by Noel Vindry
‘Very well. Could you supply two men who are adept at trailing suspects?’
‘Of course. Who are we talking about?’
‘Etrillat, nickname Le Borgne. I’ve managed to allay his suspicions, but we have to be careful nonetheless. If the operation is well executed, it could lead us to the hiding place of Allevaire.’
‘Really? Are you sure?’
‘Almost sure. If the surveillance starts immediately. Speaking of which, is it in place for the stations, roads and the port?’
‘The stations and the port, yes. The roads are more difficult. There are a lot of them, we don’t have enough personnel, and they block the circulation of traffic. If we were talking about a murderer, we could deploy more. But for a mere thief….’
‘Yes, quite.’
‘Furthermore, Allevaire doesn’t own a car.’
‘He could easily steal one. The same goes for Le Borgne. Make sure one of your men has a motorbike at the ready.’
‘Don’t you think he’s already left?’
‘I don’t think so. He’s just met up with Allevaire and won’t see him again until he has something to tell him or supplies to take him. We mustn’t lose time establishing surveillance of his residence.’
‘I’ll get on it right away. Au revoir, superintendent.’
‘Au revoir, chef.’
M. Allou hung up.
‘I’m a prize idiot,’ exclaimed Sallent. ‘Of course you were right. It would have been pointless to arrest Le Borgne, he would never have talked. Whereas now, he might be useful.’
‘Don’t get carried away, Sallent, you’re not an idiot. Your explication just now seems very likely: Etrillat was trying to retrieve the wallet that Allevaire forgot.’
‘It wasn’t difficult to work out. What troubles me more is how it got here and why Allevaire had it. I thought he had absolutely nothing to do with that crime,’
‘Absolutely is a big word,’ replied M. Allou.
‘What I meant was he had nothing to do with the actual execution. Naturally, he knew it was going to happen, because he provided the papers that were placed on the victim.’
‘And he also asked for the victim’s papers in return.’
‘Then why didn’t he carry them on him?’
‘That would have been dangerous until the authorities gave up on identifying the dead man. He was waiting for the case to be closed.’
‘Right. Well, at least we now know the victim.’
‘Only his name. Otherwise we know very little, apart from the fact that he lived in Grenoble, at the address given on his papers. Tomorrow we’ll send them a telegram to learn more.’
‘Don’t you think, M. Dupont—I have to get used to calling you that—we should have tried to arrest Allevaire last night, by the roadblocks?’
‘No, it was too late. A car is easily stolen and surveillance measures take a while to be put into place. Furthermore, he may not have travelled far. Look, as far as tonight is concerned, there’s only one thing left to do: go to bed. We need it, after all these watches.’
‘Don’t you think we should still watch Clermon’s townhouse?’
‘No. Proto is getting serious. He understands now that laziness has its consequences. He and a colleague are mounting guard. Clumsily, perhaps, but they’re there.’
‘Maybe we should check on the way back.’
‘If you insist.’
They left on foot, and in R…Street they could see a man pacing backwards and forwards on the pavement, whilst keeping a distance from Clermon’s townhouse.
‘You see?’ said M. Allou, smiling, ‘he’s making progress. Not only is he working, but he’s trying to be more discreet about it, as you suggested.’
The superintendent shrugged his shoulders grumpily.
‘Let’s go to bed,’ continued M. Allou. ‘I’m ready to drop. Tomorrow he’ll bring us his report.’
‘I’m not going to lose any sleep over it,’ growled Sallent.
Chapter XIII
M. ALLOU’S PROMISE
At eight o’clock the following morning, Proto asked to see the superintendent, who was coming down the stairs with M. Allou.
‘Nothing to report before midnight,’ he announced.
‘And afterwards?’
‘Afterwards it was my colleague. He couldn’t have seen anything, because otherwise he would have phoned in a report.’
‘So nothing unusual happened last night?’
‘Absolutely nothing.’
At that moment the concierge approached.
‘There’s a call for M. le Commissaire from M. Clermon.’
Sallent reached the phone booth in three strides. Proto stood there, scratching his head in embarrassment.
‘My God,’ he said to M. Allou, ‘if something did happen, I’m toast. But I swear I was there this time.’
The superintendent was already talking:
‘Hello, M. Clermon?’
‘Yes.’
‘Nothing serious, I hope?’
‘No, just something annoying. I wouldn’t have bothered you but for your adventure last night, which the inspector told me about.’
‘You saw him?’
‘Naturally, when he brought poor Madras back.’
‘Ah, yes. How is he?’
‘Not too bad. He’ll be fully recovered after a few days’ rest. But he had a narrow escape.’
‘To say the least. Well, that’s good to hear. What happened to you?’
‘Someone stole one of my cars. The one you saw yesterday, in fact.’
‘Where was it parked?’
‘In the garage at the back of the house.’
‘At what time?’
‘That I couldn’t say.’
‘And you suspect Allevaire, naturally.’
‘Of course. If he was trying to escape….’
‘Did he know how to drive?’
