘No,’ she said. ‘How am I supposed to recognise anyone? It’s an opera Sophia was in, isn’t it? I’ve never seen an opera in my life.’

‘It’s your little brother,’ said Vandoosler. ‘And you know that as well as we do.’

Bang goes the nut, thought Marc. Single-handed. He saw the tears come into Juliette’s eyes.

‘Alright,’ she said with a trembling voice, her hands shaking. ‘It’s Georges. But what about it? What’s wrong?’

‘There’s so much wrong with it that if I call Leguennec, he’ll have him down at the station in an hour. So tell us about it, Juliette. You know it will be better in the end. It might avoid people jumping to conclusions.’

Juliette wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, but said nothing. As he had in
Le Tonneau
the other day to Alexandra, Mathias came up to her, put his hand on her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. And as the other day, Juliette made up her mind to talk. Marc promised himself he would ask Mathias what kind of ‘open sesame’ he was using. It could be useful in all sorts of ways.

‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ said Juliette. ‘When I came to live in Paris, Georges followed me. He’s always followed me. I started doing cleaning jobs and he didn’t do anything. He wanted to work in the theatre. You might laugh now, but he was quite good-looking then, and he’d had a bit of success acting at school.’

‘Any success with the girls?’ asked Vandoosler.

‘Not much,’ said Juliette. ‘Well, he looked around and he got a few walk-on parts. He said you had to start that way. Anyway we didn’t have enough money for him to go to drama school. Once you are an extra, you get to know your way around. Georges managed quite well. He was an extra several times in operas where Sophia was the lead singer.’

‘Did he know Julien Moreaux, Siméonidis’ stepson?’

‘Yes, of course. In fact he used to hang around him, hoping he would get a bit of help. But in ‘78, Georges gave up the stage. He’d been at it for four years and it wasn’t going anywhere. He got discouraged. Through a friend in a theatre company, I can’t remember which one, he got a job as a courier for a firm of publishers. He stayed there, and now he travels for them. And that’s all.’

‘No, it’s not all,’ said Vandoosler. ‘Why did he come and live in rue Chasle? And don’t tell me that it was a fantastic coincidence, as I won’t believe you.’

‘If you think Georges had anything to do with the attack on Sophia,’ said Juliette, getting indignant, ‘you’re completely on the wrong track. It upset him and he was quite shaken, I remember very well. Georges is a timid, mild man. Back in the village, I had to push him to make him go and talk to girls.’

‘He was shaken? Why was he shaken?’

Juliette sighed, looking unhappy and hesitating to go on.

‘Tell me the rest before Leguennec gets it out of you,’ said Vandoosler gently. ‘You can give the police an edited version. Just tell me everything and we’ll sift it all afterwards.’

Juliette glanced at Mathias. ‘Alright’ she said. ‘Georges had fallen for Sophia. He didn’t tell me about it, but I wasn’t so stupid I couldn’t see it. It was just obvious. He would have turned down any walk-on part
that was better paid, if it meant missing a chance to be in Sophia’s opera season. He was mad about her, absolutely mad. One night I got him to tell me about it.’

‘What about her?’ asked Marc.

‘Sophia? Oh she was happily married, and a million miles from suspecting that Georges worshipped her. And even if she had known, I don’t think she would have been attracted to him, he was so clumsy and awkward and unsure of himself. He didn’t have much success, no. I don’t know how he managed it, but women never noticed that he was quite good-looking in fact. He always walked about staring at the ground. In any case, Sophia was in love with Pierre and she still was, up to the time of her death, whatever she might say.’

‘So what did he do?’ asked Vandoosler.

‘Who, Georges? Nothing,’ said Juliette. ‘What could he do? He suffered in silence as they say, that’s all.’

‘And what about your house?’

Juliet winced.

‘When he stopped acting I thought he was going to forget this opera singer and meet other women. I was relieved. But I was wrong. He bought her records, he went to see her at the Paris Opéra when she was singing there, and even to towns in the provinces. I can’t say I was happy about it.’

‘Why?’

‘It was just making him sad, and it was going nowhere. And then one day, our grandfather fell ill. He died some months later, and we inherited. Georges came to see me, looking at the ground as usual. He said that there was a house that had been on the market for three months, in central Paris, but with a garden. That he’d often been past it, doing his rounds on his scooter. I was tempted by the garden. If you come from the country, you miss the grass. I went to see the house with him, and we decided to buy it. I was keen, especially because I had seen a place nearby where I could set up with my restaurant. That is, I was enthusiastic until I found out who our neighbour was.’

Juliette asked Vandoosler for a cigarette. She hardly ever smoked. She looked tired and sad. Mathias brought her a glass of cordial.

