The Haunted Detective

by Pirate Irwin

  “A gambler always has a final card up his sleeve. So I am surprised you overlooked this, perhaps because in your eagerness to get us to the guillotine you dismissed the possibility I would play that card or in this indecent haste to judge us and execute us you thought I wouldn’t have the time to organise my rearguard action,” added Rochedebois his tone becoming increasingly triumphant.

  Lafarge shrugged and coolly poured himself another glass.

  “You know Gaston I actually enjoyed fighting for the Germans, the camaraderie with the other French, the discipline and the thrill of fighting one’s way out of a tight corner,” said Rochedebois.

  “I didn’t believe in all their claptrap and Le Grand Jules and his ranting, usually if we were lucky enough to have a radio we would turn it off when he started. Les Schleus didn’t appreciate that very much but they needed us so they let it ride.

  “Now Berlin that was one hell of a firefight I’m telling you Gaston! I really didn’t think I was going to get out of that one, none of us did,” he said laughing.

  Lafarge listened patiently, playing with the rim of his glass.

  “We gave the Bolsheviks a bloody good fight, more of us and we could perhaps have held out like they did at Stalingrad,” he said his eyes burning with enthusiasm as he recalled the battle.

  “I took out over 10 tanks in one day! It was crazy! You should have heard the Russkies screaming as they burnt alive inside the tank. Savages they deserved it too. Of course if any emerged alive and unscathed from their wrecks we shot them.

  “If they came out burning we didn’t waste a bullet on them. The flames from their bodies and the tanks also helped us fix our sights on the next target.

  “Brutal I know but then this was not a war of knights – Teutonic or any kind despite Himmler’s nonsense -- and pure ideologies. As for the Aryan race, that’s a bloody joke. If their leaders were a reflection of that then they truly pulled the blinkers over their countrymen’s eyes.

  “Hitler pinned the Iron Cross on me but there was no conversation. The only one I spent some time with, Bormann, was a pathetic creature, he wet himself, completely drunk. Without his Führer he was lost, but because he still had rank in that crumbling evil regime he had to be escorted out of the city.

  “Him and two other jerks, a Doctor I think he was called Stumpfegger, evil looking man, and the leader of the Hitler Youth Axmann, were entrusted to us. Bormann said he had papers on him that would ensure France would change sides and reinstall Petain.

  “Barazer de Lannurien and I laughed at that. Bormann looked affronted and asked what was so amusing. We just shook our heads and said let’s get going. Bormann grumbled away whilst we headed in the direction we’d been told to take.

  “Bormann and the doctor held us back, the first sound of shells coming in our direction they lost it completely and started digging at the rubble around us as if they would find a magic tunnel to take them away from the danger.

  “We slapped them round their faces. Bormann looked stunned by such insubordination and went for his pistol. However, he’d dropped it somewhere along the way and bashfully patted me on the shoulder and tried to make out all was well.

  “I knew it wasn’t and I said to Barazer de Lannurien the next time he loses it I’m going to shoot him. That Gaston is exactly what happened. I put a bullet into Bormann’s fat drunken face, admittedly he wasn’t going to last very long after taking a hit from some shrapnel. There were no other witnesses apart from Barazer de Lannurien, who I’d saved prior to that by pulling him away from the German tank. The doctor was dead and Axmann had disappeared.

  “Bormann pleaded with me to help him, his pig like eyes searching my face for some form of reassurance. I smiled and removed the papers he valued so much from where he’d secreted them between his trousers and his underpants. Then I shot him,” said Rochedebois, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face, before bending down to try and adjust the leg irons.

  Lafarge was stunned. This was a detail Barazer de Lannurien hadn’t divulged and one, one would have thought, worth mentioning. Not that killing Hitler’s wingman and shadow would have made any difference to his sentence, but for the history books it would be dynamite. That is if it was true, which given Rochedebois’ record was far from certain.

  “Why all the lies Lucien?” asked Lafarge, feeling he had had enough of the all action hero story.

