Pel And The Paris Mob

by Mark Hebden

  The Baron’s jaw dropped. ‘Was she in it?’

  ‘She could be.’

  ‘Well, you’re too late. She’s disappeared.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Some damn fool from Paris with a pipe came to see her and started asking questions. Algieri said she seemed scared and soon afterwards she said her sister was ill and she had to go and see her. She’s not been back since.’

  ‘Surely you’re not interested in Suzy?’ the Baronne said. ‘She’s far too loyal.’

  ‘I think we’d better examine her room nevertheless, Madame,’ Pel insisted.

  It didn’t take more than a quick search to produce two windcheaters – single thickness, nylon, unpadded and therefore not bulky – which corresponded to the description of those used by the men who had robbed De Mougy.

  De Mougy eyed his wife coldly. ‘So much for your damned loyalty,’ he growled. ‘Was she behind it?’

  ‘Not behind it,’ Pel said. ‘But we think she was the one who tipped off the thieves about what you were carrying when you left to catch the aeroplane to Deauville. We now know two of the thieves and possibly a third, and we’ll pick them up. In the meantime, we’d like to question Suzy Vince.’

  Nobody had noticed Suzy Vince leave the château but Josso had seen her cycling to the village.

  ‘She had a hold-all with her,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll find her,’ Pel promised.

  They did, but not where they expected. Her bicycle was found to have been left with a friend in the village who said she’d caught a bus to the city, claiming she was going to see her sister.

  Josso knew where her sister lived and they found her at work in her shop, wearing the apron Suzy Vince had sneered at so much. When they explained what they were after, she called her husband from the garden at the back of the shop to deal with the customers, and led them into the private quarters.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘She came here. She wanted a bed for the night.’

  ‘Had she any luggage?’

  ‘Just a small hold-all with her night things and a small case.’

  ‘What sort of case?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t a case really. It was a flat thing – one of those things wealthy people put their jewels in when they go away. She had it in the hold-all. I saw it when I showed her upstairs.’

  ‘Did she say why she wanted to stay with you?’

  ‘No. I was surprised. Because she’s never thought much of me and my husband. I think she was scared.’

  ‘Did she say why?’

  ‘She just said she wanted to stay quietly out of the way for a day or two. I asked if she was in trouble. She said no but I’m not so sure. She seemed nervous. Then this man came.’

  ‘Which man. Did he give a name?’

  ‘No. He just appeared at the door asking for her.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  ‘Tall. Dark. Good-looking. I showed him in. When he came into the room, she was scared stiff of him. I think he was scared too. They started quarrelling.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I think she had something of his and he wanted it back. He made her get her clothes and took her outside. He had a car. They drove off. I could see her looking back. I’m sure she was scared.’

  ‘I’m sure she was, too,’ Pel said. His wife had been right. The jewels had been handed over to someone inside the ring of road blocks that had been erected after the hold-up. Suzy Vince had been waiting nearby with her bicycle and Nick and his accomplices had passed them to her with the wind-cheaters that had disguised them and had then continued to the search at the road block while she had cycled along the forest paths. The area bordered De Mougy land and she was quite capable of the half-day ride. Wasn’t she the girl who’d wanted to ride in the Tour de France?

  It didn’t take five minutes when they returned to check with Pomereu and Inspector Nadauld, of Uniformed Branch, from whom they learned that, yes, indeed, a woman by the name of Suzy Vince had been stopped at the other side of the forest as she had emerged on her cycle. But she had identified herself quite frankly and had been dressed only in a blouse and skirt which couldn’t by any stretch of imagination have hidden a lot of money, a jewel case and two windcheaters.

  ‘It’s obvious what she did, Patron,’ Darcy said. ‘She hid it all somewhere – and I bet she knew those woods well enough to know plenty of good places – and picked it up later.’

  When they returned to the office. Claudie Darel was waiting for them. ‘Assault case, Patron,’ she said. ‘It seems a bad one. She’s in hospital. I think you’ll be interested.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Name of Suzy Vince. Aged thirty-one. No address given. She’s unconscious.’

  ‘Get out there, Claudie! Sit by her bed. And don’t move. We’ll relieve you when necessary. Listen to everything she has to say when she comes round.’

