‘Good afternoon, gentlemen.’
She shook hands with them, returned to her desk and seated herself behind it. Then she offered them seats in what were presumably chairs reserved for patients.
She did not beat about the bush either. She had the attitude of a head teacher interviewing senior pupils and had an antagonising way of seeming to hold the whip hand from the start.
‘I see from your card, Chief Inspector Lindemann, that you are from Geneva. Superintendent Littlejohn, I observe is from London. On the face of it, I assume you are from the Federal police?’
‘No, doctor. I am from the Geneva city force and my colleague is collaborating with me on a case which involves London as well as Geneva …’
‘I must ask you to explain …’
Lindemann could have commented that she hadn’t yet given him a chance, but hadn’t the time.
‘… This affair was reported to the police at Rolle, who, in turn passed on the information to the headquarters of the cantonal police at Lausanne. An Inspector from Lausanne has already been here and interviewed those concerned. I fail to see …’
‘Excuse me, madam, but I must ask you what affair you are talking about. Does it concern the matter of a murder in Geneva?’
‘No. An attempted suicide by one of our staff.’
‘Nurse Albertine Durand?’
‘I see you know about it.’
‘We do not. But such an event ties up with the case we are investigating.’
Dr. Fauconnet rose, took two or three prowling steps round her desk, and ended up at a window, gazing out across the valley, with her hands behind her back. She didn’t even look at the two men as she passed them, but seemed lost in her own meditations.
‘Tell me about the case.’
She remained with her back to them still.
Lindemann flushed to the roots of his fair hair.
‘If you will be good enough to be seated again and face us, it will be much easier to discuss the affair with you.’
She smiled for the first time, as though humouring him, but returned to her chair.
‘Is that better?’
‘Thank you. Briefly, on Thursday night, about eight o’clock, an Englishman named Alec Cling was murdered in Geneva. In the course of our investigation it has come to light that Cling had an association with a certain Albertine Durand, a nurse in your clinic. We called in the hope of interviewing Miss Durand. We thought she might be of help to us in our enquiries.’
‘And you, Superintendent Littlejohn … I take it you speak French … Yes? You are here because the man was English?’
‘Not exactly. Cling was found dead in my car. He was a detective assigned to the security of a British cabinet minister in Geneva; and in the opinion of the Swiss police and myself, the enquiry calls for an English police officer. That, briefly, is why I am with Chief Inspector Lindemann.’
‘I see. I’m sorry it will be quite impossible for you to see Miss Durand. She left Les Plaisances for her night off last Thursday and, although she was due, according to rules, to return here before midnight, did not reappear until early the following day. She then had the appearance of having walked the streets all night. Later, she was found unconscious in her room, having taken a large dose of sleeping tablets … phenobarbitone. She was discovered only just in time and suitably treated. She is still suffering from shock and is unable to see anyone.’
‘Have the local police not interviewed her?’
‘No. I said she could not see anyone. The matter was reported to the local police, who contacted Rolle, and, in turn, the cantonal people sent an officer from Lausanne. Nurse Durand was still unconscious when he arrived, but on the way to recovery. We promised to notify the police as soon as she could talk with them. They know us well enough at Les Plaisances to be sure we will co-operate fully with them. That, I’m afraid, is all I can say and you, too, will have to wait.’
‘Miss Durand is, according to our files, aged around thirty-five to forty …’
‘She is thirty-five …’
‘Rather small, but robust, brown hair, dark eyes …’
‘Blue … Rather a strange combination with dark hair.’
‘And she had a lock of grey hair at the front among the dark.’
‘Quite correct. You have the rough particulars of her. It seems to me that she is the one you’re seeking.’
‘Can you tell me something about her?’
Dr. Fauconnet removed her spectacles and rubbed her eyes as though the whole subject bored her.
‘What do you wish to know?’
‘How long has she been at Les Plaisances?’
‘Eight years. Before that, she was for many years a nurse in the hospital of Le Bon Samaritain in Berne.’
‘She is a good nurse?’
‘It depends on what you mean by good. She is a trained mental nurse and hitherto her record has been excellent. Since she has been at Les Plaisances her behaviour on and off duty has been above reproach.’
‘And now?’
‘I was not unduly surprised by what happened last Thursday and Friday. I have been interested in her for some time past. She has over the last twelve months shown signs of emotional change and I judged she had a lover. She had not, of course, in any way grown silly or frivolous or careless in her duties, but a sudden temperamental change in a woman of her age might be due to either sex or religion. I guessed it was the former. She took to visiting Geneva more frequently and seemed happier and more energetic.’
‘You say you weren’t surprised at her recent behaviour.’
‘At thirty-five, disappointment or treachery tend to hit the victim hard and cause emotional upheaval. One is not so resilient as in one’s teens or twenties. It was obvious she had been betrayed and had taken a short cut out of reality. She is a sensible girl and when this is over I don’t anticipate a recurrence. I think it would be unfair to dispense with her services and when Dr. Binger, the superintendent, returns, if he agrees, Nurse Durand will resume her duties here. In this place, we regard such occurrences as illnesses, like a mental bilious attack, shall I say.’
