Teddy Verano, like the others, sat in one of the armchairs facing the huge, bare, dark room. The sound engineer went up to the projection booth with the metal boxes of film and, a minute later, all the lights went out. In the back of the room, bright flashing lights appeared at floor level. They were synchronizing the soundtrack.
Edwige was sitting between Tragny and Eva. Teddy Verano was next to the pretty public relations girl. In spite of her usual friendliness, Edwige appeared nervous, but everyone in her entourage, obeying an unspoken order, tried not to upset her in any way. Everyone, apparently, feared a relapse of her alarming crisis.
On his arrival, Teddy Verano had thought he had seen her eyes implore him, as if to say “I want to talk to you.” Yes, that must have been it. But there was the baron and Eva. He knew that neither one had known of the letter sent to the detective by Edwige herself, who usually had all her correspondence go through Eva Mellion first.
She’s afraid again, he thought. This screening?
He had thought long and hard about it, and had mentioned it to Tragny, as well as Dr. Sorbier, who was now more than ever determined to protect the health and sanity of Edwige Hossegor.
“She’s going to see herself, like millions of viewers will see her a little later, as Mephista. Will this be positive or not?”
Edwige was obviously suffering from her split personality, half-woman, half-actress. The fact of knowing that an impostor might have killed Jacques Lemoulin, and had certainly come to Tragny’s house, had given her some peace of mind since she knew that she had nothing to do with her good friend’s murder.
Now, she would be a spectator. What she would see on the screen, like the others present, would be the fruit of her artistic efforts, the temporary incarnation of a fictional character, undoubtedly evil, but only fictional.
Teddy Verano wondered what her reaction would be this time. Just an actress judging herself fairly, thanking her director or, on the contrary, would she make a scene because the music drowned out her voice or the lighting technicians left an ugly glare on her left nostril?
Or maybe, new terrors, a neurotic fit, the horror of seeing and hearing Mephista, of being frightened by the crimes she sees herself committing on screen?
Jean-Pierre Max, an excellent actor in his own right, had whispered to Teddy:
“You’ll see; she’s fantastic up there.”
And Teddy had thought:
As long as her great talent doesn’t have a negative result…
The atmosphere felt heavy, nerve-wracking. The private screening, in its way, was going to add a new element.
From the projection booth the operator asked through the microphone:
“Can we start it?
The director answered for everyone:
“Yes.”
They settled down.
The lights flickered off.
There was an instant of absolute blackness.
Then, without credits (which had not yet been made), on the wall that formed a screen, they saw the first images of The Vampires of Paris.
CHAPTER VII
There was the usual silence of the first few moments. In this kind of private screening, the audience has only one thing in mind: to critique at all costs; to nitpick; to find any real or imaginary faults so that they can tell the filmmakers, with an aloof and superior attitude, what they saw, what they “wanted” to see, so as to prove their expertise.
The only sound was a soft buzzing, a little annoying, from the projector in the booth above the room, and, with the first scene, some background music chimed in. The first adventure of The Vampires of Paris came rolling out.
Given what had happened to Edwige Hossegor, Teddy Verano thought that all the privileged spectators at the screening were waiting with bated breath for both Mephista’s appearance and Edwige’s reaction.
A shadow passed over, excused itself, and sat down. It was the sound engineer. After leaving the projectionist alone, he had come to watch the film, seeing that everything was adjusted to his liking.
The dramatic elements captivated the audience for a long while. Although there were several episodes of the famous Vampires, they were not showing them all, but with the interruptions to change the reels, it was still going to take a good two hours.
“Cigarette?”
“We can smoke?”
“Of course. We’re not in a public theater.”
“Then, gladly.”
“A cigarette… Hold on… Give me a light…”
“Yes my dear… Here you go.”
“Thank you. But Monsieur Verano has kindly offered me…”
These few words were spoken in the dark, but Edwige’s gesture did not escape Teddy’s notice. And he was sure that it was so obvious that everyone noticed.
Edwige had not hesitated to stand up, walk by Eva and with the feeble excuse of getting a light from the detective, she had found a way to sit next to him. Right away, quite naturally, she said to Eva:
“Excuse me, dear. It was rude of me to just walk in front of you. Keep Robert company.”
The baron, two chairs down, clearly had nothing to say. It was so obvious that Edwige wanted to talk to Teddy Verano alone that the girl got up without saying a word, took Edwige’s seat and started whispering to the baron.
An empty armchair now separated her from Edwige, who was sitting next to Teddy Verano. The film was playing again. In almost total silence. This kind of audience generally never expressed their disappointment except by the simple and rather rude pleasure of “going along” with either a shudder or a laugh.
She wants to tell me something… again, Teddy Verano thought.
But Edwige did not start talking and the detective figured it was better not to test her trust, since her reaction might shock Eva and upset Tragny.
In the dark, they could barely see anything but the red tips of the cigarettes, as everyone had started smoking. Sometimes, there was whispering, but it was rare, and the huge, bare room echoed, rather unpleasantly to be sure, with the soundtrack booming it out a little too loudly for a film meant for the small screen. They used the standing ashtrays in front of the seats.
