The Haunted Detective

by Pirate Irwin

  He was presently another of the ‘guests’ in Fresnes and many thought he might end up like Herold-Paquis for his rabid anti-Semitism and denunciations of colleagues during the Occupation.

  Happily Lafarge and Aimee were now guests of the Girauds fine establishment drooling over their home made foie gras – homemade Lafarge thought was perhaps a gross exaggeration too far but he wasn’t going to pull them up on that nor enquire where they had got it from – and a fine bottle of Sauternes.

  Aimee looked better for the outing, some colour had returned to her cheeks and there was a bit more life in her eyes. However, Lafarge did his best to steer the conversation away from anything too sensitive but of course with the liberation only a year ago and the war ended months before it was hard to avoid the subject. Especially as the film had featured Arletty and briefly Le Vigan and Aimee was not in a mood to forgive them.

  “Carne should not have cast them, simple as that,” she said firmly.

  Lafarge didn’t think it was going to do much good to argue the toss, especially as he knew little of that world and he couldn’t possibly judge Carne and his choice of cast. However, he made a fist of defending Arletty.

  “Le Vigan sounds a desperate character I will admit that and it sounds as if he was the type who would have joined the Milice if he hadn’t enjoyed the favour of Greven in being cast in films,” said Lafarge referring to Alfred Greven who had headed up the German Continental Films operation in France during the Occupation and had been the omnipotent ruler of what got made.

  “However, Arletty I sympathise with. Affairs of the heart do not make her a beast or a collaborator. If she had been found to have denounced people then of course she deserves to be reviled and barred from films.

  “In any case with all due respect Aimee I don’t think Carne had any choice of who he cast and Arletty is the greatest actress in France. That is borne out I’m sure you agree with her performance in the film. To this heathen eye she was exquisite as Garance,” added Lafarge swallowing the last of his foie gras and washing it down with a glass of Sauterne.

  Aimee smouldered, which Lafarge rather enjoyed, although he swore to himself he wasn’t deliberately playing the agent provocateur.

  “Well I think her behaviour and that of others like Mireille Balin and Coco Chanel was outrageous. Balin was always a neurotic and envious person, we acted together several times and she played some tricks on me which I found distasteful. Arletty I expected more of.

  “I just don’t think they fucked their Germans because of who they were as people but because they wore the uniform of the conquerors and that to me is unforgiveable,” she sneered.

  “Yes but Aimee unlike you there are a lot of people in your world who are desperately insecure and these women patently have an issue with being protected. Perhaps a father complex I don’t know but I don’t think that they are collaborators.

  “Yes they benefited from having better food, and wanted for nothing but they also had talent which could have brought them those things in any case,” he retorted slightly annoyed at what he saw as Aimee’s judgmental attitude.

  “Exactly that is my point! They have talent so therefore they didn’t need to spread their legs for the enemy,” she smirked.

  He’d liked to have replied she’d done exactly the same thing by sleeping with him but that would have sparked a furious row and he hadn’t covered himself in glory initially. Also she was entitled to her opinion and she knew more about the cinema and theatre than he did. His knowledge of it apart from her extended only to having met Cocteau and Marais and he was content to leave it at that as their pretentious preciousness hadn’t endeared them to him.

  “Gosh you wouldn’t believe this but I knew someone in the Pathe newsreel,” he said changing the subject.

  “Who Goering, Hess, Ribbentrop?” she said drily.

  He laughed glad she was able to crack a joke about the paladins behind the apparatus that had inflicted such pain on her.

  “No silly! My step-brother was one of those featured shaking hands with Frenay after they had returned from being prisoners of war,” he said.

  “Really, that’s a coincidence as some of us from Ravensbruck were on the same train. Of course the Pathe people didn’t think it was sexy to film us and we were ushered out of the station as soon as was possible and taken to the Lutetia,” she said sounding bitter and hurt.