  As Claudie vanished, Pel turned to Darcy. ‘She did handle the loot,’ he said. ‘She was keeping it for Nick and when that damned fool from Paris started asking questions she got scared and bolted. What’s more, though she didn’t know how dangerous it could be, I think she had the bright idea of disappearing on her own with it. Why else was Nick looking for her? Why else was he in such a temper when Misset saw him at the Hôtel Centrale? He thought she might be there and it was a reasonable assumption. He beat her up because she was double-crossing him.’

  He picked up the telephone and rang Madame Bonhomme’s number. Aimedieu answered.

  ‘Anybody visited Lafarge?’ he asked.

  ‘Nobody, Patron,’ Aimedieu said. ‘The only people I’ve seen going in and out are still the wife and son. Lafarge himself hardly ever appears.’

  ‘I suppose he’s still there?’

  ‘He’s there, Patron. I’ve seen him through the window.’

  ‘Keep your eyes open. Things are moving.’

  Claudie rang soon afterwards.

  ‘She’s come round, Patron,’ she said. ‘She talked.’

  ‘Right. Come in. I’ll have you relieved at once.’

  When Claudie arrived, she was looking tired. ‘It’s as you thought, Patron. She agreed to help Nick because she didn’t like the Baronne very much. But the chance of wealth was too much of a temptation and she bolted with the loot.’

  ‘What about the jewels? Where are they?’

  ‘I asked her, Patron. I even tried pressing but the doctor wouldn’t let me press too hard. But she did say she hadn’t got them any longer and when I asked where they were she wouldn’t tell me. She’s scared stiff and she’s obviously been threatened. She admitted having had them but she wouldn’t say where they are now.’

  ‘I think I know where they are,’ Pel said. ‘Nick the Greek’s got them and he’s wondering how to pass them on to Lafarge because while he knows we’re watching him, he doesn’t know we’re watching Lafarge. We need a bug on Lafarge’s telephone.’

  Darcy grinned. ‘There’ll be a public outcry, Patron,’ he said. ‘We’re not supposed to indulge in dirty tricks like listening in to people’s conversations. Only crooks are allowed dirty tricks like that. Judge Brisard would never approve.’

  Pel gave him a sour look. ‘I’ll see Judge Polverari,’ he said. ‘He has a much more realistic attitude.’

  Twenty

  Judge Polverari raised no objections. ‘Somebody’s bound to cry “Foul”,’ he pointed out. ‘Counsel for the defence, for a start, if you pick up Nick the Greek.’

  ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ Pel said,

  ‘You’re supposed to prove the tapped telephone’s being used by suspected felons or conspirators, or that it’s being used to further illicit enterprises and that the tapping could lead to the apprehension of the felons or the prevention of the furthering of illicit enterprises.’

  ‘If Nick the Greek gets away with the De Mougy loot,’ Pel said, ‘that’s a felony, and if he’s plotting with Lafarge for its disposal that’s an illicit enterprise.’


  ‘You’ve convinced me,’ Polverari smiled. ‘I’ll sign your warrant.’

  Within an hour, they had a man knocking on Lafarge’s door claiming to be a telephone repair man and, because they’d had some trouble on the line, could he have a quick look at the telephone? Ten minutes later he reported to Pel’s office that the wire was tapped and that the listening apparatus was set up in an empty building behind Lafarge’s house, from which an extra line had been run to the bedroom at Madame Bonhomme’s where Aimedieu watched. Brochard joined Aimedieu and a round-the-clock surveillance began.

  Almost immediately, Aimedieu called in on Madame Bonhomme’s telephone. ‘I think Nick’s in touch with Lafarge,’ he said. ‘Someone telephoned him this morning and Lafarge told him to be careful. He sounded as if he might be suspicious and mentioned “telephone repairmen”. What do I do?’

  ‘Lafarge won’t move in a hurry,’ Pel said. ‘I don’t think he’ll dare. Just keep watching. I’ll attend to the other thing.’

  Darcy found him studying a map of the area round Lafarge’s house. ‘Lafarge’s worried about our telephone men,’ he said. ‘Aimedieu’s not certain, but he thinks Nick’s been in touch and been warned off.’

