The Haunted Detective

by Pirate Irwin

  Lafarge would have laughed but instead he wheeled round and looked upon Levau’s corpse again, wishing he would show some sign of life and he had been imagining his injuries when he had his face pressed down on him.

  Sadly there was no way Levau would be riding shotgun for him again. He was certainly dead and the only consolation was that a quick stripping of his clothes and he was already prepared for Durand’s professional assessment.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for Levau,” said Durand.

  “It happened pretty quickly. The other guy, I guess he must have been a detective, went down first and then Levau fired off two bullets but this man was simply a far better shot.”

  Lafarge gulped and breathed in deeply.

  “I’m afraid I’m partly to blame for this Frederic. Levau wasn’t trying to kill the man, Vandamme as we know him, as I told him we needed him alive. He murdered my father and probably two other men in the past two weeks and without him we wouldn’t know who ordered him to commit the murders,” said Lafarge.

  “Levau was a crack shot so I can only surmise he aimed for Vandamme’s arms or shoulder and sadly he missed. Christ the one time his shooting comes up short, although it says more about the quality of our bloody guns than his accuracy.”

  Durand patted Lafarge on the shoulder and left him to go and check on Alliot. However, he returned shaking his head.

  “Well two corpses to cut up before I go home. I was going to see Enfants tonight too,” he said sadly.

  Lafarge wasn’t going to make things worse for his friend by telling him how good it was.

  “So what did you give Vandamme then? And how soon will he be in a state to be interrogated?” asked Lafarge, who thought the longer the better it will be for the murderer as he was likely to have a torrid time in the Quai having added two policemen’s scalps to his burgeoning belt of kills.

  “Oh I gave him just a mild sedative. However, the great thing is it is instantaneous in sending someone to sleep. Sometimes I look at you and think you should have a constant supply,” replied Durand grinning although Lafarge detected a note of seriousness to his remark.

  “This killer will be able to answer your questions by the end of the evening I would suggest. However, I would recommend you treat him with due care. The sedative can have an effect on the brain and too much shall we say jostling could do some damage,” added Durand.

  “I’ll remember that thanks. I will have to tell the others too in case they are not quite so delicate in the way they treat him,” said Lafarge, who wasn’t certain he would be allowed to interrogate Vandamme given not only had he killed his partner but also his father.

  Durand nodded and asked Lafarge if he would help him carry Alliot and place him on the neighbouring slab to Levau.

  “You don’t have any of your assistants to do this,” asked Lafarge rather plaintively, not judging it to be proper he should have to attend to his dead colleagues in such a manner. It was bad enough seeing their corpses.

  “I’m sorry but with strict budget limits I usually have to send them home before 6. I only stay as my morbid fascination with the human body and the different ways of killing someone is not yet exhausted. Plus they have families. I have had none since my wife died six years ago,” said Durand.

  “Did you talk with Vandamme before Levau showed up?” he asked him after they’d completed the task of carrying the thickset corpse of Alliot to the slab.

  Durand shook his head.

  “He suddenly appeared in the room. I sensed there was something not right about him, that he wasn’t a detective or a relative who had got lost. He had this look about him, an expression on his face which was taut and determined.

  “I shouted out, in case one of the assistants had not yet gone home, and asked what he wanted. He came closer and closer, asked me if I was Frederic Durand to which I said yes, and started to pull something from inside his jacket.

  “It was at this point Levau and his partner entered the room and the rest you know.

  “What I would like to know is why this man came for me? Is he disenchanted with my work? Did I inadvertently kill one of his relatives? If so I’d be hard-pressed to recall one such incident,” said Durand.

  Lafarge shook his head.

  “No Frederic none of the above apply. You remember that story you told me about the firing squad?”

  Durand nodded.

  “Well bizarre as it may sound to you and your coldly applied logic to human behaviour, honed on decades of tending to dead bodies I might add which makes you singularly unqualified in my opinion, the men on that detail and anyone connected to it have been systematically murdered over the past 10 years,” said Lafarge.

