Tales of the Shadowmen 1: The Modern Babylon

by Jean-Marc Lofficier

  “Sir,” Gauthier said. “Time is of the essence. Please tell us everything, in as much detail as you can.”

  Leonard’s anger seemed to drain out of him. He nodded and sank down into a wrought iron chair.

  “It must have been half-an-hour ago. I was awakened from a sound sleep by screaming. It took me only a moment to recognize the voice as Louise’s. The screams stopped, as if a hand had been clapped across her mouth. I was on my feet in an instant and seized my pistol.”

  “Excuse me, Monsieur le Juge,” said Maigret. “You keep a pistol in your bedroom?”

  “Of course I do!” Leonard snapped. “A man in my position has many enemies. I’ve led the investigations of many of the most dangerous gangs in the city.”

  “It’s just an unusual thing to do,” Maigret persisted, “unless there have been specific threats, of course.”

  “Gentlemen,” Gauthier cut in, “we must focus on the heart of the matter. Maigret, these tangents won’t help us to find Mademoiselle Leonard.”

  He turned back to Leonard with an apologetic smile. “Please continue, sir.”

  “Very well.” The magistrate gave Maigret a poisonous look then resumed his story. “I ran to the room as quickly as I could. It couldn’t have taken me more than half-a-minute. When I arrived, the window was open and Louise was gone.”

  “So quickly, sir?”

  “Yes, Inspector. I didn’t see how it could be managed either. I hoped the kidnappers might still be hiding in the house so I roused the servants and put on all the lights. We searched everywhere, but we found nothing. I don’t understand how they could have escaped in such a short time.”

  “There was no one else in the house?”

  “My wife and my other daughter are staying with relatives in at our house in Alsace.”

  “The first sound you heard was Lou–” Maigret paused, “was Mademoiselle Leonard screaming. Is that right, sir?”

  “I’ve already said so, haven’t I?”

  “Of course, sir, but that surprised me. Don’t you keep dogs to guard your house?”

  “I keep two mastiffs if that’s any of your concern.”

  “It’s just that it seems strange. Why wouldn’t the barking of the dogs have roused the house before your daughter’s screams.”

  “The dogs were killed, young man.”

  “Killed? How, sir? Were they poisoned?”

  “They were not. The gardener tells me that their throats were cut.”

  “Cutting the throats of two large dogs must have been a very difficult feat for these kidnappers,” Maigret mused. “Especially without making any noise.”

  A look of disbelief crossed Leonard’s face. “My God, man! Are you a detective or a veterinarian? My daughter is missing! I would think that you, of all people, would see some significance to that! Yet, here you are, wasting time worrying over two dead dogs!”

  “Excuse me, Monsieur le Juge.” Inspector Gauthier’s voice was calm and quiet. “Please allow me to consult with my young colleague for a moment.”

  He took Maigret’s arm and walked with him through the garden gate to the street outside.

  They made an odd contrast. Gauthier was a slender man of medium height who moved with elegant precision. Maigret was taller, bulkier and called to mind the image of a Bernese mountain dog plodding along next to a whippet.

  Once they were outside, Gauthier turned to Maigret.

  “It’s not going to work,” he said.

  “But, sir, I know I can help!”

  “Any other time, I’d say yes, but you see how he is.”

  “I have to try, sir. I can’t stand by while Louise is in danger.”

  Gauthier sighed. “I know how you feel, Maigret. Honestly, I do. But we’re not going to make any sort of progress if I have to separate the two of you every few minutes. He is at his wits’ end, and you are at yours.”

  Maigret’s big shoulders sagged and he nodded. Louise’s disappearance was affecting him. The taciturn patience he could usually call on was a shambles.

  “Besides,” Gauthier continued, “you know who he is. He could have you removed from this case in a minute. He could even have you demoted, and where would I be then?”

