Pel and the Picture of Innocence

by Mark Hebden

  There were also two more of Maurice’s heavies, together with the man who’d been introduced as David Ourdabi, standing in a corner, tossing a set of keys up in his hand and as usual trying to look sinister in the Bogart manner.

  ‘I just never thought,’ Cavalin explained. ‘I thought you must have known. Confusion perhaps.’

  Pel looked like a snake about to strike. He had returned from the Pasquiers’ house the previous night full of whisky. There had been a second large glass waiting for him when he had appeared downstairs and his wife had had another ready when he returned home. He hadn’t slept very well because of indigestion and the thought that Yves Pasquier’s information had brought up something significant. But Cavalin had obviously been thinking of it, too, and was ready for him.

  ‘After all,’ he said, ‘he was hurt.’

  Pel looked at Sagassu. ‘You better tell us what happened,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sagassu lied stoutly.

  ‘Perhaps a week or so in a cell might help you remember.’

  ‘I didn’t see!’

  ‘Charge him under Section 62 of the Penal Code, Daniel,’ Pel said. ‘For refusing to give aid and assistance to the police.’

  ‘You’d better tell them what you know, Tonio,’ Cavalin said quietly.

  Sagassu looked sullen but eventually he started to talk. ‘I didn’t see,’ he insisted. ‘I was half asleep. It was warm and I’d had some wine. The next thing I knew I saw a car going past and heard shooting. I was hit in the arm and Maurice took one in the shoulder. Poor old Benno was just covered with blood. Then the car ran into the ditch and I fell out.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Maurice shouted to me to get Georges.’

  ‘Georges?’

  ‘Me,’ Cavalin said. ‘I’m Georges.’

  ‘What exactly did he say?’

  ‘“Tell Georges,” he said. “I’m going for the hut there.” He had a gun in his hand.’

  ‘This one?’ Pel produced the Walther they’d found.

  ‘Yes.’

  Pel produced the second gun. ‘And this, I presume, was in his pocket.’

  ‘I expect so.’

  ‘Did he shoot back at the men who killed Bozon?’

  ‘No. He was having difficulty keeping his feet. I fell out of one door and he got out of the other. I saw the other car stop and two men running after him. I was in the ditch. There was more shooting and then a bang. He never thought they’d have grenades. I decided I’d better bolt. I went through the woods.’

  ‘Did anyone give chase?’

  ‘I don’t think they knew I was in the car. Maurice was sitting up but I was half asleep and had slumped down. They probably never saw me so I thought I’d better do as I’d been told, and let Georges know.’

  Pel turned to Cavalin. ‘And that’, he said, ‘would be why you arrived armed to the teeth?’

  Cavalin admitted it. ‘We were supposed to look after Maurice,’ he said.

  ‘You didn’t do very well at it, did you? What were you intending to do?’

  Cavalin shrugged again. ‘God knows. Something. I don’t know.’

  Pel stared about him, aware of Sagassu’s hostile glare. The room had become silent and even Ourdabi had stopped fidgeting with his keys.

  ‘There seem to be a lot of heavies round here,’ Pel said.

  Cavalin smiled. ‘There are.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Including me, eight. Only I’m not a heavy. I’m a light. I look after the books. There’s one less now, of course. Bozon’s left. Unexpectedly. Sadly missed.’

  Pel glared. When he was on a job, only one person was allowed to be funny. ‘What are they all for?’ he demanded.

  ‘To guard, of course.’

  ‘Who? Maurice?’

  ‘Who else? Unfortunately, they seem to have slipped up. With the result that very shortly they’ll all be out of a job. With no Maurice to guard, there isn’t much else for them to do.’

  ‘I’ll have their names.’

  ‘Just the survivors?’

  Pel glared and Cavalin smiled. ‘Me – Georges Cavalin. Jim Peneau. Bernard Guérin. He’s the chauffeur. Edouard Shapron. Antonio Sagassu. Léonard Devreux. David Ourdabi.’

  ‘Who else is here?’

  ‘The cook. Madame Goriot. Two gardeners – by name Sérin and Mouiche.’

  ‘Maids?’

