Napoleon's Police

by Michele McGrath

  Chapter 15

  After several days of fruitless searching for the man with the gold, I gave up and returned to the bureau to report my failure. I hoped that Réal, Laurent or Fournier, I didn’t care who, would find me something more productive to do. I was thoroughly bored and beginning to wonder about whether I should make an attempt to find another type of employment. Police work seemed to consist of long boring hours of doing the same thing over and over again or furious activity and tragedy. It had a similarity to being in the army, but more often than not I was alone and that made a difference. Before, I always had friends around me. I was even starting to become sentimental about some of the people I disliked, which was stupid. I knew that I would soon be forgetting the bad times, the blood and the loss and the pain. Perhaps it is like that for the old soldiers who talk about their memories, remembering the interesting times and forgetting the horror. I was too young for that. But it seemed to me that police work had most of the bad and little of the good.

  I pushed open the door of the Bureau and walked into a celebration. The room was overcrowded and Petit stood in the middle of it, shaking hands and being congratulated by the others.

  “What’s happening?” I asked Du Chesne who was standing inside the doorway.

  “Petit’s got his hands on Maître Chagrin at last.”

  “Has he?”

  “Petit’s been telling us the story. Apparently Chagrin tried to be a bit too clever for once and walked into a trap. There’s a jeweller down in the Rue Jacques that Petit knows. He arranged for some gems, which were likely to tempt Chagrin, to be delivered there and remain for three nights before they were shipped off. Petit put the word out in several places. He had the place staked out, even before the rumours spread and everybody waited. Sure enough, Chagrin arrived, went inside and they caught him climbing out of one of the windows with his booty in his pocket.”

  “Careless of him,” I observed. “I was told that he wasn’t the kind of man to walk into that kind of snare.”

  “They all get too clever in the end. There’ve been enough traps set for him, certainly, and he’s always avoided them before. He’s had the devil’s own luck and some narrow escapes. Don’t know why his luck ran out this time, though I dare say we’ll find out after Petit questions him. We’ve never even known what he looks like before.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Small, mean and ferret-faced, or so Petit said.”

  “He’s cock-a-hoop about the whole thing,” I said, looking at Petit’s face. For once he was beaming and his smile was quite genuine.

  “Well he might be. There’s a big reward for catching Chagrin. Most of the jewellers in Paris put up the money. They must think it’s worth it to get rid of the man.”

  “I suppose it must be to them,” I said.

  “Now Petit will be able to afford the kickshaws he likes so much. Perhaps he’ll even pay me back the ten francs he borrowed off me last month, if I’m lucky.”

  The crowd eddied and Petit came towards us. I didn’t like the man and wasn’t particularly pleased with his success. It would have been churlish of me, though, to say nothing to him. I held out my hand to him and said,

  “Well done, Petit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You off to question him now?” Du Chesne asked.

  “Soon. I’ve got a few things to do first. If he tells me where he’s stashed the hauls from his other robberies, we’ll really have a celebration.”

  “Good luck, then,” Du Chesne said, “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Petit left and most of the others did too. I looked around for Fournier, but he wasn’t among the crowd. Laurent was there, though, and he was the man I had to see. I waited until he was the only one remaining. He scowled at me as I went over to his desk.

  “Well, what have you got to tell me?” he asked.

  I took a deep breath and reported my failure to him, “I’m getting nowhere searching for the other bombers. No one recognises my descriptions, no one admits to having heard of any of these men. No more Louis d’Or have shown up among the other victims and no one has offered them any money. None of the informers have anything to tell me. He’s vanished; worse, it’s as if he never existed.”

  “Have you questioned the drivers of the diligences?”

  “Several times, especially the ones who drive the coaches going west towards Brittany. None of the drivers recognise the sketches, but the man could have disguised himself and left Paris for all that.”

  “Are you saying that’s what he has done?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s what I would have done in his place. Since there’s no word of him anywhere, perhaps he has.”

  He grunted, as if he had expected nothing better from me. By this time I was annoyed enough to say straight out, “I’m wasting my time, looking for this man. I’ve tried and failed, as you predicted at the start. I’ve been chasing a phantom. Surely there is something more profitable for me to do?”

  Laurent stared at me for a long moment and I wondered what he was thinking. Eventually he said, “Your friend, Fournier’s an optimist. I expected you to come in before this and tell me that you’ve failed. I agree that between you, you’ve wasted enough time. Fournier is watching the lodgings of a certain Citizen von Braun. He says he’s from Alsace, but we think he’s Austrian. He’s supposed to be a clockmaker, but he has few customers, certainly too few for him to live in the style he does. He has his workshop in a house at the top of the Rue de la Loi. Take over from Fournier. He’ll be there now and can brief you. Tell him to report to me. I was going to send Petit, but he’s got other things on his mind at the moment.”

  “You must be pleased with his success.” I wondered if the man would have the grace to smile. After all the capture was a triumph for his team.