  ‘What are we going to do? Remove the tap?’

  ‘That won’t help. If Lafarge’s worried, he’s going to be looking over his shoulder all the time from now on. Even if he decides there’s nothing wrong with his telephone, he’ll still be watching.’

  ‘Suppose we persuade him it’s not him we’re interested in but someone else round there. Georges Ballentou for instance. He must know Ballentou lives there. He’s only a couple of streets away in the Rue Louis-Levecque. He and Nick were inside together so he must be aware of him. Suppose we lay on a phoney raid on Ballentou. Think he’ll agree?’

  ‘He’s been very careful,’ Pel said. ‘And he’s well aware that being well in with us will be an asset in the future. Let’s try him.’

  Nosjean had visited Ballentou’s house more than once – and not always to see Ballentou. His visits had been informal and concerned with Imogen Wathus rather than her uncle. Watched with a certain amount of benign agreement by Ballentou, he even took her out to a meal.

  It wasn’t hard to persuade himself it was in the line of duty and they talked for five minutes about Ballentou and the shooting of Richard Selva, before going on for the rest of the evening to the more interesting subject of each other.

  Imogen Wathus was hardly bigger than a sparrow but she had the appetite of a horse. ‘It doesn’t seem to make any difference,’ she said. ‘I try hard to put weight on but I can’t manage it.’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps it was living alone. Perhaps it’ll be easier now I’ve come here to live.’

  She had lost her parents as a child and had had to learn very early to look after herself, which was why she had welcomed the chance to share Ballentou’s house. ‘It just makes you feel wanted,’ she said.

  Nosjean’s heart skipped a beat and he said he couldn’t believe that she wasn’t wanted.

  Her eyes lit up and she smiled again, feeling better and more at home. Her smile managed to make Nosjean feel better too.

  ‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘How some places feel better than others?’ She paused. ‘I didn’t come here just because I got a job here. I had to leave Epinal. There was a man. He let me down. He promised all sorts of things but then he just walked out on me. I began to feel I couldn’t rely on anyone and had to have a change. It feels different here. I get on with my uncle and–’ her eyes met Nosjean’s ‘–well, I just feel it’s easier to trust people.’

  Thanks to Imogen Wathus, Nosjean had got to know Ballentou fairly well. When Darcy tried his idea on him, he thought the idea would work.

  Ballentou was brought in quietly and the whole thing explained.

  ‘All it involves,’ Pel said, ‘is a big show and then for you to lie low for a day or two.’

  Ballentou wasn’t very keen. ‘I’m trying to pick up a few threads,’ he said. ‘It isn’t easy. Everybody still goes on thinking I’m on the make when I’m not. A thing like this could cause the whole thing to go wrong.’

  ‘We’ll attend to that,’ Pel pointed out. ‘We’ll make it right. You can be sure of that.’

  Ballentou was still suspicious. ‘What do I get out of it?’ he asked. ‘So far I haven’t got much from going straight and staying straight.’

  ‘Well, you won’t get your name in the paper,’ Pel admitted. ‘That’s for sure. Because a few of your friends might not agree with you giving aid and comfort to the flics.’

  Ballentou smiled and Pel went on. ‘But I can arrange for you to be paid and see that you get every help we can give you in the future towards getting a better job. We don’t forget people who help. A bit of security and the police behind you in your efforts to rehabilitate yourself ought to be an advantage.’

  Ballentou considered. ‘I’d want it making clear after it was over and I’d been released that I wasn’t guilty of anything. I couldn’t afford for anyone to have doubts.’

  ‘That can be done,’ Pel said.

  ‘Even a story in the newspapers about me?’

  ‘We don’t tell the newspapers what to print, but we’ll issue a statement. A good one.’

  Ballentou thought it over and nodded. Then he held up his hand. ‘There’s one other thing. I don’t want anybody to know I’ve been helping the police.’

  ‘Who’s “anybody”?’

  ‘If Nick the Greek’s involved in this,’ Ballentou said, ‘then probably so is Pépé le Cornet. He wouldn’t let it go if Nick’s picked up.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Someone keeping an eye on my place.’

