“I should have told you first, Teddy. We watched it together… a new show.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s it. What was it?”
“The Grave Opens at Midnight… with one of our most charming acquaintances… the most famous client of Verano & Co.”
“Edwige, right? Edwige Hossegor?”
“None other. Yes, a new success for our great star and friend, the unforgettable Mephista.”
“Oh, Teddy, what’s wrong?”
Yvonne, ever the devoted wife, came with a towel to rub his head and try to dry his hair.
Teddy Verano, who was starting to sip his coffee, literally choked. Gerard rushed over and offered him a napkin, still laughing.
“And a bib for little Teddy.”
But the detective expressed his satisfaction.
“Great! Not only do I think I know the vampire or vampires who are photographing the dead but also why… So she is still alive?”
“Who?”
“Mephista!”
“Our dear Edwige? Of course, Teddy. Before the first episode of this new series—it wasn’t bad by the way, pretty funny in parts—they interviewed her. She looked great.”
Teddy Verano swallowed some coffee, put down his cup.
“When I said ‘Mephista,’” he said, “I wasn’t talking about Edwige but the other one. Not she who created the character for the screen, but… the entity itself… the Mephista born from the diabolical schemes of the mad genius Jules Verrier, who later seemed to incarnate herself in another woman...”
“Ah!” Gerard and Yvonne said together. “You mean Olga Mervil?”
“Yes,” Teddy Verano said. “I think I’ve found Olga.”
“But she’s dead. She died in the fire at the Porte des Lilas when the red mass ended so tragically.”
“Obviously not.” Teddy Verano replied. “Don’t you remember afterward, when they tried to identify the bodies? Some of them were almost completely charred. In spite of the efforts of Chief Farnese and his department, it was impossible to know exactly who was there at that sacrilegious ceremony of Satan worshippers.”
“And you believe that Olga escaped the fire?” Yvonne asked.
“Yes, because of the fact that she wanted to watch this ‘rubbish’ TV show, and certain other things Crucifer said. But you don’t know what I’m talking about. Listen...”
He finally told them about his extraordinary adventure in Montdidier and then, finishing his coffee, he sighed:
“I’ve got a migraine.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You got almost no sleep. And after all that excitement. Go back to bed. Do you want some aspirin?”
“No, I hate drugs. Besides, I have to work… and you, too, Gerard. The tape recorder, go get it.”
Teddy Verano, still in his bathrobe, settled into his comfortable armchair and was pampered by Yvonne. Gerard set up the tape recorder and grabbed a notebook and pencil to take notes.
“Let’s see,” the detective began. “I’m going to try to remember everything that seemed weird in the conversations last night. Crucifer and Miss Mahlia, Mirk and me, the hysterical shouts of that gang of lunatics…”
“Do you think,” Yvonne asked, “that they’re more unfortunate souls who believe in the devil and worship him?”
“It’s a possibility. Except for that poor Fever Blister, who’s more reasonable and sees things more clearly than the others… but let’s get started.”
He started the recording. Teddy Verano talked while Gerard took notes on the salient points that his stepfather indicated. The detective sighed and frowned. He had to make an effort to remember everything. There were so many details!
Finally, when he had finished his account, Gerard reread his notes.
“Here are the important points: Miss Mahlia, because of her beauty, that Monsieur Verano got a peep at, is like Olga Mervil, a.k.a. Mephista. Don’t listen, ma, or you’re going to get jealous.”
“It comes with the job. Keep going, you idiot.”
“Crucifer said ‘Go to Hell’ and it terrified everyone… meaning, these are people who are afraid that this might really happen.”
“A good point, Gerard. What else?”
“The so-called Mirk, alias the scarlet clown, is doing some kind of research. He said that ‘all means are acceptable,’ that they have to ‘obey him,’ and they’re ‘taking great risks.’ Finally, there’s was also the gorgeous Fever Blister, who earned a kiss from our illustrious detective.”
“Part of my duty, moron. I’d like to see you in my place.”