  “Oh, I am,” he said, but there was no hint of any smile. His words sounded as if they had been forced out of him against his will.

  I left him there and went to relieve Fournier, as ordered. I felt relieved to be doing something concrete and not chasing any more shadows. But, as it happened, before I ever reached Fournier, I had a small and far more pleasant adventure of my own.

  Through the previous weeks, I had been nerving myself to call on Françoise Gilbert at a time when her daughter was at home. I had held back because my instinct told me it was too soon to approach the family. I couldn’t think of a good excuse either. Then fate took a hand in my affairs and provided the opportunity I needed, with very little effort on my part.

  Chapter 16

  I was walking to Rue de la Loi, past the Palais Royal. I wasn’t thinking about anything except my relief in being relieved of the hunt for the other bombers. Then I saw a woman ahead of me struggling to pass through the crowds with her heavy basket. No one made way for her and a few times she put her basket down to rub her back as if it hurt. That’s what drew my attention. She picked the basket up again and started to walk off, when a big burly man, going in the other direction, carelessly jostled into her. She stumbled and her basket was knocked out of her hand. She fell to the ground and several of her parcels scattered onto the dusty pavement. She yelped and scurried around on her knees, as she began to gather them up from beneath the careless feet of the passers-by. Nobody took any notice of the incident and her assailant was long since gone. She had an air of feverish anxiety about her movements. So I went over to help her and immediately received my reward. It was Eugénie Gilbert.

  Her face was once again streaked with tears. She looked quite distraught, even more so than the first time I saw her, immediately after her father’s death. Her eyes met mine and immediately dropped, as she scrambled forward and reached for yet another of her parcels. I picked it up for her, restored it to her basket, and helped her to collect the others. Then I assisted her to get to her feet.

  “Thank you, Citizen,” she said, hardly looking at me.

  “Don’t you remember me, Citizeness Gilbert?” I asked. At that she loo
ked at me properly for the first time. “I called on you the day after your father died,” I continued.

  For a second she looked confused and then her face cleared. “Oh yes, I am so sorry. I remember you now. You brought my mother some money. We are grateful to you.”

  “You’re shaking,” I said with concern. “Are you hurt?” Indeed her whole figure convulsed with a series of dry racking sobs.

  She shook her head. “No, or, at least, only my dignity, but all my parcels have been ruined and I cannot deliver them in the state they are in now.”

  “Are they important?” I asked.

  “Very much so. You don’t understand.”

  “I’m sure I don’t. Let me buy you some coffee while you tell me all about it. You can compose yourself and afterwards we’ll do something about your parcels. Perhaps they aren’t as damaged as you think.”

  “Oh, Citizen, they are so soiled and crumpled now.” Her tears began again, although she kept sniffing, trying to hold them back.

  “This will never do,” I told her, “Come with me, please.” I picked up her basket, took her arm and steered her into the nearest coffee shop, of which there were several in the Palais Royal.

  “What has happened to her?” The wife of the proprietor came forward when she saw Eugénie’s tear-stained face. She looked at me accusingly and I made haste to answer her.

  “A clumsy oaf knocked her over. Have you anywhere she might wash her face and make herself tidy?”

  “Of course.” The woman led Eugénie away and I sat down at a table and ordered coffee for both of us. I lifted the battered packages out of the basket and spread them on the table. They were of several different sizes and wrapped in paper, some of which had been torn and showed the contents. They all contained pieces of cloth. Several were crumpled, but only one had become completely undone and soiled by the people who stepped on it.

  Eugénie came back looking much better, now that she had washed her face and hands and put up her hair. She had not been able to remove all the dust from her skirt and there was a small rip in the sleeve of her jacket.

  She gasped when she saw the parcels. I thought for a moment that she would cry again, but she controlled herself and sat down on the chair I held for her. I poured out her coffee and gave it to her.

  “Drink it, it will warm you and then we can decide what to do.”

  “Citizen, this is no concern of yours and I have given you enough trouble already. I am sure I am keeping you from other things. I’m grateful for the help you already gave me.”

  “Not at all,” I said and it was true. “There is nothing that I have to do at this moment. I’m happy to help you if I can. Your father was my friend and he assisted me when I needed him to. I’m only returning the favour. Tell me what to do.”

  “I seem to spend my time thanking you,” she said and her watery smile changed her whole face. I caught a glimpse then of her true loveliness; the way she would look when she was freed from all anxiety and care. I felt my heart jump inside my chest. I never felt like that about another human being, before or since, although the moment when I held my first daughter came close. I found myself stammering and absolutely convinced that I did not want her to leave me. I wanted to know her better. Stupidly, I also wanted to protect her from all the oafs who might blunder into her for the rest of our lives.

  “It’s my pleasure,” I told her simply and I never said truer words.

