“No. I didn’t touch any of them.”
“Did you hit or pull at any of the anchors?”
“As I said, I didn’t touch any of the stuff which your men had fixed around the place.”
There was further long discussion before she spoke to him again. “Usually you are asked to read what the sergeant has written and sign it to say you agree that it is a fair record of what was said. However I have pointed out that your poor knowledge of French would mean that you can’t honestly do that. So it will be left for now. The sergeant says that if anything results from the enquiry which might involve you, your lawyer would be able to have this part of the report translated independently and you could sign it then or change it if you wished. He will put a note to that effect on the report.”
“Does that mean I can go?”
She addressed this question to the policeman. Philip detected a shake of the head in the middle of the loquacious exchange. There seemed to be a lot of discussion on this request. At last she looked back at him.
“The sergeant says that his enquiry will continue for several days. He needs first to be able to go and check the place where Andre’s body was found. To do that he will need some special help which he may get later today, but it may not be until tomorrow. Also Andre’s body has been sent to Toulouse to establish the exact cause of death.” Her exhalation of breath was close to a sob. “That may take several days. Until he is able to finish his report he wants to be able to get in touch with any of the witnesses. If you lived in France you would be able to go home provided you left an address and telephone number so that you could be called back if necessary. However, because you are a foreigner, he wants you to stay in the area -preferably in Quillan.” She had the grace to look embarrassed. “I have told the sergeant that there are spare rooms at our hotel. He would be pleased if you would agree to stay there until the investigations are complete.”
“What if I don’t agree?”
She addressed the question to the sergeant. His reply was long and involved. She turned back to him. “He says that might cause a problem.”
“What sort of a problem?”
“He says that an allegation has been made against you. Therefore he cannot let you leave France until the matter has been looked into.”
“Is he saying I’ll be stuck in prison?”
She spoke again to the policeman whose reply was once again convoluted.
“He says that decision would not be his to make. But the examining magistrate has the power to detain people who are refusing to co-operate with his enquiry.”
“I see.” Philip smiled ironically. “It looks as though I don’t have any choice. But how will people treat me at the hotel if I stay there? Am I going to be treated like a murderer?”
She took a breath. “I’m sorry about it, Philip.” He noticed it was the first time she had used his first name. “However I will say to you that I do not agree with Gaston. I’m sure you aren’t responsible for Andre’s death. So I promise you that I will personally do everything I can to make sure that you are not badly treated at the hotel.” She looked at him appealingly. “Will that help?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Thank you.”
“Now - the sergeant tells me that he wishes to accompany you to Carcassonne to pick up your luggage. He will drive you in the police car and you can collect your car from the parking place outside when you return. Can you wait outside until he’s ready?”
That final request didn’t make him feel any less like a suspect.
- 11 -
The gathering at dinner in the Hotel du Chateau in Quillan that evening was a restrained affair to say the least. Jacqueline was there, of course, closely attended by Gaston. One of the other archaeologists was present as well - a young fellow called Armand - together with a young woman called Jeanette, who was wearing a rather revealing dress and seemed to be doing her best to bring some brightness to the evening. The four of them made up a private quartet. The other three men who had been at the police station were absent.
Philip kept to himself, sitting alone at his table and trying to avoid watching the archaeologists, although he was very interested in what he could make out of their conversation but struggled to understand them with his limited French. Unsurprisingly, they seemed to be talking mainly about the events of that morning. Jacqueline was clearly very upset by the death of Andre Jolyon. Philip gathered that the dead man had been her second in command. He wasn’t quite sure what the personal relationship had been between them.
The man who obviously intended to step into the vacancy left by Jolyon was a small but well-muscled character who Philip had discovered was called Gaston Lesmoins. The fellow seemed to regard the newly-arrived Englishman with a great deal of suspicion. This was the man who had alleged that Philip was responsible for Jolyon’s accident.
For himself, Philip felt less than happy with the way things had developed since he arrived at le Bezu. Following the questioning at the police station, the sergeant had driven him back to Carcassonne to collect his baggage. The policeman had obviously decided to try and take the opportunity to talk to the person in reception at Philip’s hotel to see if they could add anything to his story. He doubted whether the man would have had much success.
They had then driven into the town centre to look at the bistro where Philip had his meal the previous night. However the place was closed so there was nobody who was able to support his story. Throughout the journey there and during the return to Quillan the policeman scarcely spoke more than a dozen words to him, mainly asking directions. Philip had a distinct feeling of discomfort. He wasn’t actually being treated as a criminal but he was obviously a suspect.
Arriving back at the hotel, Philip was allocated a room on the top floor under the eaves. Jacqueline was there to explain that this was provided to him at a special price at the request of the police. However there was no lift and no porter volunteered to help him, so he had to carry his bags up the four floors on his own. This made him feel even less welcome.