  The Inspector smiled affectionately and clapped Maigret on the shoulder. “Don’t look so glum. I’m not taking you off the case.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ve sent for Doctor de Grandin from the Faculté de Médecine. He’ll be arriving shortly and I’m assigning you to assist him. You were a medical student once, weren’t you? Who knows, maybe there’s something to your idea about the dogs after all. In any case, that’s what I want the two of you working on.”

  Maigret knew that the medical evidence was often critical in prosecuting a case. Every part of him wanted to help find Louise, but he could see why that was impossible. He nodded and received another clap on the shoulder from his superior.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.” Gauthier turned and strode back to the house, leaving Maigret at the curb. The younger man sighed. He took a large pipe out of his pocket, loaded it with tobacco and began to puff as he watched the eastern sky lighten.

  The milk wagon had left Auteuil at its slow pace and had used the Pont Mirabeau to cross to the left bank. It had turned onto the Quai d’Orsay and followed the course of the Seine into the heart of the city. As the wagon passed by the Ile de la Cité, it turned south into the neighborhoods of the fifth arrondissement. The shops and restaurants of the scenic Rue Mouffetard were just coming to life when the wagon turned into a small building with the sign ‘Crémerie.’

  A few of the dairy workers glanced at the wagon, but their eyes didn’t linger. All manner of items came in and out of the dairy in those trucks and the workers never took any notice. It benefited them not to know too much.

  Once the wagon was parked out of sight, Gaspard opened the back. The towering Gouroull joined him with the sheet-wrapped bundle in his arms. Gaspard opened a hidden door for the scarred giant and the two went down a stair. They came to a set of passageways at the bottom of the landing. Most of these were blind alleys, designed to delay a police search if the secret of the dairy ever became known.

  Gaspard knew the passages well. He followed a twisting route that emerged in a good-sized chamber. Bright lights came on revealing the two men while the far portion of the room was left in impenetrable shadow.

  “Report.”

  The voice from the shadows was cultured and business-like, with just a trace of a foreign accent.

  “We have the girl, sir.” Gaspard indicated the bundle the giant held.

  “Your partner is not with you and you are injured?”

  “Gouroull too, sir. He’s been shot in the body several times. Philippe is unconscious. I left him upstairs.”

  “The police?”

  “No, sir. It was the work of one man.”

  “A stranger?” A second voice asked. It was similar to the first, though it lacked even the trace of an accent. It seemed less business-like than the first, yet sharper at the same time.

  “He was a tall man, sir,” Gaspard said. “I couldn’t see him well because he wore a long cape or cloak, and a big hat to hide his face. He fought like a devil, but that didn’t help him against Gouroull.”

  “Was he killed?” The first voice asked.

  “No, sir. Gouroull hurt him, but he managed to give us the slip.”

  “I am aware of this man,” the first voice said. “It is regrettable that Gouroull didn’t kill him. He has become a thorn in the flesh of the Red Hand recently. It is good that you escaped from him. Go and see to your injuries.”

  Gaspard bowed to his unseen masters and left the room.

  “Gouroull,” said the second voice, “the girl is unharmed?”

  With a small nod of his head, the giant indicated that it was so.

  “Please uncover her.”

  Louise Leonard gasped as the sheets came away and she saw the scarred face o
f her captor. She started to back away, but a giant hand closed on her arm. When she felt the iron strength of those fingers, she made no effort to struggle.

  “Don’t be frightened. Mademoiselle,” the first voice said. “Gouroull may look like a monster, but he won’t hurt you. Not without cause.”

  “What do you want?” She tried to sound brave though her voice trembled.

  “It is better for you if you don’t know too much.”

  “My father won’t rest until he’s found you!”

  “It’s true your father is a hard man,” the voice replied. “It’s also true he loves you deeply. He will behave intelligently.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “We wanted you to have a good look at Gouroull. You have felt his strength. You have seen what he can do. The police cannot stop him, your dogs couldn’t stop him and even bullets mean little to him. We want you to know that, even after we release you, you will always be in the palm of our hand. Let your father know this so he doesn’t entertain foolish thoughts about us in the future.”