  Pel glanced at Nosjean. They could hardly say someone had been watching it for some time now.

  ‘We’ll attend to it,’ he said.

  Pel took the matter to the Chief and Judge Polverari and they discussed it back and forth for a while. The Chief wasn’t keen that the police should appear to have made a mistake but he was keen to get the De Mougy loot back and in the end he agreed.

  The following morning Aimedieu telephoned again. ‘Same type rang, Patron. Lafarge told him to be quiet.’

  ‘Any names? Any hint of his identity?’

  ‘No. None.’

  ‘Keep watching,’ Pel said. Things had suddenly started going their way. There’d been a bank hold-up in Lyons two weeks before which would give them the excuse they needed. ‘And don’t get excited if you hear police cars.’

  That afternoon, as arranged, two police cars, sirens wailing, raced through the Rue Dolour and slid to a stop in a cloud of dust outside Ballentou’s house in the Rue Louis-Levecque. A knot of gaping spectators quickly gathered on the sidewalk, among them, it was noticed, Lafarge’s son. Two uniformed men made a show of pushing everybody back then Lacocq and Morell came out with Ballentou, who was putting on a good show of arguing.

  Darcy followed them.

  ‘If people will talk on the telephone–’ he said loudly to Lacocq.

  Imogen followed Ballentou, in tears. As she saw Nosjean among the police, she ran to him.

  ‘What’s happening? Why are they taking him away? He’s done nothing!’

  Nosjean took her arm and pulled her aside. ‘He’ll be back tonight,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s not being arrested. He’s helping us.’

  She pounded on his chest with her small fists. ‘That’s what they always say. “Helping the police with their enquiries.” He’s behaved himself. He’s caused no trouble. I know he hasn’t. He’s a good man now. He went wrong when he was young but not now. He hasn’t been in trouble since the day he was last sent to prison. Only that one time.’

  ‘Which one time?’

  ‘He had a fight.’

  ‘With a warder?’

  She shook her head irritatedly. ‘It was another prisoner. It was nothing. Just some dispute. You don’t know what it’s like being in prison.’

  Nosjean managed to
calm her down. ‘He’s not being arrested,’ he assured her again. ‘He’ll be back in twenty-four hours.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You mean all that shouting’s put on?’

  ‘And very well too.’

  ‘Promise me you’re not arresting him?’

  ‘Look,’ Nosjean said, ‘trust me.’

  She calmed down at last and gazed up at him. The smile in her eyes had gone and they were puzzled and worried and concerned all at the same time, and in addition there was something else – a need to trust Nosjean.

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  She was silent for a moment, staring at him, beseeching him not to lie to her, then the smile reappeared. It seemed to light up the whole street and made Nosjean’s heart skid about under his shirt.

  ‘All right.’ She sniffed and dabbed at her tears. ‘I trust you.’

  That night, Ballentou was quietly taken home. Nosjean got permission to do the driving. During the journey Ballentou was silent, then suddenly he looked at Nosjean.

  ‘Are you serious about Imogen?’ he asked.

  Nosjean was startled. ‘I hardly know her,’ he said.

  Ballentou laughed. ‘That’s the way I thought it was,’ he said. ‘But she’s obviously got it bad.’

  Nosjean shrugged. ‘Well, I’m sorry. I don’t move as fast as that. But I’ll be honest. I like her very much. I’d like to get to know her better.’

  Ballentou touched his arm. ‘That’ll do for me,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t like her spirit to be broken like my daughter’s was, and she might need someone to look after her.’

  ‘What’s wrong with you? You’re not that old.’

  Ballentou shrugged. ‘No. But you never know, do you?’

  A statement was issued to the press. The whole lot of them trooped in: Sarrazin, the freelance; Henriot, of Le Bien Public, the local rag; Fiabon, of France Dimanche. Pel gave them the statement solemnly. ‘The hold-up in Lyons,’ he said. ‘We had reason to suspect the man we picked up but it turned out that it couldn’t be him and he’s been released. There isn’t a stain on his character. We had to have him watched but it turns out there’s an explanation. We’ve now got to search elsewhere.’