  Rochedebois gestured towards the bottle of cognac and lit a cigarette. Lafarge changed his mind and decided to share one last glass with him.

  Rochedebois thanked him and swirled the liquid round his glass before taking a swig.

  “I’ll miss this,” said Rochedebois sadly.

  Lafarge rubbed his chin not quite sure how to respond. He didn’t want the meeting to descend into maudlin sentimentality.

  “Well I’m sure there are many things you will miss, not just cognac,” said Lafarge.

  Rochedebois laughed.

  “No you fool I will miss these moments shared between us. That is what I will most regret, if it ends tomorrow,” said Rochedebois.

  Lafarge gritted his teeth and held his tongue for he wouldn’t miss such moments of camaraderie. He couldn’t comprehend the insouciance of his stepbrother. However, he wasn’t going to go over old ground, if he didn’t grasp the seriousness of his crimes then he wasn’t going to be disabused of it by Lafarge.

  “So I ask you again why the lies?” asked Lafarge.

  “Why are you so interested to know? I lied, I murdered and I’m meant to die for it,” said Rochedebois delivering it in such a matter of fact manner it took all Lafarge’s limited self-restraint not to attack him.

  He couldn’t believe that even now Rochedebois thought his behaviour not abnormal, perhaps charitably he had become inured to death in the forests of Pomerania and the ruins of Berlin. However, if so it was no one else’s fault but his, he had chosen to fight for the enemy. Any subsequent fallout was his responsibility.

  “Well so be it Lucien. You were never one to delve too deeply into your or other people’s feelings,” said Lafarge.

  “Profanity rather than profundity was more your line. You weren’t someone who thought about the welfare of others always your own came as a priority.

  “Your selfishness has been your only constant companion just as you have behaved to the last.”

  Rochedebois reached for the bottle, but Lafarge pulled it away, poured a glass for himself and put the cork back in. An angry look flashed across Rochedebois’s face, but then he shrugged his shoulders and leant back in his chair, resorting to lighting a cigarette.

  “I’m glad you entertain such a high opinion of me, Gaston. If I’d known what you really thought of me I would have taken care of you myself,” said Rochedebois, the antipathy and viciousness in his tone making Lafarge go cold.

  Stripped of the bonhomie and charm Lafarge at last could envision Rochedebois the murderer, and how he would have enjoyed the moment in disposing of Philipperon, Neveu and Fayette. He wondered if he looked and sounded like that when he had killed his victims. He shuddered at the thought and decided it was time to bring the final hammer down on the meeting.

  “Pity is Lucien not what I thought of you but that you didn’t know yourself better and realise what you had turned into,” said Lafarge.

  Rochedebois shrugged.

  “Anyway back to you behaving selfishly to the last,” said Lafarge.

  “Yes please tell me, I’m intrigued,” said Rochedebois leaning towards the desk.

  “You have tried to manipulate a last minute reprieve, without including either your mother or your former comrade-in-arms,” said Lafarge.

  Rochedebois smiled.

  “Wouldn’t you do the same? Wouldn’t anyone if they were facing the guillotine?” said Rochedebois.

  Lafarge admitted he had a point, but Rochedebois’ pattern of behaviour had remained consistent throughout his life. He always came first.

  He withdrew from a drawer wher
e he had placed it a folder and pushed it across the desk towards Rochedebois.

  “You can read this while you await the guillotine. Or perhaps you have already read it,” said Lafarge.

  Rochedebois looked quizzically at Lafarge, picked up the folder and opened it. He flicked through the twenty or so pages and then looked up at Lafarge with a smile on his face.

  “So you found it. Interesting reading isn’t it? Caused a few ripples throughout the administration I imagine,” said Rochedebois smugly.

  Lafarge pursed his lips and steepled his hands in front of his nose. He had found it in the search of Rochedebois’ room, the papers that his stepbrother had stolen from the dying Bormann.