  Louise looked up at the towering man who held her. Her eyes held as much curiosity as fear.

  “I expect you find him hideous,” the second voice said. “His face is a veritable mask of scars, isn’t it?”

  “A mask,” she repeated. “I’m not frightened of masks.”

  She reached up tentatively. When Gouroull didn’t pull away she touched his face.

  “Skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, hair as black as ebony.”

  Gouroull’s brow furrowed as he let the girl’s slender hands brush across the mass of scars and crude stitches.

  “These stitches,” she murmured. “It’s as if you had been...” She turned toward the darkened part of the room. “It can’t be!”

  “Congratulations, Mademoiselle,” the second voice said, “You may have a better deductive mind than your father. You are correct about what and who Gouroull is.”

  She turned toward the voices. “You’ve shown me his face. Are you afraid to show me yours?”

  “That is as much for your safety as for ours, Mademoiselle,” the first voice replied.

  “Gouroull,” the second voice said, “please escort Mademoiselle Leonard to her room. Then return to me and I shall attend to your wounds.”

  The scarred giant released Louise’s arm and gestured for her to follow him. The two left the chamber the way they had come.

  When they were gone, a remote mechanism shut and bolted the door. The spotlights went out and a diffuse glow filled the room. The chamber was empty except for two well-dressed gentlemen sitting behind a large table.

  “What do you think, Cornelius?” the first man asked. He seemed to be the older of the two. He wore a conservative suit and round spectacles. His heavy moustache and unruly mane of greying hair gave him an air of dignity. He looked like someone’s stern but kind uncle.

  “She seems an interesting girl,” Dr. Cornelius Kramm answered. He was smaller and thinner than his brother, with the kind of massive head that suggested genius. He was mostly bald with a fringe of dark hair. He was dressed in a black suit as well. Behind his round glasses, his black eyes were lit by a fierce intelligence.

  “She is quite pretty, too,” Fritz Kramm replied. “I wonder what Gouroull would do with her if we weren’t guiding his actions.”

  “I think you know the answer to that, Fritz, and it’s an ugly picture. The rules of human society have no meaning for such as our friend.” Cornelius paused. “It would be interesting though. I should certainly want to study any offspring that might result.”

  The elite of society in Munich, Paris and New York would have been shocked to hear this conversation. Fritz Kramm was one of the wealthiest and most reputable businessmen on the continent. His brother, Cornelius, had an even more spotless reputation. A famous surgeon, Doctor Cornelius Kramm was as well-known for his philanthropic gestures as for the brilliant procedures he had pioneered.

  “What was that she said about his skin?” Fritz asked.

  “She was quoting a story from the Brothers Grimm. Mademoiselle Leonard is a great admirer of fantasies and fairy tales. She is an avid reader of Féval, Radcliffe, Edgar Poe and, of course, Mrs. Shelley. I believe her special favorite is Madame Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont, and that is most interesting.”

  “Interesting? In what way?”

  “Interesting, my dear brother, because one of Madame Leprince de Beaumont’s most famous stories is of a young woman held captive in the home of a monster. By her goodness and beauty, she eventually breaks the Beast’s curse. It seems his hideous nature is only a mask and he is really a charming prince underneath.”

  “Hmph!” Fritz Kramm grunted. “I wonder if Gouroull has read that one.”

  Cornelius smiled coldly. “I suspect the fantasies of the Italian, Collodi, would be more to his taste. He wants to be a ‘real boy’ after all. As for Mademoiselle Leonard, she may not be expecting the sort of tale the Brothers Kramm have written.”

  “I’d best go up and find out how the police investigation is proceeding,” said Fritz.

  “See if you can learn anything of our mysterious man in black.”

  “I will. It bothers me that we know so little.”

  “Yes.” Cornelius’ voice was frightening in its lack of emotion. “We’ll just have to be prepared when he turns up at our doorstep.”

  Fritz nodded and rose. He crossed to a folding door, which opened, into a small elevator cage. He touched a button and rose from sight, leaving Cornelius alone in the large room.