‘Have you, doctor, or anyone else seen the man in question around this place?’
‘No. But in her time off, if she hadn’t enough of it to allow of her going all the way to Geneva, she has gone to the village, or sometimes to Rolle, dressed up and more fastidiously groomed than once she was. She must have been meeting her lover nearer home.’
‘The movements of all your staff are recorded?’
‘Not exactly. They are free to go where they wish, provided they return to time. But anything extraordinary happening to staff or patients is reported to me. The matron usually learns such things and mentions them during our daily conferences. This is not gossip, Inspector. You must realise that in a clinic such as this, staff and patients are more emotionally bound together. Nurse Durand’s affairs did not escape notice.’
‘I see. It seems that she had arranged to meet Cling in Geneva last Thursday. Did she leave Les Plaisances with all her possessions?’
‘No. She had apparently removed the bulk of them before then. She took one suitcase with her when she left, saying to a friend that she was taking things to the cleaners on the way. Her room was later found more or less empty. Her suitcase had been deposited in the cloakroom at Cornavin Station, Geneva. We found the ticket in her purse and later claimed the bag. The rest of her belongings will be recovered as soon as she can tell us where she left them.’
‘Cling had apparently arranged a rendezvous for Thursday. He himself had booked a ticket to Zürich. There was not a similar ticket in Nurse Durand’s purse?’
‘No.’
‘Then he was about to desert her from the looks of it. We think he planned going to America. He didn’t turn up at the meeting place. According to the time arranged, he was either defaulting or dead. Miss Durand waited for him and, finally, the truth must have dawned …’
‘There was a copy of the Geneva
morning paper on the table of her room when we found her. It reported the death of Cling. She must have bought a copy and read the news.’
‘And tried to kill herself.’
‘That is to be assumed.’
‘There is a chance that Nurse Durand may have murdered Cling.’
‘It would seem so.’
Dr. Fauconnet might have been dissecting a patient’s case before admitting her to the clinic. It was all done coldly, methodically, almost with relish.
‘Cling was obviously fleeing for some reason and Miss Durand was connected with the flight. You see, therefore, how important it is that we obtain a statement from her as soon as possible.’
‘Yes. But she cannot be questioned now. We will see what the night brings for her. If she is fit tomorrow morning, I will telephone you and arrange a brief session. But it must be brief, and I will not have her disturbed by questions which will agitate her. You fully understand.’
‘I do. And now, doctor, I would like to see the matron.’
Dr. Fauconnet frowned at Lindemann.
‘Why? There is nothing she knows that I cannot tell you about this affair.’
‘I would prefer to see her. And to make the matter seem less official, I would like to interview her without your being there, please.’
Littlejohn felt a glow of satisfaction. Hitherto the doctor had dominated the interview. Now, they were making progress.
‘This is a most inconvenient time, Inspector. Dinner will be served soon and …’
‘All the same, I would like to see matron immediately.’
No reply.
‘Of course, if you wish, she could call at the police station in Rolle. We could interview her there. I don’t know how my friend Superintendent Littlejohn feels about it, but I don’t propose to cool my heels here until dinner is over.’
‘Very well. I’ll send for her. You may interview her in the ante-room. But I think this is quite uncalled for.’
She rang through on the internal telephone.
‘Miss Petimaître. Please come to my room.’
Matron wore a white coat and her general appearance was starchier than the doctor’s. She herself was starchier, too. It was quite obvious from the start that she was under the latter’s thumb. A tall bouncing Aryan of around fifty, with fair hair swept back and tightly gathered in a bun at the back of her head.
‘You rang, doctor.’
She bared her even teeth in a smile which reminded Littlejohn of a talking doll.
‘These gentlemen are from the police and wish to interview you about Nurse Durand. The ante-room is free and you may see them there.’
And Dr. Fauconnet opened a file on her desk and began to read it without again looking up.
The ante-room was small and very high. It gave the claustrophobic sensation of a confessional box, presumably to condition callers for their reception in the doctor’s office. There was a table in the middle and the police and the nurse sat round it on three chairs like a trio of plotters.
Miss Petitmaître, tight-lipped now and stubborn-looking, was obviously going to treat the visitors with a high hand. Lindemann therefore thought it well to deflate her a bit.
‘Name, please.’
Matron paused as though wondering whether or not she was a suspect. She had left Dr. Fauconnet’s office backwards, like a suppliant leaving the royal presence, but judging from her expression, especially the steel blue eyes, she had determined to treat the detectives as patients.
‘Really. Is that necessary?’
‘If you please.’
‘Madeleine Petitmaître.’
‘Age and place of birth?’
‘Forty-nine. Villeneuve, Vaud.’
Lindemann wrote them down in his book although Littlejohn had the impression the details didn’t matter to him at all.
‘You know Nurse Durand well?’
‘Yes. She has been with us eight years.’
‘How long have you been here, matron?’
‘Twelve years.’