  “I guess you’re not high enough to have me reprieved, you’re here to do a deal to take back to them and save Frenay’s neck,” said Rochedebois.

  “A little messenger boy. Must be galling they asked the son of one of my victims to carry out their sordid little dealings,” he added maliciously.

  Lafarge gulped down a final drop of cognac and stared straight into Rochedebois eyes.

  “Well you got one thing right Lucien. I am here because I’m the son of one of your victims,” said Lafarge evenly.

  Rochedebois’ grin tightened, he screwed up his eyes and rubbed his chin nervously.

  “However, it is not to do a deal with you,” he snorted derisively.

  “Yes the papers are compromising for Frenay, the suggestion that he was in the Nazis pocket and had been for some time. However, I have been apprised that the incident that took place during the war where confidential documents were left by one of his men and unfortunately ended up in the wrong hands, he had explained at the time that it was just a terrible error.

  “Now of course these papers lend a different tone to the incident but given that the Nazis were known for forging documents and Bormann is dead, thanks to you, there is no way of telling if this is fact or fiction.

  “Thus Frenay has been given the benefit of the doubt and in return he has resigned.”

  Rochedebois looked startled and his eyes tore themselves away from Lafarge’s and glanced in the direction of the window, making the Chief Inspector think for a moment that perhaps he had slipped off the leg irons and was going to try and make a desperate break for it. However, using an excuse of stretching his legs, or pretending to rose and saw to his relief they were still firmly attached around Rochedebois’ legs.

  “There are other Nazi leaders who are still alive and could attest to them being real,” said Rochedebois despairingly.

  Lafarge shrugged and waved his hands dismissively.

  “Such appeals do not exist in the French legal world Lucien. They are not going to await an answer from Nuremberg on whether Hermann Goering or Ribbentrop was cognizant of these papers,” said Lafarge.

  “In any case there is little likelihood they are going to occupy themselves with the fate of a Frenchman back in Paris. You should know that as a fellow sociopath the last thing one would do is help another.”

  Lafarge sat back and looked with satisfaction at Rochedebois go in an instant from looking smug to totally crestfallen. He put his head in his hands and his shoulders started shaking.

  Lafarge rose put on his coat, picked up his hat and moved towards the door.

  “Bousquet’s got something on you Gaston,” said Rochedebois snivelling.

  Lafarge stopped. He’d half expected this. Anyone who spent enough time with Bousquet was bound to get a vituperous account of his relations with Lafarge and there would be no better captive audience than the man who had murdered his father.

  “He says you murdered three people, at least three. So don’t make yourself too comfortable, you could be joining me soon enough,” said Rochedebois.

  Lafarge doubted that very much. Bousquet had the blood of many others on his hands and he would be better off paying attention to his own defence for the way things were going he would soon be on trial and with Laval his mentor having been executed it didn’t bode well at all for him.

  “Well Lucien there’s a cheery thought to keep you going through the last few hours of your life. That should take your mind off what lies ahead tomorrow watching first your mother go and then preparing yourself for the blade,” said Lafarge.

  “Sorry you look surprised! Oh yes I wasn’t going to tell you and leave it as a final surprise, but really you shouldn’t have provoked me.

  “Your mother has been granted special dispensation to be your companion tonight. You and she will be accompanying each other to the guillotine.

  “Rather thoughtful really don’t you think. She did bring you into the world, more’s the pity for a lot of us, and so best for her son to watch her depart this world rather than the other way round.

  “Too many adults have seen their children die unnecessarily in the past few years, so why not redress the balance a little and get the child to watch their parent die first. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you after arranging the death of the man who regarded you as his son.

  “Rather poetic or tragedian the three of you dying at the same prison.

  “The Oedipus Complex, psychologists and their like will have a field day with your case for years to come! So Lucien you will live on, just not in the way you would have liked to have done.

  “I wish you bon voyage Lucien.”