So, after completing a satisfactory meal, he decided to take a break from the disagreeable atmosphere in the dining room and have an exploratory walk round the town. There was apparently no restriction on his movements in the locality. It was a splendid evening which had followed the beautiful spring day. Nevertheless the air was fresh and sparkling, with a hint of coolness and Philip was grateful for his padded jacket.
The town of Quillan was strung out along the banks of the river which threaded its way through the steep-sided valley. At one stage the road ran almost beside the river. There were seats beneath the plane trees that stood on the sloping grassy bank and Philip chose an empty one to sit and watch the sun gilding the castle and the houses beneath it on the opposite hillside. As the evening advanced, the bright sunshine gradually abandoned the lower buildings to the gloom of dusk until only the castle remained, lit up by the pink glow from the last of the setting sun.
There was now a decided chill in the air and Philip was considering returning to the hotel when he became aware of another person on the path close to him. He looked up and saw that it was Jacqueline Blontard. She looked surprisingly small and vulnerable, wrapped up in a light-coloured puffer jacket with the collar turned up and most of her long dark hair tucked away out of sight. Once again he noticed the startling blue of her eyes.
“Oh!” He stuttered. “Oh! Bonsoir ma’mselle.” To his own ears the greeting sounded slightly foolish.
She didn’t immediately respond but continued to look at him for a few moments. Then she came straight out with, “I have challenged Gaston to say why he thinks you had something to do with Andre’s fall from the cliffs.”
“And what did he say?”
“He says that Andre told him that you were going to be trouble. But he admits he didn’t know why Andre said that.” She looked straight at him. “Did you have any previous contact with my assistant before you came le Bezu?”
“I promise you,” he said sole
mnly, “that I had never seen him before yesterday.”
She shook her head. “I thought you would say that.”
She came and sat on the seat beside him, looking up at the last of the sunlight fading from the castle walls. However he noticed that she kept a space of a couple of feet between them.
“Don’t you believe me?”
She remained quiet for a while, apparently digesting his comment. Then she turned to face him, the renewed energy in those bright blue eyes flashing at him. “Of course I want to believe you. But I have questions in my mind. Please tell me exactly why you came here.”
Philip was surprised by her sudden question. For a moment he felt an insane urge to tell her the whole story. Something made him want to make this remarkable woman trust him, to give him a sympathetic hearing. But the next moment he hesitated, aware that he was a foreigner invading the private space of the archaeologists. They would have a different attitude to his search for Phillipe de Saint Claire’s treasure - if it existed.
After a brief mental struggle he said, “You heard what I told the police sergeant. Everything I said was the truth.”
“Hmm.” She appeared to chew over his comments. “But did you tell him everything?”
He was surprised by her perception. Had she somehow managed to guess that there was more to his story than he had revealed to them so far? Or was she just fishing for useful information? After a few moments thought, Philip decided it was too early in their relationship to tell her any more.
So he shrugged. “I told the police everything that was relevant to the accident.” He looked back up at the castle, now darkly etched against the evening sky. “I want to be as helpful as possible.”
“The story you told the sergeant interested me,” she said. “That bit about your grandmother - was that all true?”
“Of course.”
“She sounds a remarkable woman. Please tell me about her.”
He shrugged. “What is there to tell? She was typical of the type of self-reliant English women who made Britain great in the Victorian age.”
“That makes her sound a bit of monster.”
“I didn’t think of her as being at all like that. She was always very affectionate towards me. But she was a very strong character. She’d had a very tough life. She was married to my grandfather just before the war and they had one son - my father, of course. Then grand-dad was killed in the war and she was left on her own to bring up my dad in the huge great house in Templecombe. That’s a village in South West England.”
“I’ve heard of it. I believe it used to one of the centres of the Knights Templars in England.”
“That’s right. Well, as a result of my grand-dad’s early death, she didn’t have much money and there weren’t any close relatives to help her. But somehow she made a success of it and built up the family fortunes and, at the same time, she managed to find out about the family history, going back to the time of the Cathars.”
“Go on.”
“Well - that’s it really.” Philip was being careful that he didn’t give too much away. “As I told the sergeant, she found out that this guy, Phillipe de Saint Claire, escaped from the slaughter of the Cathars at the end of the Albigensian Crusade when he was a young man and came to England. He bought a piece of land from the Templars and built a house on it which is still owned by the family. In fact, it’s mine now.”
“Did you say from the Templars? Do you mean the Knights Templar?”
“That’s right. Templecombe in Somerset was the location of the chief preceptory of the Templars in England.”
“So do you think this ancestor of yours - this Phillipe de Saint Claire - was a Templar?”
Philip shook his head. “I don’t know about that. All I was told was that he was a Cathar. Could he have been a Templar as well?”
“There’s no reason why not.” She paused. “What documentary evidence do you have to support your claim? You said that she had found some old papers. Have you got those papers?”