‘And you have found Miss Durand reliable and devoted to her duties all the time she has been with you?’
‘Yes.’
There were no signs of pleasure now from the flashing teeth. The lips were tight and the brow like thunder.
‘Has she at any time in the past attempted to take her own life?’
‘Certainly not. She has hitherto been a very sensible girl. I don’t know what came over her.’
‘Didn’t you? You doubtless knew that she had recently taken to herself a lover?’
The matron raised a monitory hand.
‘She would hardly have confided in me about such a matter.’
‘But you knew, all the same. Did you ever see the man?’
‘I did not.’
‘To your knowledge, was Miss Durand on very friendly terms with any of the patients here?’
‘I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘Let me explain. It seems to us that, for some reason, her lover, who, by the way, was murdered in Geneva last Thursday …’
Matron didn’t move a muscle. She evidently knew all about it.
‘Cling, the dead man, might have had some reason for wishing to contact someone in this clinic, either in the course of his official duties as a detective or for other purposes. His best way of approach might have been through the nursing staff. Nurse Durand, let us say.’
‘I really don’t know what all this is about. I don’t understand why I’ve being interviewed at all. I know nothing about Nurse Durand outside our professional relationship. I shall complain about this to Dr. Binger when he returns.’
‘You’re a strange kind of matron, Miss Petitmaître. I always understood that a woman in your position in a hospital was a sort of mother to her nurses and in their confidence.’
‘You’ve no need to be offensive.’
‘And you have no cause to be unco-operative, matron. You are obviously holding something back from us. Something you didn’t hesitate to tell Dr. Fauconnet in your daily reports.’
‘I still don’t know …’
It was becoming obvious she was too afraid of Dr. Fauconnet to speak freely without her consent and was of no use at all.
‘Has Nurse Durand a personal friend, a confidante among the staff here?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘If you don’t tell me what you apparently know, I shall go into the clinic and ask the same question of the first member of the staff I meet.’
‘Nurse Hodler.’
‘I wish to see her, please. Where can I find her?’
‘At Belalp. That is the châlet across the park there.’
‘Kindly send for her.’
‘There is a telephone across to Belalp in my office.’
‘I will come with you whilst you ask for her. I won’t have you threatening her or telling her just how much to say, in the way Dr. Fauconnet has done with you.’
‘I protest.’
‘Shall we go?’
He asked Littlejohn to excuse him and left with the matron.
It was quite still. Somewhere in the building someone was playing the piano beautifully. One of Liszt’s Consolations. Littlejohn rose and looked through the window at the park darkening in the dusk. This aspect of the case was becoming a holiday to him. The energetic Lindemann was naturally doing all the work, referring to him now and then for advice or approval. It was Lindemann’s territory and Littlejohn felt like a visiting student seeing how it was all done.
There was a faint tap on the door and a head appeared. It was Cardinal Richelieu. He was panting with hurrying.
‘Forgive the intrusion, please. I saw you looking through the window and thought I might catch you alone if I hurried.’
He slid round the door, through which came a gust of the fine piano music, and carefully closed it.
‘That is Max Hitz playing. He had a breakdown and often plays to us before dinner. The trouble is that once he starts to play it is difficu
lt to get him to stop. But I must hurry. I called to ask you once again, if you are going back to Paris kindly to remind His Majesty that I am still here and would like to return to court. There are a number of us here and he seems to have forgotten us. Myself, Monsieur Archimedes, Molière, and the very gracious English lady, Cobb …’
A door closed somewhere and before Littlejohn could question him further, Richelieu put his finger over his lips, said ‘Remember’, and crept away.
10
Room 14
‘WE WILL NOT detain you further, matron.’
Mlle. Petitmaître looked as if she hadn’t heard aright.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘We will interview Nurse Hodler alone.’
‘This is … this is highly irregular, to say the least of it.’
‘I don’t see why.’
‘Very well.’
She stalked from the room with as much dignity as she could muster, head high, nostrils dilated. It was obvious that her next port of call would be the office of Dr. Fauconnet to report the affront.
‘Please sit down, nurse.’
Nurse Hodler was around thirty, dark and good looking, with large eyes and full lips. She was obviously enjoying the discomfiture of the matron. She was quite undismayed by the presence of the police, looked Lindemann straight in the eyes and, as he cleared his throat and put on, as best he could, his official manner, she enjoyed his slight awkwardness, too.
No name, date and place of birth this time!
‘You have been at this clinic how long?’
‘Three years.’
‘And before that?’
‘Le Bon Pasteur, Zürich, for eight years.’
‘You are a close friend of Nurse Durand.’
‘Yes.’
‘For how long?’
‘Three years.’
Lindemann cleared his throat again. Then he glanced at Littlejohn to see if the Superintendent approved his method of attack.
Littlejohn had his back to them and was looking through the window. The sun had gone down over Geneva, dark was rapidly gathering and the pavilions and châlets in the grounds were showing lights. All details of the surrounding hills were gone and they stood out etched in masses on the skyline.
Death of a Shadow (An Inspector Littlejohn Mystery) Page 9