The Haunted Detective

by Pirate Irwin

  He left them and carried on walking slowly over the paved stone surface, which was covered in blood, cigarette butts and weapons. He stooped down to pick up an identity card from a pool of blood and wiped the viscous substance from the cream coloured cover.

  He regretted he had made the effort for staring out at him were the solemn good looking features of Lucien Rochedebois.

  Chapter Seven

  “I went there because I wanted to be present when the verdict was announced, rather than hear it on the news. I wanted to see if justice would be dispensed under the new order or did Darnand fit into de Gaulle’s ‘inclusive’ policy,” said Rochedebois, referring to the General’s wish to unite the country after the traumas of the past few years and allow a lot of the collaborators to be re-integrated into society as if nothing had happened.

  “Now I clearly wish I hadn’t,” added Rochedebois, who sported a black eye and bruising to his jaw as well as his ribs he said.

  Lafarge wanted to believe him but he needed to make sure he wasn’t being led up the garden path by his step-brother. He hadn’t reported the discovery of the identification card to his superiors as he didn’t wish to make a drama out of something that might be totally innocent, and he owed Rochedebois that.

  “So you turned up on your own and while you’re standing there someone attacks you?” asked Lafarge.

  Rochedebois, who Lafarge had found at Antoinette’s apartment nursing a large cognac, leant back in the sofa and didn’t reply immediately, drumming his fingertips on the cushion beside him.

  “Yes, I went there on my own. I knew you would be busy and I haven’t been able to track down any of my old mates yet. Besides after spending so long in solitary confinement I thought it would do me good to test how I am in the midst of a crowd,” said Rochedebois.

  “Anyway everything was fine until a group of young thugs turned up and began shoving and shouting at those of us in front of them. Then once the verdict was delivered I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned round and wallop! The next thing I know I’m on the ground being kicked in the stomach and the ribs, and other people are running over me to get away.

  “It was horrific. I thought I was going to die. Fortunately someone didn’t just think of themselves and bent down and hauled me up and I guess my card must have fallen out of my pocket at that point. In any case it wasn’t a time to check you had everything, my priority was to get away as quickly as possible. I took the metro, in my state I provoked looks of distaste and horror from my fellow passengers, and slowly made my way back here.”

  Lafarge, who had taken up position standing at the fireplace opposite Rochedebois, pouted and puffed out his cheeks before nodding.

  “Did you recognize your assailant?”

  “No, it happened so swiftly and I was shielding my head when I was on the ground,” he replied. His look convinced Lafarge that he was telling the truth.

  Lafarge rubbed his chin as he weighed up the overall account, and judged it to be true. He couldn’t see how or why Rochedebois would be connected to the far right, even if Petain had been popular in the POW camp. Darnand and Laval were another matter.

  “Right, interrogation is over,” smiled Lafarge.

  “Don’t you think I should get a doctor round or take you to hospital? That way you can test yourself again around people. The consolation this time being if you feel ill at ease you will have someone at hand to supply you with the medication required to calm you,” added Lafarge, chuckling at his weak joke.

  Rochedebois smiled thinly, and held out his glass.

  “This is my medication Gaston. By all means call a doctor, tell him to bring some strapping for my bloody ribs, but no question of going to hospital,” he said.

  Lafarge bit his lip, reluctant to ply him with too much drink in case he had suffered a concussion. However checking with Rochedebois that it was only his second he relented and served them both before going in search of the maid, Antoinette was out and had been all day, to ask if she knew of a doctor in the neighbourhood.

  Fortunately Beatrice had a number for one, who had been looking after Antoinette and her various ailments since the return from Sigmaringen. He wasn’t in either but Lafarge left a message with his wife for him to call on Rochedebois at the flat.

  “So I take it you won’t be turning up for the sentencing of Laval?” Lafarge asked drily when he returned to the drawing room.

  “Not unless I get a seat in the court room!” replied Rochedebois with a grin.

  “When is Laval being tried?” he asked.

  “It’s in two days. They hope to have it wrapped up quickly. I don’t expect the puppet master to have too many of his former puppets appearing for his defence -- they’re too scared they would incriminate themselves. There are precious few others apart from the ever faithful Bousquet and perhaps father who will testify,” he replied and sighed at how Pierre Lafarge would be condemning himself to death in the process.

  “What, even now he is going to appear for Laval when we have bought the two guards?” asked Rochedebois incredulous.

  Lafarge nodded but added the caveat he had been so upset and infuriated by Bousquet’s remark when they last visited Fresnes he had just wanted to quit the premises immediately. He would go back there early the next morning and inform him of the development.

  “Do you want company?” asked Rochedebois.

  “No I think it is best you rest. You’ve barely been back a couple of days and look at you! You won’t seduce any women looking like that!” said Lafarge.

  Rochedebois laughed but quickly stopped and felt his ribs. Fortunately it was at this moment the doctor arrived and Lafarge took his leave.