  Lafarge patted her hand and took her fingers in his. However, there was an unpleasant thought nagging at the back of his mind which had been there since he saw the footage.

  “How long ago did you say you came back?” he asked.

  “Christ you have a mind like a sieve Gaston! Are you sure the cognac hasn’t burnt holes in that brain of yours!” she said laughing.

  “No Aimee I’m being serious. I don’t think I took it in when you came back into my life last night, the shock was such,” he said.

  She blushed and looked him in the eye.

  Lafarge reckoned she was trying to read what he was thinking. She would be disappointed if she thought he was thinking of her, for he was thinking more of Lucien and they weren’t positive thoughts, more like doubts which he hoped would be erased once she replied.

  “I came back three weeks ago, but why is that so important?” she asked.

  He tried to hide his disappointment, for it was the answer he had not wanted to hear.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lafarge drew on his cigarette and tapped his fingers on the table as he waited for Bousquet to be brought to the visitors’ room at Fresnes. He hadn’t slept very well, partly to do with the richness of food he had eaten not digesting very well and trying to work out why Lucien had lied over when he had returned.

  He wouldn’t know the reason until he had the chance to speak to him, but for the moment he put it down charitably to Lucien not wishing to upset his mother by his appearance; Thus he had taken himself off to a hotel or perhaps stayed with one of his fellow POW’s and rebuilt his strength and put on some weight to make himself presentable to Antoinette.

  Lafarge couldn’t really think of any other reason for his wishing to stay away. Still it required looking into because Lafarge did not like unsolved conundrums.

  He would do so after he’d swung past the Hotel de Brienne and seen Junot. First, however, he had to quiz Bousquet which was not likely to be a civil meeting.

  He was right on that score as the door opened and Bousquet walked in accompanied by a guard. The former police chief looked tired with bags under his eyes. He also looked as if he had been crying because his eyes were swollen.

  Lafarge didn’t bother standing up and offering the chair opposite to him to Bousquet, simply nodding to him. Bousquet, dressed just in a light blue shirt and chalk grey pin-striped trousers, pulled out the chair and sat. He didn’t look at Lafarge, preferring to swing his legs to the side of the table and stretch them out whilst staring into the corner of the dank cold room.

  Lafarge, who was heavily clothed for the freezing conditions of Fresnes and was surprised Bousquet was not shivering, sighed and decided against offering him a cigarette. He was to be offered minimal courtesy. He dismissed the guard, judging it highly unlikely Bousquet would resort to physical violence as he had preferred to instruct his subordinates to do that.

  “Bousquet I think you know why I’m here. I hope you do because I don’t want to waste any time more than I have to with you and I am sure for once you concur with me,” said Lafarge enjoying the moment of addressing his former boss by just his surname.

  Bousquet flinched and his features darkened, Lafarge thought he must have expected the lack of respect being shown but nevertheless hearing it had not pleased him one bit. He hoped that provoking him would loosen his tongue.

  However, Bousquet remained silent and stared sullenly into the distance.

  “Very well you can remain silent if you wish but I warn you that by doing so it will not be in your favour,” said Lafarge.

  Bousquet shrugged h
is shoulders, pulled a packet of cigarettes and a gold lighter from his trouser pocket – surprising Lafarge as he thought such valuables would have been removed from the prisoners -- and lit one.

  Lafarge clicked his tongue and opened the thick file he had brought with him, withdrawing the photograph of Fayette and Bousquet, but shielded it from the prisoner for the moment.

  “What were your relations with the prison guard Fayette?” asked Lafarge.

  Bousquet blew smoke rings and adopted a look of being bored.

  “He doesn’t mean anything to me,” said Bousquet his tone clipped.

  Lafarge raised his eyebrows and jutted his chin towards Bousquet in a dismissive gesture designed to irritate him.

  “Really his name means nothing to you at all?” asked Lafarge sounding suitably surprised.

  Bousquet raised his head and for the first time stared at Lafarge, no warmth whatsoever emanating from his eyes.