  ‘We look after ourselves in that department. There’s also Sidonie, of course – Maurice’s wife. And Vlada, Maurice’s… er…secretary.’

  Pel turned back to Sagassu. ‘Who dressed your arm?’

  ‘Some type Georges sent me to.’

  ‘Some old friend of Maurice’s?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Because he didn’t inform the police either, did he? What’s his name?’

  ‘Dunois. Dr Alexei Dunois. ‘Cavalin supplied the information.

  ‘Did you tell him not to inform the police?’

  ‘No. Perhaps he never thought.’

  Pel turned again to Sagassu. ‘Why didn’t you inform the police?’

  Sagassu shrugged. ‘I told Georges. I thought he’d tell you.’

  ‘So why didn’t he?’

  Cavalin smiled. ‘It slipped my mind.’

  ‘How? I mentioned you’d arrived quickly. Why not tell me then that you’d been informed by Sagassu what had happened?’

  Cavalin shrugged. He was a great shrugger.

  ‘You said you’d heard shooting and thought somebody had been after a rabbit. What with? A machine gun?’

  Cavalin’s smile came again. It came easily. ‘You’d be surprised what people carry. I’ve seen them setting off after rabbits with everything but a cannon. We’re a nation of hunters. It’s a pity we so often miss the rabbits and hit each other.’

  Pel scowled. ‘You knew somebody had been shooting and that they’d shot Bozon and Tagliatti. You probably didn’t know they’d ended up besieging Maurice in the hut and finally throwing a hand grenade at him, but you must have known he was being attacked. That’s why you arrived armed like a set of paratroopers. But you didn’t tell us that. Why not?’

  ‘I was only concerned with getting down the hill to see what had happened to Maurice.’

  ‘So why didn’t Sagassu telephone us after you left? He must have known we hadn’t been informed.’

  ‘Perhaps he was scared,’ Ourdabi prompted.

  ‘Yes, I was,’ Sagassu said quickly. ‘I was.’

  ‘Why didn’t you remain with the car? Two of your friends had just been shot. Didn’t you stop long enough to make sure they didn’t need help?’

  Sagassu looked shocked. ‘Would you?’ he asked.

  Pel stared at him. ‘Why did you come all the way back here to give your information? Why didn’t you stop at Les Tarthes, the Roblais farm, just round the corner and up the hill? Why stagger all the way up the hill, with a bullet in your arm, to this place?’

  ‘There was a telephone here.’

  ‘There’s a telephone at the farm. If you look, you can see the wire.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t look,’ Sagassu growled. ‘And I felt that someone needed to inform the police.’

  ‘But nobody did inform the police, did they?’ Pel snapped. ‘The first the police heard of it was when they received a call from the Roblais farm. From Gilles Roblais, who found the car a good ten minutes after you’d left it and while, I suppose, you were on your way up here through the woods. You informed Cavalin, but Cavalin didn’t inform the police. He got in another car and went down to see what had happened.’

  ‘I intended to inform the police,’ Cavalin said.

  ‘You had a telephone. So why not use it at once?’

  ‘I suppose I was like Sagassu here – shocked by what had happened. I was concerned for Maurice. Sagassu arrived in a bit of a state, covered with blood and with a bullet in the thick part of his upper arm. You’d be shocked, Inspector–’

  ‘Chief Inspector.’

&nb
sp; ‘Of course.’

  ‘Are you sure he didn’t come all that way back here just to warn you?’

  Cavalin’s eyebrows went up. ‘Warn me of what?’

  ‘That somebody had just shot Maurice.’

  ‘Why would I need to be warned?’

  ‘So that if there were anything that needed tidying up you’d have plenty of time to do it, before we arrived.’

  ‘What would I have that needed tidying?’

  ‘You could have had all the plans you’d made to have Maurice shot.’

  Cavalin’s eyes hardened. ‘I think I ought to have my lawyer here, Inspector.’

  ‘Chief Inspector. There’s one other point. We’ve discovered why Maurice wasn’t using the Cadillac. It was because it was already in use. Somebody was sitting in it in the city. Close to the Hôtel de Police. Where he could clearly be seen. He was dressed in Maurice’s clothes and he was there a good half-hour, and he was seen. The man who saw him thought he was Maurice. What was all that about?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Cavalin’s shoulders moved again. ‘Maurice didn’t tell me everything he got up to.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Well…’ Cavalin hesitated. ‘I’ve learned it was Léonard Devreux. He came back after you left. The driver was Bernard Guérin. He’s been with us a long time.’

