One Green Bottle

by Curtis Bausse

  ‘Strawberry. Not just a blob, he emptied, like, half a jar.’

  ‘And what was the book?’

  ‘The Everything Guide to Raising a Toddler.’

  An icy spasm ran through Magali’s blood. ‘He knows you’re pregnant.’ She slammed her palm down on the steering wheel. ‘My God, he’s sick,’ she muttered through clenched teeth. Then, ‘Don’t tell Luc. He’ll only want to come back and he’s better off where he is. I’ll call him later.’

  The light turned green. Magali blasted her horn at the driver in front. ‘Magali,’ said Sophie as the car leapt forward, ‘Do drive carefully, won’t you?’

  Chapter 29

  When the Clio hit 160 kph, it started to shake so much you wondered what was holding it together. But Magali kept her foot down hard, speed traps be damned. She had no illusions – her presence in Sentabour a few minutes sooner or later would not make a spot of difference. Sophie was safe in the station, the world would continue to turn and the killer, wherever he was, would be plotting his next moves just as before. But she’d rather be talking to Marty – screaming at him to believe her – than helpless and fuming on a motorway. And at least she’d be with Sophie. If the killer burst into the station wielding an axe, at least they’d be together.

  But the killer wouldn’t do that. He was cunning, stealthy and devious. He circled and watched, and pounced when the moment was right.

  She called Marty from the motorway, moving into the middle lane do so. Not so much a matter of reducing speed but bringing the noise level down to a point where she could hear what he was saying.

  ‘Yes, I’ve sent someone round. And as soon as I’ve finished talking to your daughter, I’ll be there myself.’ She recognised his tone of voice. It was one she used herself when trying to be polite to an awkward customer in the Spar. ‘If your man turns up at her house, we’ll be the first to know.’

  ‘Daughter-in-law,’ she corrected him. And the killer is anything but ‘my’ man, he should have been yours a long time ago. ‘And if she wants to leave the station, make her wait till I get there. She’s not to go anywhere on her own.’

  ‘I think she’s old enough to be making her own decisions.’

  ‘I hope you realise by now,’ she said through clenched teeth, ‘that we’re dealing with someone extremely dangerous.’

  ‘Believe me, Madame Rousseau, we’re giving this all the consideration it deserves.’

  Was that sarcastic? There was something in his attitude, she felt, that had changed. A little less hostility perhaps – not that he was making an effort to replace it with anything approaching kindness.

  ‘What about the book? Any clues there?’

  ‘Your daughter-in-law arrived here barely fifteen minutes ago,’ said Marty. ‘I’m still trying to hear what she has to say.’

  ‘All right. One last question, then. Why has Daveney been released so soon?’

  ‘If you were to stop driving,’ said Marty, ‘I could tell you.’

  ‘Arsehole!’ she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, before she tossed the phone aside. She moved back out to the fast lane and pressed her foot into the floor.

  She was approaching the toll booth thirty kilometres from Sentabour when the phone rang. ‘Where are you?’ said a gruff, angry voice.

  ‘Paul!’ She held the phone to her chest and groaned. This is all I need! ‘I’m in the car. Where are you? What happened? They let you out?’

  ‘I went round to see you. Twice. Where are you?’

  ‘Paul, stay away from my house.’ She shouted above the clatter of the car. ‘It could be dangerous. You know that.’

  ‘Bullshit! That’s an excuse.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You don’t want to see me. He’s not coming back and you know it. You just don’t want to see me.’ He was breathing loudly, as if he’d just been running. He let a couple of seconds pass, then said in a low voice, ‘That’s all right. I just want you to know I’m going to kill myself.’

  ‘Yes, Paul, I want to see you, I want to see you very much.’ Anything to placate him. ‘But I’m not joking. It so happens I have proof the killer is stalking us in Sentabour. So I advise you to stay away from my house. If you want, we can meet elsewhere. In…’ Somewhere peaceful, somewhere he might calm down. ‘Why don’t we say the church?’

  There was a brief pause. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  ‘No, Paul! I’m on the motorway, I’m at the toll booth, give me half an hour, all right?’

  ‘You thought it was me, didn’t you? That’s what you told them. “It was Paul Daveney. He’s got to be locked away for the rest of his life.” All the time you were pretending –’

  ‘No, Paul, I never said –’

  ‘I was your toy. OK, you’ve got more important things to do than listen to people like me. Fair enough. But you shouldn’t have let me believe you were trying to help. I thought you were sincere.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, Paul. I am sincere and I always have been but if somehow I let you down, I’m really sorry. I understand you’re upset. I want to talk to you and I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hang on, I need to pay.’ She put the phone down, inserted her ticket and bank card and accelerated away.

  ‘Paul?’ she said, picking up the phone again. Then, ‘Shit!’

  A policeman was beckoning to her to pull over to the side. ‘Paul, I’m being stopped by the police, I’ll call back as soon as I can, all right?’ She stashed the phone in the glove box, rolled down her window and put on her most charming smile.