‘Very well. And, furthermore, he knew the vehicle well because I’d lent it to him often.’
‘Who had keys to the garage? Hello? Hello? How annoying, the line’s gone dead. Hello?’
‘Hello?’
‘We were cut off. I was asking who had keys to the garage?’
‘Only me. It’s on my key chain. But it’s a simple lock, very easy to pick.’
‘Very well. Give me the number of the vehicle and a brief description, and I’ll alert everyone.’
Sallent took down the information and left the cabin. He found M. Allou at the main entrance.
‘Would you believe, Dupont….’
‘I gathered from your replies that someone has stolen one of Clermon’s cars?’
‘Yes. That’s not surprising if Allevaire—.’
‘There is something surprising, however.’
‘What?’
‘That your conversation was disconnected and re-established. That never happens with automatic service.’
‘That’s true. I wasn’t paying attention.’
‘Do you recall what you were discussing at that moment?’
‘Wait… It was concerning the key to the garage.’
‘You had to wait a long time for a response.’
‘True enough.’
Proto approached the two men.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked.
His very presence was enough to infuriate Sallent.
‘You! You again! Needless to say, when you were on duty, someone stole a car.’
‘But… where was the garage?’
‘Behind.’
‘But how could I have… Besides, I spent a long time in hospital with the wounded man.’
Sallent shrugged his shoulders and walked away. M. Allou couldn’t help smiling. Proto approached him:
‘It’s not fair! I don’t know why he can’t stand the sight of me.’
‘Not at all,’ replied M. Allou. ‘He has his moments, like all of us. But, deep down, he respects you.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I’m sure of
it. And to prove it, he’s asked me to charge you with a delicate mission.’
‘That’s marvellous. What is it?’
‘Wait. Take a look. Do you know this man?’
M. Allou had taken out the driving licence in the name of Pierre Fumage, which had been found in Allevaire’s wallet.
Proto studied the photograph.
‘No,’ he said. ‘The superintendent’s going to criticise me again, even though this fellow came from Grenoble!’
‘Don’t get upset. We need to know if Fumage ever came to Bordeaux, whether he met Allevaire and Le Borgne and, if so, what was their relationship?’
‘That’s not going to be easy,’ replied Proto, scratching his head.
‘You have nothing else to do today, because Madras is in bed. Check the usual police informers: someone amongst them may recognise the fellow. Tonight, when you come to make your report, I’ll give you further information, which I’ll have obtained from Grenoble in the meantime. Good luck.’
***
After Proto had left, M. Allou went over to Sallent, who was reading the newspaper in a corner of the room.
‘You would do well to telephone the examining magistrate to ask him to telegraph a request for more information about Fumage. He knows your voice, so I can’t do it.’
‘I’ll do it straight away.’
After the superintendent returned from the phone booth, he found M. Allou smoking his pipe, eyes half-closed.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked.
‘Something that Clermon said yesterday morning. A theory he put forward to excuse his future brother-in-law from his slanderous statement.’
‘Remind me.’
‘That Madras had possibly been less heroic than he claimed on the night of the intrusion, when Allevaire attempted his first theft.’
‘Ah, yes, I remember, replied Sallent. ‘Clermon insinuated that his secretary might not have tried to subdue the man, but had merely chased him, leaving the possibility that he’d made an error about the man’s identity.’
‘Precisely. It had seemed quite plausible at the time. But last night Madras showed himself to be very courageous.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Which means we need to revisit the theory of the slanderous accusation. Physical courage is sometimes accompanied by moral cowardice. Do you remember his determination to marry the young woman, despite her tears?’
‘Yes,’ said Sallent.
He sat down beside M. Allou and, after a moment, asked:
‘What are we going to do today?’
‘Not much. Await the information I requested.’
‘Sounds like fun.’
M. Allou paused and then smiled:
‘If you want to amuse yourself, my dear Sallent, you could try a small experiment.’
‘Such as?’
‘If it doesn’t work out, it’ll at least stop you grumbling for a few minutes, which would be a miracle in itself. Telephone the local police station for R… Street.’
‘To ask what?’
‘If by any chance they patrolled the street behind Clermon’s townhouse during the course of last night.’
‘What do you want to verify… Dupont?’
‘The telephone line cut-off.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes. Just do it.’
‘And supposing there was a patrol?’
‘Send them here.’
A few minutes later, Sallent returned.
‘There was a patrol, which went past at around two o’clock in the morning. They’ll be here in a few minutes.’
***
The two men soon arrived.
‘Do you know M. Clermon’s garage?’ asked M. Allou.
‘Yes.’
‘Did you notice anything unusual last night?’
‘Yes. Not much, though. M. Clermon had forgotten his door key.’
‘That’s all. Thank you very much. Oh, just one more thing. Do you know the cars he keeps there?’
‘Yes, of course. A two-seater and a larger vehicle which can take six.’
‘Who drives them?’
‘The chauffeur, before he left a month ago. After that, it was mostly M. Clermon and occasionally his sister. I don’t believe M. Madras knows how to drive.’