  ‘I’d like to see him. Devreux too.’

  When they appeared, Devreux and Guérin added nothing. Devreux was one of the bouncers they’d seen surrounding Tagliatti when Pel and Darcy had paid their ‘courtesy’ call. He was big and fat and looked vaguely like Maurice.

  ‘Why were you wearing Maurice’s suit?’ Pel demanded.

  Devreux shrugged. ‘It’s not Maurice’s,’ he said. ‘It’s mine. He gave it to me. I was the same size. He often gave his old clothes to me.’

  ‘It wasn’t old. He was wearing it when I last saw him. It didn’t look old then.’

  Devreux shrugged again. It was obvious he’d been well briefed. Pel could just imagine the hurried conference that had been called and the roles everybody had been given to play.

  ‘He said he didn’t like it,’ Devreux went on. ‘He took against it, he said. I don’t know why. It cost a lot, I know. He said he liked it when he bought it but then decided he didn’t. I’d once said I liked it. Perhaps that’s why he gave it to me.’

  ‘And the hat? Did he give you that, too?’

  Devreux’s shoulders moved again. ‘It went with the suit.’

  ‘Why was the car in the city at the time Maurice was being shot?’

  ‘We just went in, that’s all.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Personal business.’

  ‘What personal business?’

  ‘I had to see my lawyer. Arnaud Dugusse. He’s Maurice’s lawyer, too. But he wasn’t in and we had to wait until he was.’

  ‘Did you have an appointment?’

  ‘It wasn’t an appointment. I just went on the off-chance. My wife’s been giving me trouble. We separated. There’s a lot of fuss going on about the kids. I love my kids and–’

  ‘Why were you using Maurice’s Cadillac? Why was he using a Peugeot and you the Cadillac?’

  ‘Maurice went off in the Peugeot. So we took the Cadillac. We always did that. We used whatever car was available.’

  ‘You went before he did. Or you couldn’t have been near police headquarters when he was shot.’

  Devreux pulled a face.

  ‘Why did Maurice go in the Peugeot?’

  Devreux shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just took the Cadillac. Bernard here said he’d drive me.’

  ‘Don’t you drive yourself?’

  ‘I’ve never been good in cities.’

  ‘It’s his eyes,’ Ourdabi said quickly.

  ‘That’s it,’ Devreux agreed. ‘It’s a condition I have with my right eye, you know. I don’t see out of the corner of it. I don’t see cars coming from the right. They’re a blur.’

  Devreux was lying stoutly, Pel knew. ‘Always?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Bad?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘What about the other eye?’

  ‘That’s bad too.’

  ‘Very bad?’

  ‘Yes. Very bad.’

  Pel had a malicious look in his eye. ‘Have you a driving licence?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Let me see it.’

  He stared at the document silently. ‘No indication here that you have bad eyesight,’

  ‘Well, no…’ Devreux fumbled a little. ‘I took it out before it grew too bad.’

  ‘And now it’s very bad.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Pel handed the driving licence to Darcy. ‘Hang on to that, Daniel,’ he said. ‘He’s obviously not fit to hold a licence with those eyes of his. He’ll be having an accident. Arrange with Traffic to have it cancelled.’

  Devreux’s mouth dropped open and Pel gave him a spiteful glance. Darcy grinned and so did Cavalin. They both knew Pel’s game. He was just making things as difficult as he could for Devreux, as he always did for anyone on the wrong side of the law.

  ‘So,’ Pel said. ‘You went into the city with Guérin here to drive you.’

  Devreux nodded, looking faintly sick. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good friends?’

  ‘Always have been.’

  ‘So why didn’t you sit in the front with him where you could talk? Why sit in the back as Maurice did?’

  Devreux thought hard. ‘Bernard said, “Why not ride in the back and pretend you’re Maurice?” So I did. That’s all. He joked about it.’