  ‘I’m sorry, Officer. I was putting it into silent mode.’

  ‘By speaking into it?’ He nodded sarcastically and took a leisurely stroll round the car. He checked the insurance and MOT stubs on the windscreen. He stooped to examine the tyres. Then he was back at her window. ‘May I see your licence and insurance, Madame?’

  She got out of the car. ‘I’m very sorry,’ she said. ‘I’d never normally answer but it was an emergency call. I’m a psychotherapist and a client of mine is threatening to kill himself. I need to get to him urgently.’

  A mocking sneer. Good try. Full marks for imagination. He examined her papers, took out an electronic device from his pocket and started entering details. ‘Threatening suicide, eh? Do you know how many deaths occurred last year as a result of people phoning at the wheel?’

  ‘Look, I was at the toll booth. It wasn’t as if I was actually driving.’

  ‘You receive a call, you pull over to the side, no problem.’ His stylus jabbed at the screen. ‘You don’t accelerate away.’

  She bit her tongue. Several more minutes passed while he finished entering the details. Then he made her sign the screen in recognition of her offence. He said she’d be getting a fine and points would go on her licence. He explained the procedure, and the reasoning behind it, in detail. Magali stood meekly nodding as he milked the situation for all the enjoyment he could get.

  As soon as she was back in the car, she grabbed the phone. She dialled Paul’s number. There was no answer.

  She turned to see the policeman staring at her in amazement. Resisting the urge to stick out her tongue, she put the phone in her bag, did up her seat belt and drove off.

  ***

  The church was locked. She hadn’t thought of that. You always assume that churches are places you can go to for comfort whenever the need comes upon you. She’d imagined sitting in a pew with Paul, low voices murmuring in the soothing dimness of the church. But he wasn’t there.

  He could have waited in the porch but he hadn’t. Perhaps he hadn’t come to the church at all. She didn’t think he’d really try to kill himself, but she didn’t know him well enough to be sure. Neither, for that matter, could she be very sure that he wouldn’t kill someone else.

  She sat in the porch for a couple of minutes, shivering. Somewhere in Sentabour, a manic-depressive in a hot-blooded rage and an all too cold-blooded psychopath were on the loose. And both were after her and her
family.

  She clasped her hands together and gnawed at her knuckles, pondering. Then she took out her phone and dialled.

  ***

  ‘You’re going to Paris,’ said Magali as she led Sophie out of the police station.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve phoned Charlotte. No problem. She’ll put you up for as long as it takes.’

  ‘I’m sorry… For as long as what takes?’

  ‘For as long as it takes for us to find him.’

  Magali wasn’t exactly sure who ‘us’ was. It might have been her and Balland or her and Vincent. Or both. Her and Roudy, why not? Anyone to reassure her she wasn’t all on her own. What she wanted was someone there by her side, someone who knew as well as she did how the killer worked. Preferably someone with a gun.

  By that test, though, she was entirely alone. The ‘us’ was just a way to fool herself she wasn’t.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Sophie. ‘I’m half-way through a commission.’

  ‘What’s more important, a sculpture or your life?’ Magali pointed at her daughter-in-law’s belly. ‘And I don’t need to remind you it’s not just yours we’re talking about.’

  ‘Why Charlotte?’ Sophie was none too happy at having her life hijacked. ‘It’s not that I don’t like her but I’ve got friends of my own I can stay with.’

  ‘This man knows what he’s doing. How do we know he hasn’t been reading your emails? You’re safer with someone he doesn’t suspect you’d go to. I’m putting you on the train myself and you’ll stay with other people at all times and phone me when you get there. I’ll phone Luc and tell him to join you there straight from Nice. Neither of you are coming back here till he’s caught.’

  ‘Can I take some clothes?’ said Sophie, spreading her arms helplessly. ‘A toothbrush?’

  ‘What if he’s at your house?’

  ‘I thought he’s supposed to be in Clermont-Ferrand.’ She was almost laughing. ‘Besides, Marty’s there with a whole battalion of police. Aren’t you taking this too far?’

  ‘Sophie,’ she said. ‘He’s a mad, dangerous, psychopathic serial killer. You can’t go far enough with someone like that. All that time I was thinking he might turn up in Clermont-Ferrand, he was actually coming after you. He probably never set foot in Clermont-Ferrand. We only know he was in Le Puy. Yesterday. Which gives him plenty of time to be here now.’

  ‘If I’m going to Paris, I’ve got to have some clothes. And my sketchbook.’

  Magali sighed. ‘All right.’ They got in the car and she headed towards the house. If Marty was there, it was true, they had to be safe. And at least it would give her a chance to see what he’d found.

  ‘What about you?’ said Sophie. ‘You’re coming too, I presume?’

  ‘No. I’m going to stay here.’

  ‘No way.’ Sophie wagged a finger at her. ‘You’re not bundling me off to Paris while you stay here.’

  ‘He’s after you, not me. You’re the one who got the book.’