  Maigret had met Jules de Grandin about four years earlier, during his abortive stint at medical school in Nantes. De Grandin had come as a visiting lecturer and Maigret had been impressed with his energy and encyclopedic knowledge.

  The forensic doctor hadn’t changed. He was a tiny man, full of energy and strange oaths, who had set the young detective to gathering evidence at the crime scene. He had been commanded to take what seemed an absurd number of samples and to make measurements in precise detail. Now, back at his laboratory, Doctor de Grandin was dissecting the bodies of the slain dogs.

  “Move closer, man.” De Grandin’s tone was impatient. “I need you to angle the light so I can see.”

  Maigret complied, though he didn’t understand why the forensic man was so intent on seeing deep inside the gash on the animal’s throat.

  “Surely, Doctor, there’s no doubt about what killed the poor brute?”

  “Ah bah!” the little man snapped. “You know the general cause, but not the particulars. We mean to catch a devil, my young one, and the devil is always in the details.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t see much point. How is any of this helping to find Mademoiselle Leonard? I feel I should be out helping in the search.”

  “The search? That is a charitable description of what is happening. At this moment, Inspector Gauthier and his men are kicking down the doors of known criminal establishments and rounding up wagonloads of street apaches in an effort to pick up the trail of the kidnappers. All in vain. No, my friend, what we do in this room will be of much greater help to your Louise than all the frantic activity of the Sûreté.”

  Maigret started to protest, then realized what de Grandin had said.

  “Why did you call her that?”

  “Your Louise?” the Doctor’s eyes twinkled. “Do you think that I have never been in love? How could I mistake your sighs, your long face unless I was blind? You are her lover, or else you hope to be.”

  “We had hoped to be married.”

  “But her father forbade it?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I have met that pompous ass of a magistrate on several occasions. His daughter must be a rare beauty indeed if you would even consider him as a father-in-law. Tell me, what pretext did he use to forbid a wedding?”

  “He says he won’t have his daughter marry a common policeman. He tells me that I am too crude for Louise.” Maigret smile
d sadly and opened the back of his pocket watch. “I confess, I sometimes agree with him about that.”

  He showed the picture in the watch to Jules de Grandin. It showed a sensitive round face, framed by a wealth of brown curls and dominated by wise, black eyes.

  “She is lovely.”

  “She is more than that. She is an angel.” Maigret shrugged and looked embarrassed. “I know that is what a lover is expected to say, but you would understand if you met her. She is sensitive and gentle, and not only to those in her social circle. I’ve seen her talk to servants, shopkeepers and beggars, always with the same respect she shows her father’s friends. She often goes to the orphanage as a volunteer and reads her fairy tales to the children.”

  “And she loves you.”

  “Yes, sir, she does.” Maigret shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I am a lummox compared to the elegant gentlemen her father introduces her to. Yet she says she sees something in me...”

  Jules de Grandin grunted and ran a critical eye across the young detective.

  “I think she must be more discerning than the silly girls one often meets. It is a shame her father sees you so differently.”

  “Even if he liked me, there are religious differences.” Maigret said. He was surprised at himself for revealing so much. There was something about de Grandin that inspired his trust.

  “Ah,” Maigret saw a look of pain cross the older man’s features. “The old intolerances will raise their ugly heads. I once loved a girl, but she was a Catholic and my mother forbade the match. The good God cannot be pleased when young lovers are kept apart for such reasons.”

  “Still, I must agree with Monsieur le Juge on one point.” De Grandin’s tone was suddenly lighter. “Why should a lovely and refined girl want to marry a man who insists on moping when he has such an excellent chance to rescue her?”

  “Rescue her?” Maigret brightened. “Do you mean you have found something?”

  “Something?” the little man looked scornful. “I have found many things, and you, my friend, are clever enough that you could have found them yourself if you were not so occupied in wishing you were somewhere else. I saw much more potential in you than that in medical school.”