  Durand stepped back visibly shocked.

  “How on earth would he have been able to track me down? One of the reasons for hiding away down here in the bowels that open into Hell is to be as anonymous as is possible,” said Durand.

  Lafarge shrugged his shoulders for he was at a total loss as to the answer. He reluctantly took his hat off to the third man for finding out the information, which suggested he or she had a highly-placed informant or someone inside the police force had been loose with their tongue.

  Durand was not a name that would appear in the newspapers, certainly at the moment there were no high profile murder cases reported on in court as most of the criminal proceedings were dedicated to the likes of Laval and his acolytes. Newspapers weren’t immune from the parlous economic situation, so many kept the news to a minimum.

  “I hope that Vandamme will enlighten us on that,” said Lafarge, his tone more optimistic than he felt as a cold killer like the one lying at his feet usually gave little away as they lacked any human empathy.

  “Let me know won’t you Gaston? I don’t know whether I’m more angry at him for making me miss ‘Enfants’ or that he had come here to kill me,” said Durand drily.

  Lafarge smiled at the older man’s effort at dark humour, even if his former partner was lying dead beside them. He hoped Levau too would have enjoyed the humorous aside.

  Vandamme started to stir and Lafarge bent down to slap him on his cheeks to bring him back to full consciousness quicker. He looked bleary-eyed and confused but once he’d tried to put his hands to his face and rub his eyes only to find they were manacled his features clouded over and he scowled at Lafarge.

  He writhed around trying to work his hands free but those old iron handcuffs were thankfully more effective than the service guns provided to Lafarge and his colleagues.

  “Tough being the prisoner and not the gaoler isn’t it Vandamme? You’re a lucky boy that neither myself nor Professor Durand are as cowardly as you and murder people with no chance of fighting back,” said Lafarge, who admitted to himself he was stretching the point with regard to him in that statement.

  Vandamme flashed a look of utter hatred back at them both, but neither Lafarge nor Durand took the slightest bit of notice.

  “Gaston have you had a Damascene conversion?” asked Durand in jocular fashion.

  Lafarge looked askance at him.

  “Well you haven’t offered me a nip of your cognac since I saved your life. I find that most ungrateful of you,” said Durand.

  Lafarge laughed.

  “You’ll have to forgive me Frederic. I would have offered you liberal doses but I left the hip flask with a fine young captain at the Ministry of Defence, and this excuse for a human being took my emergency reserve and dripped it into my eyes,” replied Lafarge, thinking what the hell he would do without his hip flasks for the rest of the evening.

  “Ah then it is just as well I store some in my little hole over there,” he said wandering off to retrieve it.

  They shared a few decent gulps before Lafarge decided it was time to accompany his prisoner back to the Quai and leave Durand to conduct his post mortems on Alliot and Levau.

  Thinking of the loss of Levau prompted him to kick Vandamme violently on the hip. He squealed in pain and then Lafarge lif
ted him equally aggressively onto his feet before shoving him in the back towards the door, wishing Durand a good evening.

  Without Levau, the only partner he had really enjoyed working with despite their difficulties of late, his workload had also got a lot heavier.

  He would have to leave Vandamme cooling his heels in the cell whilst he argued his case with Pinault. Then if he was successful he would still have to go to Antoinette’s and ask Rochedebois why he had lied to him and his mother.

  He dearly hoped that Lucien would give him a convincing explanation because the last thing he needed at the moment was for his family to become even more fragmented with the funeral of his father looming.

  ***

  As it turned out Lafarge hit a minor win streak. Very minor when compared to losing his partner, but if one was of the school of thought of moving on and going forwards from a tragic incident then it was positive.