Of course, I had it out with Georges,’ said Juliette. ‘We quarrelled. I really wanted to sell it. But by that stage we couldn’t. We’d already started to have work done on the house, and in
Le Tonneau.
There wasn’t really any way we could pull out then. He swore to me that he wasn’t in love with her any more, or almost not, that he just wanted to be able to see her from time to time, maybe even become friends. I gave in. Anyway I didn’t have much choice. He made me promise not to tell anyone, especially, Sophia.’

‘Why? Was he afraid?’

‘He was ashamed. He didn’t want Sophia to guess he had followed her here, or for people round about to know and laugh at him. It was only natural. We decided to say that I’d found the house, if anyone asked us. Nobody did. Anyway. When Sophia recognised Georges in the street, we laughed and said what a coincidence.’

‘And she believed that?’ asked Vandoosler.

‘Apparently,’ Juliette said. ‘Sophia never seemed to suspect anything. When I saw her for the first time, I understood why Georges was so keen on her. She was really beautiful. She charmed everyone. At first she wasn’t here much, always going off on tour. But I tried to meet her often, and to get her to come to the restaurant.’

‘What for?’ asked Marc.

‘Well, I was hoping to help Georges, to get her to notice him a bit. I was sort of matchmaking, I guess. It wasn’t the right thing to do, no, I know, but he is my brother. Anyway it didn’t work. Sophia would say hello nicely to Georges when she met him in the street, and that’s as far as it ever went. He began to get the message. So his idea of buying the house was turning out OK after all. And gradually, I became very friendly with Sophia.’

Juliette finished the cordial and looked round at them. Their faces were silent and preoccupied. Mathias was wriggling his toes in his sandals.

‘Tell me, Juliette,’ said Vandoosler. ‘What was Georges doing on the night of Thursday June 3? Was he here, or was he away somewhere?’

‘June 3? When they found Sophia’s body? Why do you want to know?’

‘I’d just like to know.’

She shrugged and picked up her handbag. She took out a little diary.

‘I make a note of all his trips,’ she said. ‘So as to know when he’ll be back and get a meal ready for him. He left here on the morning of the third, and came back at lunchtime next day. He was in Caen.’

‘So the night of the second to the third, he was here?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said, ‘and you know that as well as I do. I’ve told you everything now. You’re not going to stir things up about this, are you? It’s just a sad story of unrequited love that went on too long. There’s nothing more to say about it. And he certainly didn’t attack her. He wasn’t the only man in the cast, for heaven’s sake!’

‘But he was the only one who kept following her for several years after that,’ said Vandoosler. ‘And I don’t know what Leguennec will make of that.’

Juliette stood up abruptly.

‘He worked under a stage name!’ she cried. ‘If you don’t tell Leguennec, he’d never know Georges was in the cast that year.’

‘The police have ways and means,’ said Vandoosler. ‘Leguennec will check the cast list.’

‘He won’t be able to find him!’ cried Juliette. ‘And anyway, Georges didn’t do anything wrong!’

‘Did he go back on the stage after the attack?’ Vandoosler asked.

Juliette looked upset. ‘I don’t remember,’ she said.

Vandoosler got up in turn. Feeling desperate, Marc stared at his knees and Mathias had gone to look out of the window. Lucien had disappeared without anyone noticing. Off to fetch his war diaries.

‘You
do
remember,’ said Vandoosler. ‘You know he didn’t go back to acting. He came back to Paris, and he told you that he had been too upset by the attack, didn’t he?’

Juliette looked panic-stricken. Yes, it was obvious that she remembered.

She ran out, slamming the door.

‘She’s cracking up,’ said Vandoosler.

Marc was gritting his teeth. Georges was a murderer, he had killed four people, and Vandoosler was a brute and a bastard.

‘Are you going to tell Leguennec?’ he hissed.

‘We have to. See you this evening.’

He took the photograph and left.

Marc didn’t feel like seeing his godfather that evening. If Georges was arrested, it would get Alexandra off the hook. But he was feeling ashamed. My God, one doesn’t crack nuts with one’s bare hands.

Three hours later. Leguennec and three policemen arrived at Juliette’s house to arrest Gosselin. But he had fled, and Juliette couldn’t tell them where he had gone.

XXXIII

MATHIAS SLEPT BADLY. AT SEVEN IN THE MORNING, HE PULLED ON A
sweater and trousers and slipped out quietly to knock at Juliette’s door. The door was wide open. He found her sitting on a chair, looking shattered, three policemen round her turning the house upside down, hoping to find Georges Gosselin hiding in a cupboard. Others were doing the same thing at
Le Tonneau.
Cellars, kitchens, every room was subjected to the same search. Mathias stood with his arms dangling, looking at the unimaginable mess the police had managed to make in just an hour. Leguennec, who arrived at about eight o’clock, gave the order for the house in Normandy to be searched as well.