Lefebvre nodded, made a note, but did not pursue the matter. He continued in a mollifying tone:
“Now, I am afraid I must ask a few more questions of a personal nature. You might find these questions embarrassing, but I request that you answer them fully and frankly. May I proceed?”
The baroness controlled herself. “Yes, Monsieur, please continue.”
“How long have you been married to the baron?”
“Two years.”
“In that time, has he ever gone off unexpectedly with little or no notice?”
“He has, on occasion, but he always kept in touch. When I didn’t receive the expected telegram, I wired our home in Paris. A servant replied that he hadn’t seen the baron since we left for Aix-les-Bains.”
“When did you wire Paris and receive the reply?”
“I sent the telegram the evening of the twenty-fifth and received a reply the morning of the twenty-sixth.”
Lefebvre consulted his notes. “I see. I’ll summarize to make sure I have this down correctly. You made your report two days ago, the twenty-sixth. Based on the message you received from Bonnet, if your husband had wired you upon arrival in Paris, you ought to have received the telegram the evening of the twenty-fifth or on the morning of the twenty-sixth at the latest. You wired Paris on the twenty-fifth and received a reply the twenty-sixth. So you knew something was amiss on the twenty-sixth?”
“Yes, Monsieur. I was worried. Did I do right?”
“Yes, Madame. I believe under the circumstances going to the police was appropriate. Did you suspect foul play?”
She seemed flustered by his reference to “foul play.” “Why no, I was concerned, but I had no reason to believe . . . I didn’t think . . .” She stared at him without completing the sentence.
He noted her reaction and continued. “Well, that’s understandable, Madame. You had no reason to believe the worst. Now, have you contacted any of your husband’s business associates, friends, or acquaintances to see if they know his whereabouts?”
“No, do you think I should?”
Lefebvre felt like a dentist prodding a sensitive tooth. The baron was a naturalized citizen with close ties to South African mining interests. He knew the baron associated with prominent men of finance, wealthy diamond and gold merchants, as well as a few politicians. In addition, the baron gambled for high stakes among a fashionable sporting crowd that lived on the fringes of society. Such men usually frequented a posh maison de tolérance or kept a woman in town, and Lefebvre figured the baron was no exception.
He assumed the baroness wanted to avoid publicity. If she went around asking about her husband, the resulting gossip would spread throughout Parisian society and the matter would soon find its way into the newspapers. On the other hand, once he launched an investigation, it would be impossible to keep the matter quiet.
“For the time being, no. However, I request you provide us with a list of anyone you know who might have information relevant to this matter.” He paused before adding, “Forgive me, Madame, but that would include any relationships the baron might have that are of an intimate nature.”
The baroness frowned but did not hesitate to answer. “I understand, M. Lefebvre. I’ll provide you with the information you require. Is that all?”
“Yes, Madame, that’s all for now. This matter is at the stage of a preliminary investigation. So far, there’s no evidence of a crime. Nevertheless, the unexplained disappearance of a prominent citizen is cause for concern. There is also a matter of jurisdiction. The case was opened in Savoie. However, that is a technical issue, and we will certainly cooperate with M. Forestier until the appropriate primary jurisdiction is established. Now, I can send detectives out to question your servants later this afternoon. If necessary, my men will return tomorrow to complete the interviews.”
“Thank you, Monsieur. I’ll let the servants know.” She paused a moment before adding: “I suppose this will get into the newspapers?”
“I’m afraid so, but let’s be optimistic. Perhaps the baron will reappear shortly with a perfectly reasonable explanation. Unless you have more questions, there’s just one thing I need from you before you leave. Do you have a recent photograph of your husband?”
The baroness reached into her handbag and retrieved a carte de visite. She handed the portrait to Lefebvre. “Will this do?”
“Thank you; this will do splendidly. We will also need a detailed physical description, but I won’t detain you further. We can get that from other sources.” He rose from his chair and walked over to the baroness. “I bid you good day, Madame.”