  Pinault agreed to allow Lafarge to interrogate Vandamme the next morning, provided he was also there. He had said it was not a difficult decision to make given the lack of ability of the majority of the detectives now on the force. Lafarge decided to take that as a compliment, in any case it was far more important he had control of the investigation and Pinault had rubber-stamped that.

  His short run extended to arriving at the family apartment to discover Antoinette retreating to her bedroom, ‘I’ve got a terrible headache darling’, leaving him alone with Lucien.

  His stepbrother looked a bit disheveled, his check shirt was not tucked into his fawn corduroys and his unruly hair needed a good addressing with a hair brush. He also appeared to be ill at ease. Lafarge thought perhaps he and Antoinette had had a row.

  Understandable in the circumstances as Lucien had yet to land this job with Boussac and might by now be relying on handouts from Antoinette. He would be due back pay but it was becoming a bad-humoured joke from those who had been POWs there would need to be another war for the Government to come up with the money.

  Lucien poured them both a decent sized glass of cognac and sat heavily down on the sofa, Lafarge preferring to sit in one of the armchairs, which unlike his sad piece of furniture were comfortable.

  They exchanged small talk for a few minutes, Lucien saying he had been contacted by Boussac’s deputy and he was confident he would be in a job by the end of the month.

  Lafarge listened more than he spoke, preferring to impart as little as possible about the investigation until he felt it was the right time to do so. He would have preferred to have had Antoinette there so he could tell them both that Vandamme had been arrested for the murder of his father, but he would leave it to Lucien to pass on the information.

  “So Gaston what brings you here at this late hour? It must be important for you to break off the investigation to spend time with your poor family,” said Lucien, trying but failing to sound light-hearted.

  Lafarge glanced at the beautiful Louis XV clock on the mantelpiece and saw it was indeed late, a quarter to midnight.

  “I’m pleasantly surprised to find you at home Lucien. I would have placed long odds on you being here. But it is great you are because it was more you I wanted to talk to,” said Lafarge.

  Lucien’s eyes flickered, to Lafarge it looked like with alarm. However, even though it was just for an instant it added to the impression Lafarge had of a far from relaxed Lucien, who was anxious about something.

  “Oh you misjudge me Gaston. I’m a changed man since returning from my German holiday, in bed by midnight and sober as a judge.if such a thing exists. You’d know more about that than me though,” said Lucien.

  Lafarge smiled thinly and thought Lucien seriously took him for a fool if he believed he could sell him that line. Or perhaps he could concede that it was an effort at humour, but the remark didn’t sit well with Lucien’s behavior so far.

  “So Lucien I was hoping you could explain why you were a bit loose with the facts surrounding your return to Paris, a bit like your reference to judges just now,” said Lafarge hoping he had couched it in such a way Lucien didn’t think he was accusing him of being a liar.

  Rochedebois looked furtive and stroked his chin.

  “Ah Gaston I can see why you are a Chief Inspector, nothing escapes you!” said Rochedebois grinning.

  “However, it is a bad habit to have to check everything even those closest to you tell you. I’m sorry to say old chap that this time you have come up short. I was on the train that came in the day I showed up here.

  “Why would I possibly wish to drift round Paris when I have a bed waiting for me here? Plus I had a doting mother who has been going out of her mind with worry for years as to whether I was alive or not.

  “I don’t know where you got your information from Gaston but as soon as I had passed through the station and undergone the checks regarding verifying my name and the camps I’d been in I had a quick drink and came straight here.”

  Lafarge bit his lip and touched the tip of his nose with his index finger, and wondered whether Aimee had got it half right in that Frenay had been there but with a different group. After all he was responsible for the return of the POWs and deportees and thus part of his duties was to go to the various stations and welcome them home publicly.

  “My informant is adamant she was on the same train and she saw Frenay shaking your hand as she was ushered out as quickly as possible so the cameras didn’t film her or her companions. She says that was a fortnight before you claim to have come back,” said Lafarge staring into Rochedebois eyes.