  With that Lafarge opened the door to Vaillant’s office stood aside to let the prison guard in and left with Rochedebois’s screams and sobs pursuing him down the corridor.

  Was he upset? Hell no! He had not felt this happy for a very long time.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “So Doctor I wanted to speak to you about a delicate matter which will affect Pierre,” said Lafarge.

  Lafarge was sitting with Aimee and Pierre’s doctor Morillon in the latter’s spacious and bright office at the hospital.

  He had told Aimee about Pierre’s unfortunate incident with Berenice as with the case solved she had the right to know that there could be one significant barrier to him accompanying her to Germany to pick up Bernard.

  Aimee was making extraordinary progress, the way she had reacted sympathetically and not shrugged off his story about Pierre and Berenice as nothing compared to her ordeal illustrated that.

  She looked quite stunning with her blonde hair brushed back from her forehead and spreading liberally down over her tweed jacket, though it was the velvet hat with tartan fabric and feathers designed by Gilbert Orcel that really took the eye.

  Lafarge wished that it was indeed that which Morillon paid attention to but he seemed to spend a large part of their meeting staring at Aimee’s tight beige jodhpurs.

  Morillon, who to Lafarge’s eye was not bad looking for his age which he judged to be mid to late 50’s with sandy hair and grey eyes had a firm jaw, plus in keeping with his disciplined look he had an athletic figure,and didn’t lack for charm which was one of the reasons why the Chief Inspector liked him and was happy that Pierre was in his care.

  Morillon had also done his research as he had placed a bottle of cognac on the coffee table that they were seated around, rather than his desk which would have been rather too formal and austere for such a gathering.

  Morillon sat silently waiting for Lafarge to expand on his delicate situation. He explained in detail about Aimee and their boy Bernard, and with her permission had told the doctor the horrific circumstances surrounding the birth.

  Morillon looked deeply shocked and gave Aimee a sympathetic glance without overdoing it, which Lafarge and she appreciated.

  Lafarge had noticed that Aimee was repulsed by people who started fussing around her, all but tearing their hair out and performing the sign of the cross when they heard what she had gone through.

  She would often yell at them ‘I’m bloody alive aren’t I! I’m not a statue of the Virgin Mary!’ and if she was feeling particularly vexed she would say smoothly ‘My baby was not born of the Immaculate Conception my dear. I had to fuck for him to be born.’


  “So what I’ve come here to get from you Dr Morillon is an answer as to how Pierre will react,” said Lafarge.

  “Obviously his condition must have improved since he’s been in your care. However, I, or rather we, need to know would the arrival of Bernard provoke a similar reaction in him that the pregnancy of Berenice did?”

  Morillon steepled his fingers and leant forward resting his chin on them.

  “That is a very good question Chief Inspector and one probably best posed to Pierre,” he said.

  “However, I appreciate that you would prefer passing it by me first. Let me just say that Pierre has made extraordinary progress in the past few weeks. He has achieved this because he has come to terms with what he did.

  “Now I am of the opinion that he didn’t fire deliberately, I know that you think he knew what he was doing because the man who had looked after him was a Resistance leader and had taught him to shoot even though he was just a child.

  “He was still aware of right and wrong and he knew that Berenice was special to you. Yes you had had your problems, because he had been told you had disowned him and were an enemy. However, Berenice was present when he was rescued and would have earned his respect and trust.

  “The fact she was pregnant he claims he did not know so therefore we cannot give that as a reason for him killing her. No I think he pulled the trigger without realising properly what the result would be.

  “Therefore I don’t think that you bringing Bernard back will present any great problem. That is of course if you are planning to live as a family.

  “I imagine that is why the matter is so pressing,” he added looking at both of them, though allowing his gaze to rest longer on Aimee.

  Lafarge and Aimee both laughed, for they hadn’t discussed their future plans at all. They had agreed on Lafarge going with her to Cologne so that the German couple were reassured that Bernard was going to be looked after by his parents. However, they had not yet decided if they were ready to live together on a full-time basis.