“Hush, dirty old man! I’m sure that she was, indeed, a most seductive creature.”
“I’ll introduce you and you can judge for yourself. Go on.”
“Let’s see… Ah, yes, very important! Mirk said his research was going to take him ‘in between life and death… What does this mean?”
“In between? In my opinion it would be the very moment that we call death. When the soul detaches from the body. This weird and disturbed individual is going to experiment on someone… when they’re just between life and death…”
Gerard shivered.
“Oooh! Scary!
“If you’re scared, don’t read horror novels and don’t play detective. Stick to books about romance and history.”
“Teddy, duty above all else. I continue: They’re all freaks… meaning all kinds of ugliness. No beautiful girls or handsome men (referring to you, boss) in that circus. And you think that they have a plan: to become beautiful again by some kind of infernal pact, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Another important detail: Miss Mahlia ‘has no face.’ Which means?”
“I asked myself the same question. Perhaps she, too, is really ugly, deformed, which would explain why she always wears a mask, and why this other madman Crucifer, out of sadism, showed off his mistress in her birthday suit while refusing to show her face. The scarlet clown seemed to be madly in love with her, and ready for any kind of devilry in order to get what he wants. But since he wants to succeed, ‘especially for her,’ we must conclude that she, too, needs a new face.”
“But then, Teddy, it can’t be Mephista, because Olga, you remember, was a stunning beauty.”
“Yes, yes…” Teddy Verano thought of something. “We’ll have to see. But it doesn’t change the situation.”
“We know that,” Gerard went on, “according to Mirk, these people are ‘risking a lot’ on the one hand, and are going to do ‘terrible things’ on the other. And after Crucifer’s threats, it’s all going to happen in the next three days.”
“The next three days,” the detective mumbled. “Today is day number one. If only we could find out…”
“Teddy, let’s return to the topic at hand. The connection between your visit to the circus last night and the Lefort affair.”
“The violation of Viviane Lefort’s grave? And the mysterious photographer breaking into Claire’s death room? I have some ideas… but they’re still very vague.”
“Also, what would Mephista be doing there?”
“I don’t know yet, my boy,” replied Teddy Verano, jumping up. “But right now, I don’t really care. What a night! Your mother’s right, I’m going back to bed.”
“Beddy-bye, big Teddy? Do you need to be tucked in?”
“A right uppercut and a left hook, how would you like that? Would it put a damper on your funny bone?”
“Teddy, Teddy, be careful… You gave me lessons in boxing and judo and I…”
“I’m going to bed. You can sort the notes and also follow up on the Rensen case. You know, the good lady who thinks her husband is cheating on her with two secretaries at the same time. We have to think of that, too.”
“A far less interesting case than that of the vampire photographer… and the return of Mephista… Good night, Teddy. Or rather, good morning.”
Teddy Verano slept until noon while Gerard rushed through the current caseload of the Verano Agency, overexcited by t
he avalanche of mysteries and thinking of the unforgettable Olga, whose photos he had kept in the archives.
A doll like this… True, she sold her soul to the Devil and her movie debut started with a flood of disasters. That chick was crazy. Like Teddy always say, if you touch that kind of girl, you get burned badly.
He daydreamed for a moment.
If it’s her, if she’s escaped the red mass… why the mask? Why live with the carnies? So she won’t be recognized? That’s most likely. Condemned to hide her beauty that was already making heads turn before she finished her first film… Fate is funny! But then again, maybe it’s not her. Teddy could be wrong.
He reread his notes and listened to the recording.
He raised an eyebrow on hearing this:
About this project, the collective hope of the Crucifer Circus, the project headed by Mirk the clown, who also said: These things can be bought.
Gerard thought again about the two previous Mephista cases.
Dangerous people… and a clown like this... I can’t say he makes me laugh very much.
At lunchtime, Teddy Verano woke up and, right away, called Gerard, who had sorted out his notes, photos and everything he could pull together about both the very boring)Rensen affair, and what the Verano Agency was presently calling the Lefort affair, before (or so Gerard thought) having to refile it in the already thick Mephista file.