  Lafarge couldn’t quite work out why he had just told a blatant lie. For Aimee had said nothing of the sort about Frenay shaking Rochedebois’ hand. However, Lafarge had a gut feeling she had been telling the truth about the train and the only way to induce his step-brother into conceding that was by exaggerating the circumstances.

  Rochedebois looked annoyed and swilled the liquid remaining in his glass around, remaining silent for several minutes.

  “All I can say to that Gaston is I don’t recall any women being on our train, unless they were kept apart from us for some reason. Well I can think of one which is they didn’t want us horny young men to get too familiar with the fairer sex after years of being deprived of them,” said Rochedebois.

  “However, I can categorically state that from our starting point to Gare de l’Est I was not aware of any women on the train, certainly not in a group. I think your female informant has allowed her imagination to run away with her,” said Rochedebois.

  Lafarge rubbed his chin and drank a bit more of the cognac which warmed him up no end, the fire having gone out. He was reluctant to press too hard lest Rochedebois become enraged at being interrogated about what could very well be a mix up of dates.

  “You would have noticed this group of women Lucien because they were survivors from Ravensbruck,” said Lafarge.

  Rochedebois nodded his head and chewed his bottom lip, screwing up his eyes so they became slits, as if he was trying to dig deep and recall again the passengers on his train.

  “Hmm well I think I would have noticed a group of female scarecrows even if I wouldn’t have given them a second look the state they were in,” said Rochedebois with a disgusted look on his face which if it was for comical effect fell on stony ground with Lafarge.

  “Aside from their physical state think Gaston how mixed up they must have been after what they’d been put through. Their minds wouldn’t be clear at all least of all over what date and who else was on the train.

  “I mean come on dear chap who are you going to believe a Jewess or if not that a girl who was stupid enough to join the Resistance and was out of her depth and got caught.

  “If it is the former well she has more wealth than brains and the latter frankly was stupid before and nothing done to her in the camp will have improved her intelligence, far from it, whatever was left was probably beaten out of her,” added Rochedebois all but sneering.

  Lafarge bristled at Rochedebois’ patronising and frankly ridic
ulous analysis of the inmates at Ravensbruck. He set aside his glass and steepled his fingers together tapping the tips of them, he always found it a very calming gesture.

  He knew what he was going to say but he wanted to deliver it at a moment Rochedebois was slightly off guard. He rose and took both their glasses to the drinks cabinet and filled them generously with cognac.

  He handed Rochedebois his glass and as he took it Lafarge looking down on him said: “You weren’t wearing the same clothes in the film as when you arrived here.”

  Rochedebois’ hand shook slightly, Lafarge could tell as the liquid in the glass slopped around. His eyes darted from those of Lafarge’s to observing the wall over the Chief Inspector’s shoulder and his Adams Apple bobbed up and down.

  “Furthermore Lucien you were far more haggard than when you turned up here. It’s all on film if you need confirmation and as far as I’m aware those ‘loonies’ as you like to allude to them from Ravensbruck weren’t in charge of Pathe and its camera,” said Lafarge smoothly.

  Rochedebois licked his lips either to moisten them or as a nervous gesture, Lafarge couldn’t tell which.

  “I suggest Gaston you seek confirmation from Frenay. I’m certain he will vouch for my story,” said Rochedebois.

  “Very well Lucien you can count on that. It is best to get such anomalies resolved even as you say from those closest to one, trust is an important commodity nowadays, its value ever greater as there was a very short supply during the Occupation,” said Lafarge seeking to draw a line under the conversation.

  He was satisfied because he had rattled Lucien and while he had not folded he had been far from convincing in his response. However, he knew if Frenay supported Lucien’s version then a visit to Pathe would be required if he felt it was necessary to allay his suspicions.

  The troubling thing for Lafarge was Lucien must be hiding something very dark if he was persisting in his story he had returned the day he said he did. He couldn’t see why else he would lie about a lost fortnight.