  So we opened her parcels one by one. They contained rich materials, heavily embroidered with gold or silver thread. Mostly muslins, but one or two were of the sort of silk that my mother used to wear on special occasions and holidays. Maman cherished her one silk dress, for it was unlikely that my father would have bought her another. Indeed I wondered that he had given her one at all but then, the other merchant’s wives always dressed well. I suppose it was a matter of his pride.

  Eugénie smiled when she saw me puzzling over the parcels and explained. “I work for Leroy, the dressmaker. I’m one of his embroiderers and am learning to become a tailoress. Leroy’s terribly busy now. He’s popular with the court ladies, so he gave me some extra work to do for him at home. I’ve just finished these pieces and I was taking them back. Now I don’t know what he’ll say. This one is certainly ruined, it’s so heavily stained.”

  “Perhaps I can go with you when you take it back and explain what happened. After all I witnessed the incident and it wasn’t your fault.”

  “It’s a kind thought, but you don’t know Leroy. He won’t care whose fault it is, only that the piece is ruined and will have to be done again.”

  “What is the worst that can happen to you?”

  “He will refuse to pay me for what I have already done and let me go. I need the work now my father is dead. My mother has only a small pension to live on and my brother is still at the military school.”

  “There must be other dressmakers in Paris you could work for, if he lets you go.”

  A reluctant smile spread over her face. “Only a man would say such a thing as that. Certainly there are other dressmakers, but Leroy is the one everyone goes to if they are important and wealthy. Citizeness Bonaparte and all her friends buy their dresses from him. He isn’t a pleasant man to work for but he pays well, much more than any of the others. He can afford it.”

  “Then he must think highly of you to have offered you employment.”

  “My mother worked for him when he first started,” she said thoughtfully. “I think he offered me the job for her sake. She left the convent where she was at school before it was closed down. The nuns taught her how to sew and they were wonderful needlewomen. Maman taught me. I liked sewing, so it was natural that I would try to use that skill to earn my living. I was doing well at Leroy’s, that’s why he gave me the extra work. But now he will think I am too careless to trust.”

  “All may not be lost,” I said, fingering some of the material. “You have done a lot of work here and though I know little about such things, it looks complicated. Surely not every woman can sew like that? There is only the one piece that is badly stained and a couple more that are crumpled. If you press them out, we can wrap them up in clean paper and they will look well enough. Then you’ll need to replace only one piece. You could offer to do that for free, couldn’t you? It is not a large one after all.”

  “Yes I could do that. He’ll take the cost of the replacement material out of what he pays me, of course, but he might pay me for the rest if I repeat the lost work.”

  I went out and bought paper and string then I escorted Eugénie back to her home. No one was there when we arrived.

  “Maman must be shopping,” Eugénie explained. “She usually goes out about this time.” She stirred up the fire and set the smoothing irons to heat.

  While we waited, she tried unsuccessfully to wash out the stains from the soiled one. The dirt had, indeed, entered into the fabric and it was ruined. When the irons were hot enough, Eugénie pressed out the crumpled pieces carefully. No one could have told that they had been in an accident after she finished with them. Then we wrapped everything up in fresh paper, so they looked newly finished.

  I went with Eugénie to Leroy’s, carrying her basket to make sure no further mishap occurred. She would not let me go in with her, though. I wished her luck and I said I would wait outside, because I wanted to know what had happened after all our efforts.

  She was not there long and, when she came out, her basket was full again.

  “So it was not as bad as you thought it would be?” I said, taking the basket from her, despite her protests. “I am going to take you home again to make sure you get there safely. So tell me all about what happened.”

  “Leroy wasn’t there and old Tomas, one of the buyers, looked at my work. He has a soft spot for me, because I look like one of his daughters who died. He checked everything over and told me it was good, except for the soiled piece. He gave me some money and said that he’d tell Leroy what had happened if he asked, but he won’t
ask. He’s too busy and the ruined fichu isn’t wanted in a hurry. I must do that work over again and he took the price of the material out of the money he owed me, but it is far better than I thought.”

  “There is something for us to celebrate then.”

  “Indeed there is. I’m so grateful to you for helping me. I am rarely in such a state as you have seen me in twice now.”

  “Both times you had a good reason to cry. Let us talk about this celebration — do you like the Comédie?”

  “Very much, but I have only gone with Maman and Papa once or twice. They could not afford to go often and it was a great treat when we did.”

  “Then if your mother will allow me to escort you there, I will buy tickets for tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, no, I have a little money now. I can pay...”

  I smiled and shook my head. “It was my suggestion. It is enough that you will go with me.”

  “Then I will ask her and thank you. It will be a treat to look forward to.”

  I saw Eugénie home and found that her mother had returned. She was still looking pale, but far more composed than when I had seen her before. Eugénie explained what had happened and about my invitation.

  “I will take good care of your daughter, Citizeness, I promise you, or perhaps you would like to accompany us yourself?” I asked, hoping she would say ‘no’. “You would do me a great honour.”