Double Murder in Attractive Districts

by Agnès Ruiz

  “We’ll do everything we can, Rachel said. Will your friend Jonathan come back that soon?”

  “I called him and he told me he would not be long. It’s been two hours...”

  “Wasn’t he more worried than that?”

  “I told him I was fine. That must have reassured him...”

  “I will ask my colleague to visit you tomorrow morning. The doctor assured me that you could leave the hospital in the afternoon.”

  “For Grégoire... I’m sure you are mistaken. It was not Jonathan who did that. Your other idea must be the right one. He must have been mistaken for the child of the Rambouillets... For me, in short.”

  Her sentence lacked conviction.

  “We shall see all that, Mademoiselle. Just avoid telling lies. That only complicates matters, you know.”

  “I... slept with him the other night.”

  Had Rachel heard?

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Annabelle swallowed painfully and then nodded.

  “But it was unimportant. It was like that, that’s all.”

  “And you think it’s a minor element. Jonathan may have discovered it...”

  “How?”

  “He could follow you, watching you after he dropped you off...”

  “It’s not his style.”

  Annabelle searched her bedside with her eyes, as if looking for an important element. Under that dripping fear, she spied the truth. That was nowhere in this room.

  “His eyes, I should have recognized them, I am sure! Jonathan has hazel eyes, super nice. Those of the other guy, in hood, were dark brown...and wicked as such. Nothing related, she said confronting Rachel.”

  “Are you not telling lies just to cover your boyfriend?”

  “No! I want to find Grégoire again. I’m sure he’s in danger right now and all you have to do is put discredit on Jonathan.”

  “I’m not alone in working on the disappearance of Grégoire Caron, you know. I have a whole team with me. Does he live alone in this big house?”

  “There’s his mother. She is very old and never leaves her room. She loses her reason most of the time. The last time I saw her, it’s been at least a year. She frightened me, always looking at us as if we were strangers in her house.”

  “Has she been like that for a long time?”

  “Several years. She had an attack, I think. Grégoire will be able to tell you... Finally, I mean... If...”

  Her sentence remained in suspense. She hesitated to continue. Jonathan arrived at this moment and spared her from continuing her painful hypothesis. Her boyfriend apologized for his delay.

  “Just imagine that I found an old friend in old Montreal. We took a beer and talked about the past, of course...”

  The detective remained doubtful in the face of this cavalier behavior. His attitude made it clear that he was not worried about Annabelle. Had she been so reassuring on the phone for him to do so? It was disturbing.

  Rachel thought it wise to intervene.

  “And this friend, what’s his name?”

  “José Rigaud. Why did you ask?”

  “He will probably corroborate your statement?”

  “Why would he do that? What’s happening?”

  Chapter 24

  Rachel had spent an hour at Jamel’s bedside with his wife. Their son had been taken care of by his sister who had children his age. Valentin and Kyle had left as planned in her family. On her return home, everything was silent. Even the two labradors, Shima and Caramel, had accompanied her husband and his son to visit the detective’s parents-in-law.

  She did not, however, have the leisure to stretch out on this nocturnal desert. The fatigue was too much. She quickly ate a dish that she threw in the microwave and then collapsed in bed. There, she would not sleep. For good reason, she turned the case in her head, changed position in the bed, and sought another hypothesis. However, she fell asleep.

  The next morning, in the office, Jeff was waiting for her firmly. He seemed excited like a flea.

  “I came across a thunderclap!”

  Rachel watched him, with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

  “Just imagine that Lucien and Ségolène Rambouillet have died,” he said proudly.

  “I suppose you’ll tell me more,” the detective said impatiently.

  “You do not want to cooperate?”

  “We are on a case with a double murder then a potential abduction. So, please, for the riddles, you’ll come back. ”

  The tone was without appeal. Jeff turned gray and suddenly lost his ardor.

  “You’re right. Just that it’s enormous. ”

  “I do not doubt it. Come on. I’m all ears.”

  She added a smile to motivate him.

  “They died more than 25 years ago. Do you hear that? ”

  “Are you sure about you say?”

  Rachel reflected on the implications of this news.

  “Identity theft? Who do we deal with, then? And then, wait till I calculate... Annabelle was only 2 years old at that time. She will not necessarily remember... Could she be a kidnapped child?”

  So many questions suddenly emerged in the face of this incredible discovery.

  She congratulated her colleague and made a phone call to the lab for preliminary results on the victims. Then she mentioned that it was necessary to launch an international search. A couple hiding under a false identity for so long, there was surely an eel under rock.

  Investigator Millet asked what they were going to do with Annabelle.

  “That will be handled at its own time.”

  Passing close to the offices of Jacques and Paul, Detective Toury asked them to consult the file of missing children and compare them with a picture of Annabelle.

  “She was about two years old. And that goes back 25 years. Extend the search for a few years.”

  Jacques grimaced at the request. Rachel made no comment. She knew it would be an arduous and ungrateful job. As they walked, Jeff and Rachel continued their discussion.