  ‘How? I’ve had a look at that Cadillac. It has a glass partition between the driver and the passenger. I expect Maurice had it put in so he couldn’t be heard when he was discussing business.’

  Devreux was unperturbed. ‘Bernard had the window open. It slides backwards and forwards. We chatted through that.’

  ‘And if I get in touch with Dugusse, I expect he can confirm that you saw him?’

  Devreux nodded. ‘I expect so.’

  So did Pel. He knew Dugusse. He was a lawyer from the shiftier end of the legal scale. He’d represented Maurice on more than one occasion in the past and earned his income from defending crooks of various types when they came before the beaks. He knew every inch of the law and how to get round them.

  ‘Where was Maurice when you left?’

  ‘Looking at his roses.’

  ‘So he hadn’t left when you did?’

  ‘Well, no. He liked his roses. He always said he’d like them for his funeral.’

  ‘I expect he’ll have them,’ Cavalin observed. ‘That’s something we can manage. Not from here, of course. Bit windblown up here. We’ll have to get them from Fleurs de Bourgogne in the city. Maurice’s wife will want it that way.’

  Pel looked up. ‘What about Maurice’s wife? How did she take it?’

  Cavalin shrugged. ‘As I thought she would. There were no tears.’

  ‘Who benefits from Maurice’s will?’

  ‘She does, I imagine. I don’t know. Maurice had his faults–’ too right he did, Pel thought – ‘but he has two children and he would have prepared for them and for his wife.’

  ‘What about the other one? This Vlada. She was his secretary, wasn’t she?’

  ‘So he said.’ Cavalin’s face changed. ‘I doubt if he’d got around to providing for her. But he might have done it in other ways. I wasn’t privy to his family affairs.’

  Outside the door, Pel paused for a moment, listening. When he reopened the door Devreux was just in the middle of a wild gesture, shouting at Ourdabi.

  ‘You’ve lost me my goddamned licence, you stupid con–’

  He saw Pel and smiled sheepishly.

  ‘You can always appeal,’ Pel said benignly. ‘Of course, it might not work.’

  ‘See that it doesn’t, Daniel,’ he rapped as he closed the door again. ‘Make your report good and strong.’

  It was a sm
all victory but they were really getting nowhere. Cavalin did not have a police record but plenty had been turned up about him. As a young man he had considered going in for law and had studied it for a while until, doubtless, he had realised there was more money to be made from being on the wrong side of it. Certainly, like the late Maurice Tagliatti, he had proved himself a master of caginess. Nothing they had asked had startled or agitated him, his answers always as cool as those of a master barrister in a law court.

  Sagassu had warned him. After he had escaped the blast of gunfire, his first thought had clearly been to warn Cavalin that whatever it was Maurice had been contemplating was off and, since he had just been shot to death, his alibi obviously had to be off, too.

  ‘I have to see the Chief,’ Pel said as they left. ‘To let him know the developments. Go and see this lawyer, Dugusse, Daniel, and send someone to see the doctor.’

  ‘There’s only Misset available.’

  ‘Well, even Misset ought to be able to take a statement, and the lawyer’ll be much too bright for him.’

  The lawyer, Dugusse, was a flashily dressed individual who could twist the rules until they squeaked. As they’d expected, he confirmed everything Devreux had said.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘I’m handling his affairs. His wife’s being very difficult so he has my permission to call on me any time he finds it necessary.’

  He was full of confidence, arrogance even, certain he could field anything the police could throw at him. Dr Dunois was different. He was a shabby-looking man with a large moustache stained by nicotine enough to put a smoker off for the rest of his life. His surgery was a dusty place, full of books, and there didn’t appear to be much going on there. His wife acted as his receptionist and, by the look of it, he didn’t have many patients and probably had to live off shady cases like Sagassu’s.

  He regarded Misset nervously. Cadet Darras from Pel’s office was with Misset as a witness to what was said – it was always wise to have a witness present – and Misset was showing off a little. He adjusted the dark spectacles he wore and put on his James Bond face as he explained why he was there.

  Dr Dunois gave a nervous cough. ‘Yes,’ he admitted slowly. ‘A man called Sagassu was brought here.’

  ‘With a bullet in his upper arm?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘You received him?’