‘Perfect, gentlemen.’
After the police had left, M. Allou turned to Sallent with a smile:
‘There!’ he said. ‘It looks as though there were two keys.’
‘Obviously! But was the other lent out by Marthe Clermon?’
‘Indeed it was. And that explains the line being cut off and the delayed response. I’m being kind, my dear Sallent: I’ve given you the opportunity of revenge against the young lady.’
‘And what use is the information?’
‘None, because you’re still grumbling.’
Sallent shrugged his shoulders, then replied in his most soothing voice:
‘Given that nothing must be done to inconvenience her in any way, or ask her the most inoffensive question, what she may have done is of no importance.’
‘That’s not fair, Sallent. We were on our way to interview her last night. It’s not my fault that events took an unexpected turn. We can go back this morning, if you like.’
‘Oh, it’s not really important. All she did was help Allevaire because she’s in love with him. How could that possibly matter?’
‘So you’d leave me to interview her by myself, Sallent? Because I do intend to talk to her.’
‘Because you have time to spare. Speaking of spare, what are we doing in Bordeaux? We came here because you suspected collusion between Madras and Allevaire. Now that you’ve abandoned that idea, and our suspect is on the run….’
‘I still believe that the nub of the problem is here. Le Borgne interests me. He must know something and may even be part of the gang. If we shadow him successfully, he could lead us to something important. I’ve a hunch our adventure has just begun.’
‘May heaven be your witness. Personally, I think we’re just treading water.’
***
At around eleven o’clock, M. Allou arrived at the Clermon residence and asked to see his sister.
When he saw her come in, so slight with large eyes full of sadness and fear, he felt pity for her once again. The child must not be sacrificed, neither to her brother, nor to a villain.
‘Please sit down,’ he said. ‘I’m not here as an enemy, I assure you, nor even to interrogate you. I already know everything I need to know about you.’
She looked down and said nothing.
‘The authorities will not be told anything, because they have no need to know. It doesn’t matter to them that, the day before yesterday, you opened the door to Allevaire who, when discovered by M. Clermon, was thrown out with justifiable brutality. It doesn’t matter to them that yesterday you warned him of our impending departure to his hiding place. And that afterwards you lent him your garage key in order to take the car.’
She didn’t move a muscle except at the tip of her chin, which trembled slightly.
‘Do you acknowledge all that, miss?’
She nodded very slightly in agreement.
‘My child, nobody can reproach you for having been seduced by the charms of that man. Many others, with far more experience, have succumbed. But now, you should understand. You know what he is. No longer is there a deceitful halo hiding the true nature of the villain. He’s just a cheap little crook with no redeeming features. He has none of the inner feelings which even the most hardened criminals possess. His last offence was particularly shameful: stealing from his old aunt, who had always been so good to him. And stealing what was dearest to her heart, a set of silverware which wasn’t even of any great value. It was a despicable act, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes,’ murmured Marthe.
‘Think about it, my child. And think about another risk you may be running. During that first night when a man broke in here—whilst Allevaire was
committing that despicable crime in Limonest—he passed right in front of your room whilst he was running away. It’s impossible for you not to have known for certain that it wasn’t Allevaire. A woman has no doubts when it comes to the person she loves. So why did you lie? Why did you say you couldn’t be sure?’
Marthe’s chin started to tremble and there were now tears in her eyes.
‘Is it because you were afraid of contradicting Serge Madras?’ continued M. Allou.
‘N-No, it wasn’t that,’ she stammered.
‘No? Obviously you dared not admit it. Now tell me: do you want to marry Serge?’
‘No, I don’t….’
Her voice was so low that M. Allou had to lean forward to hear it.
‘But your brother insists, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes, sir. Oh, if you could only….’
‘Only what?’
‘I trust you. Just don’t tell him you heard it from me. If you could only persuade my brother to abandon the project... But please, please, don’t tell him you’ve spoken to me.’
‘How frightened you seem to be. Shouldn’t you be telling me everything?
‘There’s nothing else to tell! I don’t love Serge, that’s all.’
‘I’ll try and convince your brother, as soon as I have an opportunity.’
‘Please hurry.’
‘Why?’
‘The engagement will be officially announced tomorrow. I don’t want it to happen!’
‘I’ll be seeing your brother tonight. But Serge Madras isn’t much of a man to insist on marrying in such circumstances.’
‘Oh, sir, don’t speak ill of him. That wouldn’t be fair. He doesn’t know.’
‘You’ve disguised your feelings?’
‘Yes. I was about to tell him when Gustave Allevaire was exposed. After that, I didn’t dare any more. But he loves me sincerely. And he thinks the feeling is returned.’
‘In that case, make it clear to him.’
‘No! Never! He would understand everything.’
‘Understand what?’
‘Everything you’ve described. My rendezvous on the night before last, when I opened the door, and the help I gave Allevaire yesterday. He has such an admiration for me… I don’t want him to know.’