  “Should he? Unless he was on my wing I would not have come into contact with him,” he said.

  Lafarge shrugged and pushed the photograph across the table while keeping his eyes fixed on Bousquet to register if there was a glint of recognition.

  Bousquet stared at the photograph and pouted, Lafarge thought he caught a hint of a smile but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. However, there was a look of pride regained, momentarily, when Bousquet looked up.

  “That proves you knew him Bousquet so there is no point lying. However, I guess lying is second nature to you so why break the habit. Nevertheless I’m surprised you deny knowing someone who was caught on camera with you at one of your proudest moments,” said Lafarge sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

  Bousquet didn’t look upset by the remark, instead he laughed mirthlessly.

  “I said he doesn’t mean anything to me, which if you weren’t in such a rush to convict me for everything Lafarge you would have understood the context of my answer,” said Bousquet reveling in putting the Chief Inspector at a disadvantage.

  “Yes of course I knew him, some Marseille hoodlum whose overzealousness led to some unsavoury scenes when we were carrying out an important joint operation with our German friends and allies. Then Marseille has always lacked the finesse and subtlety of Parisian life, the same goes for the people, well most of them,” added Bousquet smoothly.

  Lafarge refused to rise to the bait. Bousquet may have felt he had scored points against him but he would regret what he had said for Lafarge had noted down his remarks and he would pass it onto the prosecution. They would add to the weight of evidence there must be against him. Calling Germans friends and allies would not sit well with the court, even if some of the judges had sat during The Occupation.

  “I believe Fayette did seek you out here. The man was desperate for money and you of all people he would have thought could provide him with help,” said Lafarge.

  “You can think all that you like Lafarge but it simply did not happen. It wasn’t in Fayette’s interests to show he knew me. Think about it, would you no matter how desperate you are contact someone who could finger you for what are now classified as crimes and which could lead to the death penalty,” said Bousquet.

  “Well he had become an alcoholic and he wasn’t by all accounts thinking very clearly, so yes I believe he would have gone to any lengths to obtain the money to get him back to Marseille,” said Lafarge.

  “Well like I say he didn’t approach me. So I am sorry Lafarge if you were hoping to pin your father’s murder on me you have failed miserably,” said Bousquet leaning back in his chair and lighting another cigarette.

  Lafarge wanted to erase the smug look on Bousquet’s face but realised that unless they caught Vandamme and the third man there would be no way of connecting them. For the moment he had circumstantial evidence but Bousquet was flatly denying any contact between them. For one of the few times in their fractious relationship Lafarge grudgingly conceded Bousquet was probably telling the truth.

  However, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so.

  “I’m not convinced Bousquet. I sat in this room with my father just before he died and he implied to me that unless he testified on behalf of Laval he had been threatened with a violent death,” said Lafarge.

  “Well he didn’t testify, which I’m pleased about as it salvaged some honour, and he was murdered. So obviously it doesn’t look very good for you or Laval. If you add up my father’s statement, the threat, the lack of testimony, the photograph of you and Fayette, the latter being implicated in the plot, and the murder then a conviction is likely. No matter how much you protest,” said Lafarge.

  “In fact a little twisting here and there and some surprise fingerprints being discovered on crucial evidence and hey you’re in front of the firing squad! Well you know the procedure all too well Bousquet from your inglorious days as head of the French police.

  “Now for Laval well it doesn’t matter and he will be executed without a second trial. Another murder charge for you probably doesn’t mean a lot either as you have thousands to answer for but it will accelerate the speed with which you are brought to trial,” added Lafarge.

  Bousquet shook his head and ran a hand through his smoothed back black hair.

  “You’re right Lafarge it doesn’t matter to Laval and has nothing to do with his impending execution. Because neither he nor I were in any way involved in your father’s murder. We didn’t cry either when we heard about it,” said Bousquet a cruel smile spreading across his lips.