“Gerard, are you there?”
“Yes, boss.”
“I have an idea.”
“Bravo! I’m all ears.”
“You’re going to enter the ring.”
“Me? Does that mean that I have to get in touch with the Crucifer Circus as soon as possible?”
“Exactly.”
Suddenly, Gerard stopped smiling and joking. He knew that, this time, his stepfather was serious. Very serious. Teddy Verano often got ideas from his sleep, and had often found inspiration and the key to more than one mystery while dozing. Now he was about to entrust an important mission to him.
Indeed, the detective took him aside in the room that served as the annex office in their home on the Rue d’Enghien, while Yvonne, vaguely worried, prepared lunch.
The next morning, very early, the telephone rang. It was Jean-Michel Lefort.
“Monsieur Verano, do you have any news?”
“Nothing solid… at least no solid connection to… the affair that interests you. But a bunch of really interesting stuff. And today, I attack… or anyway, my partner and stepson, is going to attack the case under another angle, and, hopefully, make a big splash.”
There was a pause as Jean-Michel Lefort seemed struck by such a direct answer.
“OK. I’d like to see you.”
“Naturally. Ten o’clock, Rue d’Enghien, is that all right?”
“Excuse me… Could we do it right away? Have you heard the radio this morning? Although I don’t know if all the stations are talking about it... After all, it’s just a local crime.”
Teddy Verano, who was still lying in bed, jumped up.
“A local crime…Of interest to us?”
“Yes. A kidnapping.”
“What?”
And the troubled voice of Viviane’s husband explained:
“Agnes Percheron has disappeared. Last night. Kidnapped no doubt.”
Teddy Verano sat speechless for ten seconds before swearing:
“Bloody hell! You’re right, Monsieur Lefort. Come. Come right now.”
Fifteen minutes later Jean-Michel arrived at the Verano Agency. In the meantime, the members of the family were ready to see him. Teddy Verano had been thinking all the while getting dressed.
Agnes Percheron, the young lady from Péronne. Agnes who had watched over poor Claire during that frightful night. Agnes, the first witness of this sinister affair. Agnes, laid up in bed or screaming since the drama, who was scared of flashing lights because she had seen the visitor from hell take pictures of the dead…
Jean-Michel had learned about it from a telephone call from a friend. The disappearance had not caught the attention of the national media, but in the region, they were talking about it, and Lefort’s friend, knowing that Jean-Michel was involved in the drama, had telephoned him.
When he arrived ,they talked for a long time.
A knock at office door made Jean-Michel’s heart stop for a second.
A man entered. Young, there was no mistaking this by his silhouette, and pretty well built, but his face was in such a state… One of those poor deformed men with twisted, swollen features, and badly healed scars ravaging his whole face.
Jean-Michel forced himself to stay calm and was very surprised to see Teddy Verano laugh.
“What do you think of my monster?”
“I’m sorry... what did you say?”
“Yes, my dear Monsieur Lefort, I’d like introduce you to my stepson Gerard, my right hand man. Don’t worry, he’s usually not a bad-looking kid.”
Teddy Verano got up to get a picture in a frame.
“Here, look. This is his natural state.”
Jean-Michel could not get over it. The detective waved Gerard over.
“Look up close. You’d never know it, eh? It’s make-up. Yes, right out of movies and television. But on closer inspection… With certain modern appliances… Latex, Monsieur Lefort, latex! And then, an old trick: a nut in the nostril that totally deforms the balance of the face… You see the result.”
Jean-Michel, a little relieved, looked closely at the incredible work.
“Great! I’d swear the skin had been…”
“Eaten away by acid? Gerard is going to Amiens. That’s where the Crucifer Circus is performing, starting today. But listen now to what I have to tell you.”
Jean-Michel could not stop looking at the surprising vision fabricated by the skill of an expert make-up artist while Teddy Verano started telling him about all the curious goings-on around the trailers of the circus of the animal-tamer Crucifer, the lover of Miss Mahlia, who might very well be Mephista.