  ‘You got one too, remember? And he killed Antoine at your place. And before me, it was Luc. Frankly, I think he’s after all of us.’

  She was right, of course. He was out for revenge and he didn’t care how he got it. Magali wasn’t sure what to reply. Finally, raising a hand from the wheel, she said, ‘I’m not sure I can trust Marty.’

  ‘That’s why you’re staying? You don’t trust the police to do their job?’ Sophie tossed back her head. ‘Now that is stupid.’

  ‘I’m not going to take any risks.’

  ‘So simply being here is a risk for me but not for you?’ Sophie folded her arms. ‘I’m not going unless you come with me.’

  Magali was silent for a while. Sophie was making perfect sense. And having no solid argument to offer, she ended up saying, ‘All right, you win again.’ She didn’t say that if they both went to Charlotte’s, the killer would be more likely to track them down. ‘I don’t know what’ll happen if he disappears, though. We can’t stay there for ever.’

  ‘But the hunt is on for him now. They’re bound to catch him.’

  Magali wished she could feel as optimistic. ‘All right, your place and my place to pick up some things. Then Paris.’

  At Luc and Sophie’s there was more activity than expected. Marty was walking round the perimeter of the garden with three policemen in tow; a fourth was standing by the front door.

  ‘Well, he seems to be taking it seriously, anyway.’ Magali parked the car and got out.

  ‘More than can be said for my reception at the station. They thought I was being hysterical.’ Sophie pulled a face. ‘Well, I suppose I was, but even so.’

  When Marty spotted them, he gave some instructions to his men, who dispersed, before striding over to greet them. ‘We’ll be keeping an eye on the place throughout the night. If it’s all right with you,’ he said to Sophie, ‘I’ll put a man inside with the lights on. Make it look as if you’re at home.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘You think he might come this evening?’

  ‘We’ll be ready for him if he does,’ said Marty with a shrug. He turned to Magali. ‘You were in Clermont-Ferrand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘A bit long to explain.’ Magali gestured to the house. ‘You’re really going to town here. Have you come up with something, or what?’

  ‘Not here.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘A wild-goose chase, basically,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I was keeping watch on a house. Like you are here, except on my own. But this is the one to be watching – I was led astray.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’ Marty furrowed his brow. ‘The reason we’re going to town, as you say, is that news came through not long ago of a murder in Clermont-Ferrand. Fellow by the name of Metot.’

  Chapter 30

  ‘Where are you going?’ said Sophie when Magali missed the turning towards her house.

  ‘Do you mind if we just drive round for a bit? I’m looking for Paul.’ She told Sophie about the phone call. ‘He makes me feel so guilty. I know I shouldn’t but I do.’

  ‘I think it’s called manipulation,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Absolutely. And he’s good at it. And I’m lousy at resisting.’

  ‘Do you seriously think he’d kill himself?’

  ‘No. But if by any chance he did and I’d just gone off to Paris without at least looking for him…’ She turned to Sophie with a helpless smile. ‘I’ve been trying to call him but he’s not answering. I suppose because he knows it’s me. Maybe if you tried from your phone?’

  But he didn’t answer Sophie either, which meant he’d decided to cut himself off from the world. ‘Probably just switched off his phone,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Or himself.’ Magali drove slowly, glancing to left and right, but she saw no sign of Paul. The Christmas lights in the main street seemed to be out of place, as if someone had made a monumental mistake. How can the world be festive, she wondered, when the forces of dark are at large?

  They reached Paul’s house and she drew up opposite. ‘The bell doesn’t work. Can you try the landline?’ She gave Sophie the number but again no one answered. ‘Lucille’s pretty much a recluse. Her only contact with the outside world is through Paul. Unless you count all the letters she writes to world leaders.’

  ‘Wherever would we be without her, I wonder.’ Sophie peered up at the house, grey and forbidding in the gathering dark. ‘There’s a window open up there.’

  ‘I think it always is. She’s a great one for fresh air.’ Magali got out and rattled the gate but no one stirred in the house and no light went on. She got back in the car. ‘We’ll just take a look by the church. Then I’ll feel I’ve done all I can.’

  ‘You already have, I’m sure. He’s hardly your responsibility now.’

  Magali was silent for a while as she considered it. As Marty had explained, Paul was now officially in the clear. On the day of Antoine’s death, a cou
ple of men in a helicopter, conducting a geological survey, had spotted a man at the top of the Mataroc, waving. Thinking he was in distress, they swooped lower. When they saw he was fine, they continued their work, but not before taking a picture. You couldn’t see Paul’s features clearly, but his clothes were the same as in the picture taken half an hour earlier by the two lads in search of wild boar. Together with Magali’s evidence, it was enough for the charges to be dropped.

  When Magali praised the thoroughness of his work, Marty had grinned a little sheepishly and suggested she read La Provence. It was all down to a certain Thierry Krief. Magali made a note to send the detestable man a message of thanks. Not that it helped to assuage her guilt over Paul. She, no less than Marty, had doubted an innocent man.