  “As for you fitting me up for the crime, I don’t think so! You’re many things Lafarge, none of them good, but you’re a prig when it comes to the job and not bending the rules. For once you will be helping me although of course not willingly and that must really make you angry,” added Bousquet, who was now gloating.

  Lafarge would have liked to punch him but restrained himself.

  “Well condemned men of the ilk of you and Laval will take satisfaction from the miseries of others,” said Lafarge.

  “Condemned? I haven’t even been tried yet Lafarge and you are already counting out the bullets for the firing squad! Just because I have remained loyal, unlike some, to Laval does not make me guilty,” said Bousquet.

  “I plan to sit up with Laval on the eve of his execution. I obtained special permission from Vaillant, who is a humane man unlike you who come here to level ludicrous accusations based solely on your burning antipathy towards me.

  “If I was feeling in a similar frame of mind I could start on the convenient deaths of Von Dirlinger and Mathilde, not forgetting what started it all off that of Marguerite Suchet. But there are others who are in a better position than I am and better qualified who can pursue you over those.”

  Lafarge shrugged the threat aside, it was meaningless and in any case if there was anyone who hated Bousquet more than he did it was de Chastelain. Still it was good to be forewarned in case they did form an unlikely alliance, no matter how fanciful the thought was.

  “Right I think if that is all Lafarge I would like to go and see how Laval is. He needs comforting and I would rather spend time with a friend in need than with a vindictive man like you,” said Bousquet getting to his feet and turning his back on Lafarge.

  “Be my guest Bousquet, I wouldn’t bet on anyone being around to hold your hand on the eve of your execution. No I am hoping plenty of the phantoms of those you consigned to death will haunt you to the end,” said Lafarge.

  Lafarge’s comment brought Bousquet to a halt, although he didn’t turn round. However, as he reached out for the door knob Lafarge noticed his hand was shaking noticeably.

  Lafarge smiled for this had made the journey out to Fresnes worthwhile. Behind the bravura Bousquet was scared. That at least might come as some consolation to the relatives of his thousands of victims. It certainly did to Lafarge.

  ***

  Junot was in a cheerful mood when Lafarge finally reached the Defence Ministry. The traffic had been uncommonly heavy on his way back into Pari
s. It suggested the black market was doing a roaring trade in petrol, as it was still rationed and military vehicles, ambulances etcetera were given priority.

  Lafarge tossed Junot his hip flask which he immediately regretted doing as with the poor fellow having just the one arm it made it impossible for him to catch it, although he made a good fist of it.

  Lafarge apologised for his gaffe.

  “Don’t worry I’ve been called worse things and asked to do impossible tasks just so a senior officer could have a good laugh in front of others,” said Junot bending down to pick up the flask.

  “I can imagine! These generals are frightfully good at picking on the weak but not so courageous when it comes to leading men into battle or devising tactics that might serve their troops better,” said Lafarge.

  “Yes well not really for me to say Chief Inspector on that score. I’m grateful they found a job for me with the state I’m in,” he said diplomatically while wiping his face with a handkerchief as some of the cognac had escaped his lips.

  Lafarge grunted and although keen to he didn’t think it was the time to be asking how he came to be so severely wounded.

  “Right well sorry I can’t stay for very long but I’ve got yet another beastly day ahead of me. So can you encapsulate for me what you discerned of the soldiers I asked you to look into? That is if you found anything at all,” said Lafarge taking his first drop of the day which at 11 in the morning was quite restrained for him.

  Junot broke into a beaming smile which cast a different glow on his face. His blue eyes twinkled and Lafarge saw that he must have been quite a success with women, what with his blond hair, firm jaw and aside from his missing limbs an athletic figure. Lafarge reproached himself again for being so patronising towards Junot, for who was to say he wasn’t still breaking hearts.

  “Well judging by the look on your face Captain Junot you have been very successful!” said Lafarge smiling warmly at the officer.