CHAPTER XI
The municipal circus in Amiens stands like a huge polygonal cheese dish cover, enormous and solid, Second Empire style, on the outskirts of the city. That is where traveling circuses perform, so that they do not have to set up their own big tent. It was there that Crucifer and his people settled for three days while the rest of the fair scattered around the area. The trailers were parked nearby and, as usual, the carnies saw Crucifer’s performers stay a little apart.
It was already an established fact among them: Crucifer was a strange man who did not participate very much in the famous fraternity of the business he was nevertheless dependent on. No one disputed the quality of the attractions he presented, or the artists he hired. And it was just as true that, on the administrative level, he formed a clan apart, infinitely less easy-going than most of this world that gave so much pleasure and entertainment to the people.
Could this be blamed on the particularly unpleasant appearances of his performers? Most people believed this. They figured they could explain this by mentioning his own case. This beautiful young man, once reputed to be quite a seducer, had been mauled by a wild cat and his face had retained the cruel traces. Now, he seemed to be careful to surround himself with performers with more or less damage to their faces.
And Miss Mahlia, his mistress and partner, was seldom seen, except by the Crucifer troupe. Gossip ran rampant about her, but they knew nothing more. Miss Mahlia lived behind her mask.
It was there, near the Amiens circus, that a young vagabond was found roaming around. It happens a lot at fairs: homeless tramps wander around, a little bleary-eyes, looking for work sometimes, or pursuing some mysterious, indefinable goals…
It was the young Zigano girl who had seen him first. Short, horribly masculine, built as poorly as a girl could be, knotty and muscular, with a flat face, the acrobat had spotted the young man right away because of his frightful face. They had talked about the adventurous life in the circus, about his checkered
past and dead-end present.
The Zigano girl had called over her one-eyed mother. She, too, examined him with curiosity. Soon the two women were calling out to their circus partners.
“Come! Come and see this!”
Teddy Verano’s stepson (for it as he) felt ill at ease. He had played his role well enough to take the first step. With a girl, it was not hard when one is over 20 years old and not a complete beginner at this kind of thing, as was his case. But in this situation, he had to pass himself off as a misfortuned soul and, especially, keep them from scrutinizing his fake scars too closely, even if it would have taken a good doctor to spot the fraud.
Of course, to talk with the Crucifer people was his goal. It started off nice and easy for him, once he got used to the particular ugliness of the Zigano girl. After he had impressed her, all the women, with the obvious exception of the invisible Miss Mahlia, surrounded him.
Bertha the amazon, with the elephant nose; Lise Wildor, the acrobat whose face was eaten away by a birthmark; the shriveled up little mummy whom Gerard knew had helped Teddy escape, the melancholy but reasonable Fever Blister, who worked as the cashier as well as being the fortune-teller and the assistant for the indefinable Arsène, with the funny nickname of Lack-o-Luck.
Gerard was a little dizzy. The women were all there, looking at him and their disfigurements made him sick. Unpleasant on a man, sad on a child, these kinds of ugliness on a woman turned into a permanent tragedy, a genesis of woe.
Gerard pitied them, but the Crucifer women showed no discretion.
“The poor boy! What happened? He wasn’t born like this… An accident? Fire? Or what?”
All eyes were on him, and the young Zigano, instead of keeping their bit of flirting to herself, seemed very proud of discovering this new monster and showing him off to her mother and partners in misery.
“I’m the one who found him… I’m the one who found him…”
She repeated this endlessly. Gerard, who had realized in 30 minutes of conversation, that he was dealing with somewhat of a half-wit, dreamed up some sad predictions for the poor girl’s future.
Nevertheless, they pressed him with frank questions that are generally not asked of people with any kind of physical defect. He, however, acted shy, overwhelmed, remembering Teddy Verano’s advice after he had so carefully drawn up this plan, based on his observation of these people’s reactions that he had seen in the raw during that unforgettable night.
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