  “Now we already have Annabelle’s DNA. When she was assaulted at her home, there was blood on the table.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “Me nothing. Matthieu, in the lab will be able to make a comparison with the fake Rambouillets. In this way, all parental links can be eliminated permanently.”

  “You think it’s related? I mean a murder case and a child abduction that goes back 25 years?”

  Chapter 25

  Annabelle had gone out of the hospital. Instead of going to rest at the hotel as Jonathan suggested, she went straight to Grégoire’s house.

  “What’s the point?”

  “He may have come back? Annabelle asked forcefully.”

  “It’s just anything. Let the police do it. It’s up to them to find him.”

  Again they quarreled. Jonathan started off very quickly, leaving her on the sidewalk. The young woman walked to the door of her friend’s house. She waited before knocking. She hoped, she did not know what, that he would open the door by himself for example. That everything would become as before...

  That was not the case. Then she hit three loud blows. She found herself stupid to continue to wait on the landing. Grégoire had not returned, there was no doubt about it. She turned the handle and found it open. His friend must have been negligent; he had not locked it. In the hall, she called, gently at first and then stronger.

  She heard repeated blows on the floor. Her heart beat faster. She climbed the stairs and then stopped on the threshold of the back room. It was not Grégoire’s voice. That was his mother.

  “It’s me, Mme Caron, Annabelle,” she said, with her tone still exhausted to have gone upstairs in giant steps.

  “Annabellissima, my dear,” Mrs. Caron said.

  The girl found herself plunged back years under this name. She went closer. Mrs. Caron was dressed in an old bathrobe. Her hair was shaggy. Still, she smiled as if all this were natural.

  “You came to see Gr
égoire. He’s playing in his room. I can hear him from here.”

  Annabelle understood without difficulty that Mrs. Caron was in another world.

  “Is your husband not here?” she asked, as if to confirm her suspicions.

  “He’s working at his office, as always. You know how he is. He doesn’t want to be disturbed. Then there is this plague of Micheline with him.”

  “Micheline?” Annabelle asked.

  This name meant nothing to her.

  “His secretary. Oh sometimes, I wonder what you think. Come on, go home. Your parents do not like you hanging around here. »

  Mrs. Caron had just pushed her onto the landing and closed the door of her room. It was incredible the change that had just taken place in her behavior. Was it memories of her husband, her secretary who thus changed her physiognomy? Annabelle had been afraid!

  She moved away from the door, and received a prey of disturbing thoughts.

  Did Mrs. Caron kill her husband and was the truth emerging after all those years because of her illness?

  The young woman went down to the ground floor, with anguish in her. She was trying to connect the snippets of information. She reproached herself for not listening enough. Surely just because she did not like what she heard; she had had so many nightmares because of this murder perpetrated right next door?

  Then the years were added without further drama. And she had calmed down until the death of her parents ...

  This other murder was in the distant past. She was only a child, like Grégoire.

  When Grégoire was not well, they would discuss, refer to his father who died too soon. The investigation pointed to a burglary. And the culprit was still at large...

  Again, the thought that Mrs. Caron might have been responsible worried her, drained her throat, hammered her skull. There was the trap between the two houses. The widow surely knew about it. Could she have sneaked in there ... to kill her parents too?

  “I’m in a real delirium!” Annabelle muttered.

  Crisped on the staircase, Annabelle was undecided. She felt more confused than ever.

  “Grégoire, where are you?” she uttered.

  She felt incapable of leaving this house. If he came in, she had to be there.

  She went downstairs and got a glass of water in the kitchen. She looked at the empty glass and thought she had to protect herself.

  She thought of calling Detective Toury. She had told her that if there was any clarification, she could rely on her.

  This woman seemed sincere. Yet she also showed that she had doubts about herself.

  “She thinks I’m guilty of something.”

  She was not wrong. If only all these lies about her studies. It was strange to speak alone in Grégoire’s kitchen. Then there was Mrs. Caron upstairs. What if she got up and came to attack her? Despite her age, she could show great strength, she had proved it when she had put her out of her room just now.

  Again, she was overwhelmed by anguish. Jonathan. She could ask him to come with her here?

  She fell on his answering machine; and left a message again. She hoped to be as convincing as possible.

  When she hung up, her eyes fell again on the empty glass she had left on the table. An absurd idea emerged.

  She rushed into the garage and found a hammer. Back in the kitchen, she spread towels on the counter. Her gestures were jerky but methodical.

  Three glasses were thus broken. Annabelle left the hammer in the kitchen and then grabbed the towels covered with shards of glass. She spread them on the last step of the stairs. She held the empty towel in her hands and looked up.

  Annabelle expected to see Grégoire’s mother spring up at any moment. It was silent upstairs.

  She got rid of the tea towel on a small table near the phone and sat down on the couch, with her legs curled up and her arms around her knees. She stayed there waiting for the slightest sound.