Madame de Livet smiled wanly and took his extended hand. Lefebvre escorted her to her carriage. He watched the vehicle pull away from the curb, sighed, and lit a cigarette. Then he walked up the quay in the direction of the Pont Saint-Michel.
He paused near the bridge and took a moment to savor the bright blue sky and crisp, clean autumn air. Across the river, on the left embankment, the leaves on the shade trees were changing color, from green to red and golden hues. A steam whistle announced the approach of a tug hauling a barge; a steady stream of traffic flowed over the bridge from the Île de la Cité to the Boul’Mich. The everyday bustle and familiar sights had a soothing effect until his thoughts reverted to the case of the missing baron. “A well-connected parvenu gambler disappears along with a small fortune in banknotes stuffed into a traveling bag. Merde alors!” he muttered.
He tossed his cigarette butt into the Seine. Lefebvre returned to headquarters, climbed the staircase, and headed down the dark, musty corridor in the direction of his old cubbyhole.
Lefebvre glanced around his former office and was pleased to notice few if any changes. “Well, Étienne, how do you like having a little working space all to yourself? I’d say it’s an improvement over sharing that crowded, smoke-filled den with the other detectives.”
Inspector Legros smiled. “Thank you, Chief; I like it immensely. And as you can see, I’m keeping it neat, clean, and efficient.”
Lefebvre nodded approvingly. “How’s your workload these days?”
It’s a shit storm, Legros thought. “I’m managing all right. Do you have something new for me, Chief?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do. Have you heard of the Baron Le Noir de Livet?”
“Yes, Chief. People say he’s one of the richest men in Paris. He’s also well-known at the card tables and the racecourse.”
“That’s the gentleman. He and a bagful of money have gone missing somewhere near Aix-les-Bains. I’ve just come from a meeting with the baroness.”
“A missing persons’ case? Aren’t the local authorities handling it?”
“The baroness made a report to Inspector Forestier in Chambéry. Please take this down.” He paused for a moment to give Legros time to grab a pad and pencil. “I want you to wire Forestier. Tell him the baroness brought the matter to my attention. We’ll cooperate in the investigation and would appreciate any information he has in return.
“It’s still his case, as far as I’m concerned, but we should be actively involved. The baron might be in or near Paris. Of course, he could be anywhere now, alive or dead.
“As soon as you’ve sent the telegram, I want you to pick a good man and go to the de Livets’ to interview the servants. Here’s the address and the notes I took earlier. Review my notes, make a copy for yourself, and return the originals to me. Begin the questioning with the baron’s man, Eugene Bonnet. According to the baroness, he was the last person to see the baron in Aix-les-Bains. To start, ask him some routine questions about his background and employment history. Then ask if he saw the baron board the train. If so, at which station and at what time? Forestier should already have that information, but we can check that later.
“I made reference to a Gladstone bag filled with thousand-franc notes. Did the baron have the bag with him when he boarded the train? Ask Bonnet if he knows whether the baron was a winner or loser at the casino and at Prince Papkov’s party. If he won, God only
knows how much cash he had stuffed into the bag. Moreover, we need to get as much detail as we can from Bonnet about what went on from the time they left the casino until the baron boarded the train. People, places, actions, anything unusual.
“When you’re done with Bonnet, start questioning Manuela Otero, the baroness’s maid.” Lefebvre noticed Legros furiously scribbling to keep up with his chief’s instructions. “Pardon me, Étienne. Perhaps it’s better if we work together on this one. I know what I want to ask Bonnet and Otero. You can question the other servants. They remained in Paris, but you know how they talk among themselves. We might get a useful tidbit or two. And we’ll check to see if any of them have a record.”
Legros almost sighed with relief. “Thank you, Chief. Do you think this was an inside job?”