  ***

  Laval’s trial went ahead as planned but without the aid of testimony on his behalf by Colonel Pierre Lafarge, the Chief Inspector having persuaded him to change his mind after being reassured by his news about Fayette and Vandamme being there to protect him.

  Laval had been found guilty and sentenced to death -- he had fought tenaciously arguing the trial was not justice and in the end he showed his displeasure by refusing to appear for the verdict, preferring to sit in a room with his lawyers -- but whilst another large crowd assembled this time they behaved themselves and almost without exception cheered and applauded on hearing the decision of the court.

  Lafarge was encouraged that his father was beginning to see the light and drove down to Fresnes in a brighter mood than he had been in for several days. He was further emboldened that he could change his father’s mind because Gerland had come along as well.

  Gerland, who still had a mane of thick lush black hair and a pair of bushy eyebrows that would have been the envy of Victorian gentlemen, was meeting with his father first. They had reasoned Gerland being more distant could present a less emotive argument and if that failed then Lafarge was to attack with all the force he could bring to bear.

  Lafarge waited patiently for Gerland to conclude his business with his father, he remarked the two guards standing outside the meeting room were neither Fayette nor Vandamme but he didn’t think that should be a cause for concern. One or the other may have been on a break when Gerland turned up.

  Gerland came out about 20 minutes later and smiled warmly when he saw Lafarge. Lafarge had good reason to cherish his friendship with the lawyer, for he had helped him on two crucial matters. He had persuaded another lawyer Pierre-Yves de Chastelain to surrender to the Chief Inspector in Limoges, although the end of that had not been so happy, and then a year ago in forcing an especially odious intelligence officer to sign off on a deal even though he was his advocate.

  “So, Henri did you make any progress? Or do I have to deploy the heavy artillery?” asked Lafarge.

  Gerland waved his hand flat-palmed to indicate he had partly succeeded. However, with the trial due to begin two days later and him due in court the next day he wouldn’t have time to visit again so Lafarge had to finish the job now.

  “I wish you the best of luck Gasto
n. It can’t be easy, you seem to be spending more time dealing with your family’s problems these days than keeping Paris safe! Which is bad news for me because it means fewer clients,” Gerland said with a laugh.

  “Well at least it prevents me thinking too much about my own problems,” said Lafarge, which was true and somewhat of a relief as it had been a while since he had been plunged into a dark despair about his triple homicide being uncovered or De Chastelain turning up.

  “And as for you bemoaning the lack of clients you seem to be doing well enough,” added Lafarge patting Gerland’s generous waistline.

  Gerland, whose air of affluence was accentuated by his beautifully tailored navy blue wool suit, roared with laughter.

  “Yes it is true, I am not going hungry, unlike many poor beggars in France,” he sighed.

  “On that note we need to have dinner regarding one of your own problems. Call me when you finish here and we can organize it. I would suggest we do it as soon as possible,” said Gerland.

  The invitation sent shockwaves up Lafarge’s spine, casting all sorts of thoughts spinning through his head as to the problem it might be. He dreaded whatever it was would push him back into the depths of depression. It was something he had visited last year after his son was taken away and had taken a couple of months for him to recover from.

  He nodded at Gerland, made an effort at a smile to hide his anxiety and entered the meeting room.

  His father rose to greet him, this time preferring a shaking of the hands as the colonel had never really been one for this kiss on both cheeks mullarkey. Just as well Antoinette had been around to offer physical parental love mused Lafarge, not that it went as far as an Oedipus complex.

  “So father, Gerland tells me you are wavering which is a good move,” said Lafarge after they had both exchanged pleasantries.

  He had assured him Antoinette was in good health and would love to see him but she only thought it would upset him and of course she would be present in court, although privately he harboured doubts she would turn up.

  Pierre Lafarge, who his son observed with relief was more smartly turned out today and had brushed his hair which suggested the news about his protection had changed his mood, twiddled his moustache, his blue eyes had a touch of merriment in them and wagged his finger at his son.

  “I wouldn’t go as far as that son. That is just Gerland trying to prove he is earning his fat fee. I hope he is more persuasive when we are in court,” said Pierre.

  Lafarge groaned and reached for a cigarette, while withdrawing from his coat pocket a box of Bolivar cigars, his father’s favourite brand and not cheap, but then these too had come for free from his ready source of goods to be found at Darval’s garage.

  A broad grin creased his features and he eagerly opened it and after running the bell-shaped cigar under his nose he placed it in his mouth and gestured for Lafarge to give him his book of matches.

  The look on his face as he lit it and then savoured the first drag suggested to Lafarge it was the first moment of pleasure his father had had since the flight to Sigmaringen.

  He wouldn’t begrudge him this moment, but he needed to press on. His thinking was that perhaps persuasion would be simpler if his father was relaxed and was indulging in something he loved.

  “There is no problem with Gerland. He will do his best as usual. Normally that should be enough because his clients listen to him. But you oh no a Lafarge does not do such things he sticks stubbornly to what he thinks is best,” said the Chief Inspector.