  Her eyes stared at the window, the street. There were cars passing, passers-by, couples ...a man with his dog. It seemed to her that his eyes were directed at her. He looked too long, she stiffened, and he continued on his way.

  Annabelle fell asleep on the couch. A sound came from her sleep in the heart of the night. Only the light of the street provided the required clarity to distinguish the silhouette that slipped in. Her hand caught the first object it came across, a poker.

  Chapter 26

  Rachel Toury received the call at home. She had to go to the airport to look for a certain Guillermo Voily. That was a direct order from her boss. All he added was that this was in connection with their case. So she found herself holding a sign with the man’s name in the arrivals area.

  The plane was half an hour late. The detective had had coffee and returned to wait. A flood of passengers invaded the space and finally a guy stepped forward.

  “Detective Rachel Toury?”

  She held out her hand. Guillermo Voily shook it while introducing himself.

  “We’ll get your suitcase and take you to the station,” Rachel agreed, turning.

  “No need. I travel light,” he informed her, introducing his backpack.

  On the way he told her he was from Interpol.

  “Your search has raised an alarm at our agency. And here I am.”

  “We could have talked to each other on the phone, Couldn’t we?”

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s a serious matter.”

  “You mean the double murder?” Rachel asked.

  Strangely, she only half believed. Besides, it was with some reservation that the Interpol officer replied.

  “Somehow. ”

  Rachel changed the lane, and as soon as she could, she parked on the roadside.

  “Look, we’ll play fair play, will you? You have information, I have mine. We are on the same side, aren’t we?”

  “I know your service, Detective Toury.”

  Was it a disguised threat? What did this simple phrase mean? Rachel reviewed her many cases. She did not have to blush, quite the contrary. Now she was just a woman, not a robot. Could she have committed one or many errors?

  They remained in their positions for a few seconds. Rachel decided it was no longer her business to talk. She had opened the gates. He had traveled from England to be here. Then she waited.

  “A direct look, a strong will. The reports about you were true. I think we’re going to do a good job together.”

  “We’ll see,” Rachel added cautiously.

  Guillermo Voily smiled broadly at this laconic comment.

  “Your attitude is good. I feel like seeing myself, a few years ago, when I was recruited...”

  Rachel consulted her watch without getting down, and then sighed. Guillermo Voily stuffed for a moment in his backpack on the back seat and faced Rachel. He agreed to explain:

  “As part of your ongoing investigation, you’ve been researching this guy, Falcon Spencer.”

  At the same time, he presented a portrait on his tablet. It was the same man that Jeremiah Johnson had described, the one that corresponded to the robot portrait the bartender had confirmed.

  “That’s right. He met our victim, Lucien Rambouillet several times, one week before his death ...”

  Guillermo Voily nodded looking at the flow of vehicles.

  “We can get back on the road, maybe?” he suggested.

  “Will you tell me everything you know?” Rachel replied.

  “Would you dare to drop me on the roadside if not?”

  Rachel laughed at the absurd proposal. The atmosphere relaxed immediately. The detective set off again. The Interpol officer started explaining what brought him here.

  “Falcon Spencer was in prison in London. He came out a month ago.”

  “With leave to quit the territory?” The detective exclaimed.

  “Not at all. He had an obligation to remain in the country and to report to his probation officer. We think he fled through France with the intention of coming to Canada. Either through South America or so ...�
��

  “A whole journey. Who exactly is he?”

  “He participated in several jewelry robberies. At the last, there were three deaths.”

  “All this in London?”

  “Several in London, but also in Europe.”

  “What’s this guy doing here? He knew the Rambouillets, or whatever their real name, by the way.”

  “You also know it’s a false identity, then?”

  “Are you going to keep matters to yourself for a long time or I have to stop again?”

  Rachel gave him a brief glance.

  “Your two corpses are British, just like Falcon Spencer,” the Interpol officer justified not without a quick smile to the detective. “They’re actually Sean and Gloria Ritchard. An international arrest warrant had been issued for them. Nowadays, it’s pretty incredible. They managed to stay under radars.”

  “Living abroad well assisted,” Rachel admitted. “And, moreover, under a false identity. No trip outside the country. They did not easily relate with the neighborhood. A couple very or even too discreet...”

  Guillermo Voily explained how the guard of the last jewelry shop died.

  “The guard shot down a man and a woman who were members of the band. Falcon Spencer then opened fire...”

  “I have a hard time understanding that he regained his freedom,” Rachel commented. “Especially with such a past.”

  “He obtained a sentence reduction by turning in his accomplices. He spent 22 years in prison.”

  “And as soon as he went out, he had no other preoccupation than to find his old friends,” Rachel Toury sighed. “For the booty, I suppose. The trunk was empty after the murder of the Rambouillets or Ritchards...”

  Those were the elements being put in place. Rachel could easily imagine that the couple had perhaps tried to escape and take away Spencer’s share.

  “It would justify the torture perpetrated on the couple,” she confirmed after her analysis aloud. “And what about their daughter? Who is she?”