All of a sudden, Edwige leaned forward to crush out her cigarette and at the same time whispered:
“I’m scared.”
Teddy Verano did not even blink an eye but spoke in a flat voice:
“Do you want to meet together… a little later?”
“No… I’m scared of what’s going to happen.”
“Before leaving, we need to make an appointment.”
In the shadows she grabbed his arm.
“What’s going to happen… right now.”
“Here? You think so?”
“I know so. Don’t ask me how, I can’t explain it.”
The show was reaching a climax with one scene of violence after another on the screen. The sound was getting louder and louder. Screams, gunshots, a car chase like a real race.
Teddy Verano knew why Edwige Hossegor had chosen this moment to speak to him. Since the episode was really noisy, it was the perfect time to whisper her worries into the detective’s ear. The others were a few feet away and heard nothing of what she said, even if they were not paying too much attention to what was happening on the screen.
“What are you afraid of? If you think it’s inevitable, we should get you out of here fast…”
“Oh! It’s starting again. This inexplicable anxiety, this desire to hurt someone that I feel inside me… Oh, look there!”
She turned away suddenly and pointed to Mephista on the screen. Teddy Verano, who was starting to understand the exquisite, the sweet, the spiritual Edwige, watched and was struck by the frightening expression that crossed her pretty face.
Weapon in hand, she was protecting the hideout of a gang of villains and shot one of the heroes of the film, with a scream of hatred and rage that made everyone, despite looking passive and unconcerned, shiver in their seats. This was not Edwige Hossegor. This was defin
itely Mephista.
Rarely, no doubt, had an actress incarnated such a diabolical spirit. She was really scary. And Teddy saw how scared Mephista could make Edwige. Because, despite everything, she was herself.
Once again, she whispered to him in the dark.
“She’s in me… I feel it… another crime is about to be committed…”
“Who’s under threat? Do you know?”
“No.”
“Is it the baron again? Or…”
“I don’t know, but there’s going to be another victim. Oh, Monsieur Verano, I’ve thought so much about it… I don’t always tell Robert everything, or the doctors…”
“Or me?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Do you doubt it?”
“I’m just so scared… that you will all think I’m crazy…”
“Not me. Or Tragny, who loves you. Or Gelor or Sorbier, who have a great deal of respect for you. Talk… if you really feel a tragedy is coming.”
“Yes, I wanted to avoid it. Listen to me… I came to a strange conclusion. I must not pass out again.”
Teddy Verano said nothing for a moment, as they listened to the dialogue from the film. In the dark, he could feel Tragny and Eva looking at him, turning away from the film to try to find out what Edwige and he were talking about.
And he was thinking that she was right. Because it was when she had fallen into a cataleptic state that Jacques Lemoulin had been murdered. And also during that fatal time that Edwige number two, the mysterious person resembling the actress, had dared to show up at Tragny’s house.
“Speak. Say something.”
“Calm down,” Teddy Verano said. “There’s no reason to suspect that another accident can happen.”
“There is. It was the same the first time. I was scared. That’s why I called you.”
Teddy was puzzled. There was no doctor present since Sorbier had been called away. Should he get Edwige out of there? Interrupt the screening? Or what? Because he agreed with her: what seemed particularly dangerous was that sleep of death that had taken hold of her. Wasn’t it at that moment when they could assume (or at least suppose, with respect to poor Lemoulin) that an independent Mephista, so to speak, had struck, apparently having nothing in common with the human version of Mademoiselle Hossegor.
And yet, Teddy Verano told himself, there’s a connection between Edwige and this Mephista coming out of the screen, entering life and taking action, killing…
Yes, the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that it was this monstrous, this hideous phantom, this double of Edwige/Mephista, who was guilty of Jacques Lemoulin’s murder. The fingerprint, of course, was too obvious, too unmistakably planted to attract attention, as Chief Farnese had said. But it is no less true that everything happened during the time when Edwige was sleeping.
He heard her mumbling:
“Don’t fall asleep…”
There was an intermission to change the reels. The lights were turned on and some conversation started up. Teddy Verano noticed, as he expected, that Tragny was surly, clearly furious that Edwige was putting her trust in the detective, a trust that he would have given anything to share. As for Eva, she obviously frowned on it too, but, always the professional, she talked with the director to discuss a press conference for Edwige.
The sound engineer came back from the booth and said they could restart. Neither Tragny nor Eva, nor anyone else, dared to sit next to Edwige and Teddy Verano. They understood that the two of them needed to be alone to talk, which must have annoyed them all.
A new scene started. In no time at all they saw Mephista commit another crime. Menacing, she had a young, naïve, blond girl under her control. The girl was sweet, in a very touching way, and being threatened in a despicable blackmail. The scene would have been boring, if it were not for Edwige Hossegor’s incomparable acting.
“You’ll obey me. You’ll do what I tell you. Otherwise the man you love will die! I know how to hurt people. I am hatred. I am Mephista. I am death.”
There was silence while they watched the pretty face of the little heroine. They had cleverly filmed the girl’s eyes in a close-up shot, zooming in so that the twin reflection of Edwige’s face was etched on her corneas. The effect might have been simple, but it was striking.