  “Well father I’ve got news for you and brutal as it may appear I’m going to say it straight out. Very soon, in fact in the next week or so, you are going to be three less in your cell block. Yes father. Darnand, Laval and Jean-Herold Paquis, all set to be executed, with the ‘great’ Milice leader due to meet his maker tomorrow morning.

  “You won’t hear the shots because they are being conducted elsewhere. The prison authorities think it might stir up the other inmates. Pity the Nazis didn’t observe such niceties when they ran the prison, but then delicacy was not part of their regime as you well know. Indeed you should be grateful you are being treated humanely considering that was the singular characteristic missing from the behavior of the Milice and much of the police force!

  “Now if you don’t wish to join them and to instead enjoy the relative hospitality of the French prison service for a few years I suggest you throw away your moral guide, whomever that was written by because it is not one I am au fait with, and be pragmatic.

  “You will disown Laval, Bousquet and Darnand as well as Fernand de Brinon and their repulsive anti-semitic driven far right policies and say that your fealty was always only to the Marshal and ergo it follows what he thought was best for France was also your way of thinking.

  “As far as the Jewish question goes, well fortunately for you all it doesn’t feature very high up the list of the court’s priorities, they appear to be mainly judging the defendants as to whether their acts were ones of treason. Thus here you are on stronger ground than your fellow inmates. On the Jewish one personally I find your attitude morally reprehensible and as guilty. However, I’m not the court and you are my father.

  “I cannot let you commit suicide which is what it would be if you went into court saying that Germany was the natural ally and the only one strong enough to destroy Bolshevism. That is tantamount to justifying the Nazis and their mass murder of the Jews, especially as they alleged that it was the Jews driving the Soviet regime and Communism.”

  Lafarge paused, content at his emotional but logical argument, even if some of it was ad-libbed and thought up on the spot. He drew on a cigarette and withdrew his hip-flask, offered it to his father who declined it. His son did no such thing.

  His father shot him a disapproving glance but Lafarge merely shrugged and took another swig.

  Licking his lips he awaited his father’s response. The colonel contented himself by puffing on his cigar and swirling the smoke round his mouth before exhaling it, a thick cloud enveloping Lafarge.

  From behind the cloud his father’s voice rang out, if Lafarge had been a believer he would have taken it as rather Biblical, God speaking down to one of his flock.

  “Well Gaston I appreciate all you have done for me while I have been here,” he said, his voice firm, the tone gentle.

  “Indeed but for you and Gerland I would have been all alone, even if Antoinette has paid for my protection,” he added, looking away from Lafarge and staring at the wall.

  He was lost in thought and Lafarge was reluctant to push him to continue.

  “You know Gaston, saving myself is easy. I don’t have to have a great intellect or a cunning mind to extricate myself from the mess I am in,” he said, still with his eyes fixed to the wall.

  “All I have to say is I never wished for a German victory, and that is true. I never did. All I wanted was for France to be able to live in peace and for its people to be safe. Prolonging the war was not an option and Germany at times was an understanding ‘coloniser’.

  “However, that being said there is no escaping our responsibility in deluding the people into thinking we were going to all live in a Utopian Paradise where we retained our identity. For that we are guilty and also in the end although we did largely keep the people safe it was only because they lived in a climate of fear.

  “That was not something the Marshal and I could ascertain from the Park Hotel in Vichy. Malevolent characters like Laval, Bousquet, Doriot and Darnand knew full well our compatriots were only obeying the laws and pledging allegiance to the Marshal because to do otherwise could lead to arrest, torture perhaps execution or deportation.

  “But to be ignorant is not to be innocent, if anything it is worse. In any case I doubt I would be believed. We are all swimming in a sea of collective guilt, whatever the differing motives for collaborating.

  “Even you Gaston, but then hopefully I am taking on all the guilt of our family…except of course my daughter and your sis
ter Vanessa’s,” he said, his tone changing subtly to accusatory.

  Lafarge smarted at this vicious turn of the knife, it came as a complete shock to him his father would switch from talking about his own defence, and for what had been for him quite an enlightening insight into the splintered Vichy government, and hold him accountable for his sister’s predicament.

  As for him sharing in the guilt of the Vichy regime, that was a convenient shifting of responsibility, and not worthy of the man he had at one point in his life respected the most in the world.

  In any case his guilt was quite separate to that of Vichy as represented by his father, something he might one day be brought to account for, much depending on whether De Chastelain was alive. Vanessa was quite another matter, but it was for another time to explain to the colonel quite how low his daughter had sunk during the Occupation and afterwards.

  Instead of losing his temper he decided it better to have another slug of the excellent cognac, pilfered from one of the many bottles in Antoinette’s apartment, and wait for his father to get back to the real reason for him being there.

  “My you drink heavily Gaston. I thought you had reduced your intake when I succeeded in getting you re-instated and sent back to Paris,” said his father reproachfully.

  “Well father we all deal with our guilt differently,” replied Lafarge sarcastically.

  “I drink because there are few other pleasures to be had out of this goddamn world at the moment. And you are certainly not helping improve it,” he added.