Lefebvre shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll say one thing about cases like this. Our national motto extols equality, but nothing’s equal when it comes to missing persons. Some poor bastard goes missing and no one cares much, except for his family and friends. But when a notable disappears, it can turn into a festival of shit. And in this case my wife and I are acquainted with the missing person.”
“I see; that complicates things, doesn’t it?”
Lefebvre shrugged. “It might.” He stroked his beard and pondered the problem for a moment. Then he said, “According to the baroness, the baron made a large withdrawal from the bank before he left for Aix-les-Bains. We need to follow up on that. Among other things, the bank should have a record of the serial numbers. That might be useful. We’ll also notify the railway police, if Forestier hasn’t done that already. They can pass a description of the baron and his Gladstone bag up and down the line and see if they can locate some witnesses.
“All right, Étienne, go send the telegram. When you’re done, meet me in my office and we’ll pay a call on the baroness.”
When Lefebvre returned to his office, the clerk said there was a man waiting in the outer hallway.
“Who is he and what does he want?”
“It’s Duroc, Monsieur. He says he has a message for you from Inspector Rousseau.”
Lefebvre immediately recognized the name. Duroc had left the brigade after he bungled a surveillance assignment in the Ménard case. He had since found a job with Rousseau in the political police.
“Very well,” Lefebvre said. “Send him in.”
Duroc entered the office, removed his bowler respectfully, and faced his former superior with a sheepish grin. “Good afternoon, M. Lefebvre. Permit me to congratulate you on your recent promotion to chief.”
“That’s thoughtful of you, Duroc, but I’m sure you’re not here to give me your felicitations. What do you want?”
Duroc reached into his coat pocket and removed an envelope, which he handed to Lefebvre.
“I have an urgent message for your eyes only from Inspector Rousseau, and I’ve been ordered to wait for a reply.”
Lefebvre opened the envelope and read the note:
Meet me in the usual place, tomorrow morning at five. Please confirm by reply to the messenger. Rousseau
He folded the letter and stared at Duroc. “Tell your boss I agree.”
Duroc bowed politely and left the office. Lefebvre sat silently for a moment before muttering, “I actually wanted this job.”
4
WHAT BONNET KNEW
Lefebvre and Legros took a fiacre to the baron’s mansion on the Avenue Montaigne. They drove up the front entrance driveway and parked under an arched portico. Lefebvre paid the driver and asked him to wait.
The detectives mounted the stairway, and Lefebvre rang the electric doorbell. They could hear footsteps resonating in the marble hallway. The massive oak doors swung open; a tall English footman with long side-whiskers greeted them. Lefebvre handed his card to the footman. The man examined the card before saying, “Please follow me, gentlemen.”
As they passed through the hallway, Lefebvre noticed some fine paintings by Bouguereau and Tissot, portrait busts by Nollekens, and several excellent examples of Sèvres. They continued on past white walls decorated with allegorical paintings and statuary niches in the Beaux Arts style; the vast antechamber sparkled with multicolored light filtering through stained-glass windows and lunettes in the high vaulted ceiling.
The footman halted, opened a door, and escorted the detectives into a salon, which Achille assumed was the main reception hall. “Please wait here, gentlemen,” the footman said. “Madame will be with you shortly.”
The oversize room was like a pharaoh’s crypt filled with treasures to be enjoyed in the god-king’s afterlife. There were no windows; dozens of Edison’s electric bulbs in chandeliers, sconces, and lamps lit the chamber with a warm, golden glow. The eclectic furnishings were many: Persian carpets with their intricately woven floral patterns; salon paintings in gilt frames like those in the hallways; a large marble mantelpiece; Empire vitrines cluttered with expensive bibelots; glittering blue and white Oriental porcelain and Sèvres that might have pleased Emperor Napoleon; Japanese screens with soaring cranes and floating blossoms; Louis Quinze furniture.
Legros’s eyes widened. “Whew,” he said with a whistle. “It’s like a little Versailles, isn’t it, Chief?”