Then, all of a sudden, Teddy Verano heard a voice near him, a woman’s voice saying:
“I know how to hurt people. I am hatred. I am Mephista. I am death.”
Although he had listened to the actress’ voice on the soundtrack with interest, now he heard the same words with a kind of horror. Because it was Edwige who had just spoken them in her seat.
He felt more than he saw Eva turn her head and Baron Tragny, a little farther away, lean over to get a glimpse of Edwige in the dark. Among the spectators around them were a few reactions.
“Mademoiselle Hossegor…”
Teddy Verano was suddenly in a panic. What was happening?
In the shadows, in the dim, flickering light coming from the screen, he saw Edwige sitting stiffly next to him and then fall over backward without a word.
“Mademoiselle Eva… Baron… Quickly… Let’s get her out of here.”
Tragny cried out and rushed over. Eva was already at Edwige’s side, slapping her hands. But they were ice cold. Her entire body was also ice cold, lying in the upended seat.
There was a lot of noise, deep sighs and screams, and useless comments. They lifted Edwige up and laid her on a couch. But it was hard to see. The director and the sound engineer were calling up to the booth to turn on the lights.
“Doesn’t that idiot hear us?”
“He’s busy with the projection!”
“Daniel! Stop the film! Lights! Turn on the lights!”
Everyone was standing around Edwige and, despite the low visibility, there was no doubt about it. For a second time, she’d become the victim of an incomprehensible cataleptic fit.
“Eva, call Dr. Sorbier. Quickly! I’m bringing her back to the house,” said the baron.
Eva disappeared. Tragny was upset because it was still dark.
“Really,” Teddy Verano said, “is there no way to stop the film and give us some light?”
“I’m going up there,” the sound engineer said. “He’s so immersed in his projector that he doesn’t realize what’s going on.”
He left the room.
Tragny kissed Edwige’s cold hands.
“My poor sweet love… Oh, what’s happening?”
A scream answered him coming from the projection booth. Almost immediately, the engineer came scrambling down the stairs. The film was still rolling and the people were caught in the stream of images, in the soundtrack of the movie, in the luminous brushstroke of the projector.
They were scared, calling out, screaming, bumping into each other, looking unreal, with the film that would not stop, that seemed to never want to stop, with the flow of weird images that made shadows on the big screen, with the ranting and crying of people in two dimensions…
“Speak… Say something!” Teddy Verano yelled.
“Up there… in the booth… Daniel…” sobbed the sound engineer.
“What? The projectionist?”
“Dead… Murdered! Blood everywhere!”
Teddy Verano rushed up the stairs like a madman. The film was still rolling.
A little later, they noticed that the first reel had disappeared.
CHAPTER VIII
“And do you know, Gerard, what they found in the projectionist’s wallet?”
“Uh… I don’t know. There’re so many things…”
“Put your little brain to work. If you want to work in this field, you’ll have to learn to think. Come on, it has to have some connection with the Hossegor affair. OK, what are we focusing on right now?”
Teddy Verano’s stepson suddenly lit up.
“Ah, hold on! A list of admirers. But nothing’s come of it.”
“Not yet.”
“I’ve
got it. A photo of Edwige.”
“Exactly.”
“With a dedication?”
“No. The poor boy had just told the sound engineer that he was keeping his precious photo for the end of the screening when, as shy as he was, he planned to ask Edwige to sign it.” He let out a sigh. “Another one. Just like Jacques Lemoulin... Even Tragny, since it was on the night of Edwige’s first fainting spell that the strange creature—let’s call her Mephista—came to his house around midnight.”
“Do you think she went there to kill the baron?”
“Listen, my boy, I said so at the time, and I still say so: everything is unfolding around the circle of Edwige Hossegor’s fans.”
Gerard looked slyly at him.
“Well, Teddy, I don’t want to go bursting through open doors playing Sherlock Holmes… You must have thought of it before me… that the cause of all this is a jilted lover.”
“Not a bad notion, my boy. Except the hitch is that all three times—here I’m taking Lemoulin’s dying testimony as accurate—it was a woman, the spitting image of Edwige, who was present.”
“By the way, any news from Farnese?”
“Yeah, right! We’re a long way from his ‘personal visit’ of that first night. He is, of course, still avoiding the ridiculous accusation of Edwige herself, but who could deny that this affair, or rather these different affairs, involve her intimately? So, we saw him again at Tragny’s house since that’s where Edwige will be residing from now on.”
“She and the baron aren’t married yet?”
“You have to admit that there might be a little wrinkle in their plans. Besides, they figure on legalizing it when the investigation’s over, and then they’ll run away… somewhere where they’ll have some peace. All the contracts with the beautiful Edwige Hossegor have been suspended for three months. She needs rest. Just between us, I think there’ll be an extra guest on their honeymoon… Dr. Sorbier.”
“Is she doing better?”
“Like always after a crisis—since this is becoming a habit, a regrettable habit, with crimes every time—Edwige is fine. This catalepsy also lasted a few hours and we had to tell her about the murder of Daniel, the projectionist, found stabbed to death… with his blood-splattered photo…”
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