“Er - no. Not with me.” He felt bad about not telling her the whole truth, but how did he know what she would do with it if he told her about the journal? “I haven’t moved into the house yet.”
“But she told you to go and look at le Bezu. Where did she get the name from?”
“I think it was in the papers she found.” He pulled a face. “You must understand that I didn’t know anything about this until I received a letter from her after she had died.”
“And you came all the way down here as a result of what she said in her letter?”
“Well, she had left me a lot of money, and she especially asked that I came and looked at the place. I suppose she thought I would be able to find out more information locally.” He shrugged. “So - I was able to get a couple of weeks’ holiday, and here I am.”
“I suppose that’s fair enough.” She turned away from regarding him and looked at the river. She sounded disappointed.
“Meanwhile I’m trapped here while the sergeant completes his preliminary enquiry. I can’t leave the area to do any research. I don’t know what I’m allowed to do while I’m here.” He leaned forward. “Am I allowed to go for walks and to explore the surrounding countryside?”
She shook her head irritably. “Don’t be silly. All Sergeant Leblanc asks is that each one of us holds ourselves available in case he has any further questions. In the long run it will speed up the enquiry. There are no other restrictions on the movements of any of us.”
“Am I allowed to go up to the castle and poke around up there.”
He was watching her closely and saw that she was a little startled.
“Why would you want to do that? You won’t find any records of your forebears up there. It’s just a ruin.”
“Yes, but I only had a quick look round yesterday. I fancy the idea of getting a feel of what it was like for the occupants who were living in the place seven hundred years ago. Who knows? - that may have included my ancestor. Besides which, I’m interested in seeing anything which you’ve found out about the place.” He grinned mischievously. “Have you forgotten that you had promised to show me round and explain to me exactly what you are doing up there?”
Jacqueline had the grace to smile. Philip thought that it lit up her face with a rare beauty. “I think it would be unwise for any of us to go up there tomorrow. I understand the police forensic team are expected in the morning. They will be checking for clues of what may actually have happened to Andre last night.” Her eyes turned sad again. “I don’t somehow think that they would welcome members of the public being in attendance.”
“And what about you?” asked Philip. “What are you going to do while you have to remain in the area? Will you continue your excavations?”
She shook her head and the tears in her eyes made him want to hug her. “It won’t be easy. Andre wasn’t only a very dear friend. He was an important assistant and organiser. What do you call it?”
“Your right hand man?”
“Right hand man. That’s what I meant. I’d find it difficult to carry on without someone like him to organise things. However I will have to discuss what I must do with my principals.”
“Who are your principals?”
She didn’t answer him directly. “I rang my agent this afternoon. He will be here some time tomorrow. He will advise me what I must do next. I’m hoping he’ll be able to arrange the right sort of support for me.”
“But you won’t simply give up and pull out?” It seemed important to him that she should continue with her exploration, even though it might make things more difficult for him personally.
She shook her head. “I don’t think I would be allowed to do that. A lot of things depend on what we are doing here. There’s a whole television series planned around the story of the Albigensian Crusade and the crushing of the Cathars.”
“It’s all sounds most interesting.” Philip stood up. “So - will you keep your promise to show me round the excavations when the
y start up again?”
“Of course.” She smiled up at him in that heart-stopping way that she had. At that moment he could easily understand how she had become the darling of the French television audiences.
He saw her shiver and he was suddenly aware that it was almost dark. This special little interval was at an end. He held out a hand to her and she accepted it to rise from her seat. Disappointingly, she immediately let go of it again.
Nevertheless, as they walked back to the hotel in a companionable silence, he felt that, as far as she was concerned, he was less of an outcast than he had been earlier.
- 12 -
It had been after midnight on the Tuesday when Alain Hebert got back to the cottage after his abortive visit to Marseilles. On the way back he had stopped near Montpellier for a meal and a rest and that had delayed his progress.
The cottage had been empty when he went in. It disappointed him a little. He had hoped that Cesar might have been waiting for him, anxious to hear about her father. After all, she had a key to the back door. She could have lit the wood fire and might even have had a bottle of red wine warmed in preparation for their chat.
On consideration though, he acknowledged that it was really his own fault that she wasn’t there to greet him. He had always refused to carry a mobile phone, holding the view that his contacts with other people would be when he wanted them to take place, rather than at any casual moment when they chose to phone him up and destroy his privacy. So he guessed she had probably been there earlier and had given up waiting for his return. As a result it wasn’t until the following evening that he was able to discuss his visit to Marseilles with her. By then he had heard about the death of the young archaeologist at le Bezu.
Cesar arrived at her usual time of seven o’clock carrying the bag of supplies which she habitually brought with her. Alain was in his seat on the terrace in front of the cottage. On the table beside him was a bottle of Bordeaux and the two glasses, his own already half-empty. He rose and filled her glass as she drew near.
The Secret Of The Cathars (2011) Page 8