Achille nodded, but he said nothing. He wondered if the baroness approved of all this ostentatious clutter. He could not help contrasting this place with Le Boudin’s shack in the Zone, filled with the chiffonier’s gleanings from the rubbish heaps of Paris.
A few minutes after the footman left, Mme de Livet entered the salon and greeted the detectives. Achille introduced Legros:
“This is Inspector Legros, Madame. He’ll be leading our investigation.”
The baroness exchanged greetings with Legros. Then she said, “I’ve notified all my servants. They are ready for you, except for Manuela. The poor girl’s quite ill with a fever, which I believe she caught at the spa. I’ve had the doctor in to see her. I’m afraid you’ll have to put off questioning her for a while.”
“That’s quite all right, Madame,” Achille replied. “We can interview her when she’s well. Now, I’ll begin with Bonnet, and M. Legros will question the other servants.”
The baroness took Legros to the kitchen, where the servants would appear, one at a time, for questioning. Achille waited in the salon for Bonnet, who arrived presently.
Achille pointed to a chair in the center of the room and told Bonnet to sit. He paced around the room without speaking to see how the manservant reacted. Bonnet remained calm. Achille got a good first impression of the man. He’s a cool one. Middle thirties, medium build, and very fit. There’s a scar on the right cheek, but no other prominent marks. The baron might use him as a bodyguard.
Achille stopped to the right of Bonnet, which made the man twist his head sideways and look up at the detective. The interrogation began with routine questions that could be cross-checked with Inspector Forestier’s report. Bonnet remained composed and answered confidently, providing nothing of significance until they reached the subject of Prince Papkov’s party.
“At what time did you and the baron arrive at Prince Papkov’s villa?”
“At approximately two in the morning, Monsieur.”
“And what did you and the baron do when you got there?”
“After some formal introductions, I accompanied my master, the prince, and two other gentlemen to a salon where they played piquet.”
“Do you recall the names of the two gentlemen?”
“One was an Englishman named Sims. The other was a Russian officer. I don’t recall his name.”
“And with whom did your master play piquet?”
“The baron played with the prince, and M. Sims played with the officer.”
“Did your master play with the banknotes in his bag?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Was there anyone else present in the salon?”
“Only the prince’s manservant, as I recall.”
“How long did the gen
tlemen play?”
“They played until dawn.”
“So that would have been about five hours. Did they play continuously?”
“Yes, they did, Monsieur, but with an occasional break for refreshment.”
“Did the gentlemen drink?”
“The prince drank a good deal of vodka. My master didn’t drink. I’m not sure about the other gentlemen, but I believe they drank champagne.”
“Would you say the prince was inebriated?”
“I’d say he was as drunk as a lord, Monsieur.”
“I see. Earlier, when I asked about the baron’s luck at the casino, you said that your master had won approximately twenty-thousand francs at baccarat; is that correct?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“And the prince and the other gentlemen had lost at baccarat?”
“That is correct, although the prince had lost the most by far.”
“So perhaps this private game was the prince’s attempt to get even?”
“Perhaps, Monsieur.”
“Did the prince win?”
Bonnet shook his head and smiled wryly. “Oh no, Monsieur. The prince lost a great deal more.”
“How much more did he lose?”
Bonnet paused a moment before answering, “About half a million francs.”
“Was that all in cash?”
“No, Monsieur. Fifty thousand or so was in banknotes and gold; the remainder was in promissory notes.”
“How did the prince react to having lost so much?”
“Not well, Monsieur. In the presence of the other gentlemen, he accused my master of cheating. He called the baron a cardsharp and other names as well.”
“Would you say the vodka had an influence on the prince’s behavior?”
“I can’t be sure, but I’d say it had an effect. The prince was livid.”
“How did your master respond to the prince’s accusation?”
“He denied the charge vehemently, said he had always played honorably, and demanded payment in full.”
“And what did the prince say to that?”
The Man Upon the Stair Page 3