Bellringer

by J. Robert Janes

  ‘They had been fighting—having a raging lovers’ quarrel,’ said Irène, now in tears. ‘My poor Caroline was distraught and coughing terribly. I knew her chest would be bothering her. Always when emotional, the asthma would come on at its fiercest.’

  ‘But she refused to leave—is that it?’ asked Hermann.

  ‘Inspectors. . . Inspectors, please, her heart,’ said Brother Étienne.

  ‘You found that elevator gate had been opened, madame,’ said Louis. ‘You couldn’t have known why this had happened but in such a state would have seen how it could well be used.’

  ‘I didn’t push that girl. I didn’t, inspectors.’

  ‘Caroline did leave that room and head back to her own,’ said Herr Kohler, ‘but as for Jennifer, she stayed put out of fear of encountering you.’

  ‘And Jennifer was the one she wanted to kill, Hermann, but then first Jill Faber and Marni Huntington came up the stairs and went along to their room, and then a half hour or so later, Mary-Lynn and Nora started up those same stairs. They were shouting at each other, the one in tears, the other claiming this whole business was a fraud.’

  ‘Again you waited, Madame Vernon,’ said Kohler. ‘You hoped Jennifer would hear them and leave that room. The corridor lights were blinking on and off.’

  ‘I didn’t wait, as you say, Inspector. I went downstairs to the toilet after the first two had gone to their room. Me, I tried to calm myself.’

  ‘And along that third-storey corridor, Hermann, Caroline stepped out of Room 3–38 with Becky close behind to steady her hand and light one of her cigarettes, even as Mary-Lynn fell.’

  ‘Having been pushed by that one, Inspector,’ said Élizabeth Chevreul, pointing at Nora.

  ‘Who had no reason to push her nor to even have accidentally done,’ said Louis. ‘You see, madame, Nora had stumbled and fallen behind and didn’t reach that gate and corridor until afterwards.’

  ‘Then who killed Mary-Lynn?’ she asked.

  ‘Perhaps it is that you should ask the goddess.’

  ‘Her gris-gris, Louis. You’d best hand it back to her.’

  Again hands were to be joined, eyes closed, but first all items were to be laid out inside the circle: Mary-Lynn’s suitcase with the things Jen had stolen and had tried to get rid of when it was taken away; the basket Bamba Duclos had used; and the last meal Jen had eaten: the pound cake, the empty stew pot, pie, and cup of tea; along with everything that had been found in Caroline’s pockets.

  A single wad of chewing gum was set beside papers of the same, Becky swallowing tightly, Léa laying a steadying hand on Madame Chevreul’s left shoulder, Madame Vernon, flushed and dabbing at her eyes.

  Marguerite Lefèvre stared emptily at the things Jen had stolen, until warned by Léa.

  ‘Cérès. . . Cérès, are you there?’ asked the medium.

  ‘I am here,’ came the distant answer.

  The bell was rung.

  ‘Can you reach Mary-Lynn Allan for us?’

  ‘Allan. . . Allan. . . ’ began Cérès. ‘She was climbing some stairs but says she turned to look back down them through the darkness, for the light had gone off. Nora was yelling at her, she says. Nora was telling her that it was all a fraud and that you, Madame Chevreul, had informants of your own and knew virtually everything that went on in the camp, each person’s personal history if needed, all the little things that would make each séance appear real. You had been in that other war as a nurse and knew what its front had been like for those who had fought.’

  There was a pause and then, ‘Is someone waiting to push her?’ asked the medium.

  ‘Yes, oh yes,’ said Cérès, ‘I didn’t know it then, but now.’

  ‘And is that person present in this circle?’

  ‘Yes, oh yes.’

  ‘Who is it, please?’

  ‘She was in tears and didn’t want to listen to what her friend was shouting at her,’ said Cérès. ‘She tells me that she reached her floor in darkness and started towards her room. The lights came on and she blinked to clear her eyes. There was someone, but this person had ducked back out of sight. She went on but was grabbed, shoved—pushed—pitched into space and knew she was falling. “I panicked,” she says. “I screamed and tried to grab hold of one of the cables but it tore my face and hands and turned me upside down and I knew I couldn’t stop myself. Down. . . down. . . Nora. . . Nora, you were my friend.”’

  The bell was rung by the medium, who then collapsed, Léa supporting her.

  ‘Ah, bon,’ said St-Cyr.

  The woman was revived—the brush of wet fingers across her brow.

  ‘Madame Monnier,’ he asked, ‘are you convinced the goddess said “Nora”?’

  ‘Oui.’

  ‘Then please have your mistress ask her to contact Herr Weber. Here is the ribbon that was in his sister’s hair when that one was tragically killed.’

  ‘Herr Weber, Inspector?’ blurted Madame Chevreul.

  ‘Has passed over, but before he did. . . ’

  ‘Must I?’

  ‘If you are to prove you still have your powers,’ said Louis, ‘and that the planets with their asteroids are aligned.’

  ‘Léa. . . ’

  Again she concentrated on the pendulum and gave the incantation, the ribbon having been stretched out in full view of the sitters and her.

  ‘Ask the goddess to ask him if he hadn’t desperately needed something to relay to Berlin that would ensure that Colonel Kessler was recalled,’ said Hermann. ‘Ask him if the suicide of the girl the colonel had made pregnant hadn’t been perfect?’

  Cérès’s voice was lost, the questions stammered by the medium who could barely find her own.

  ‘Ask him if access to the Vittel-Palace would have presented any problem to the head of security, especially if after curfew and lockup?’ continued Herr Kohler. ‘That side door’s laundry room would probably have been empty, especially at suppertime or after it.’

  When most would have been in their rooms or those of their neighbours and friends.

  ‘He could easily have gone down into the cellars, Hermann, and made his way through to that far wing to climb its stairs and wait, then unlock and open that gate when no one would suspect.’

  ‘The former smoking rooms, the location of the poker game, were well to that side of the main entrance,’ said Herr Kohler.

  ‘A risk, a gamble, oh for sure, Hermann, but they did take that far staircase. Had they not, Room 3–54 was close enough. Nora would most likely have gone into room 3–38 when they reached it while Mary-Lynn, remaining in the corridor, would have continued coming towards where he was hidden.’

  ‘He would first have heard Jill and Marni coming up those stairs, wouldn’t have known what the hell to do except wait.’

  ‘That would have put him right on edge, Hermann, but then he did hear the other two shouting at each other and could easily have identified them by the names they were using for each other. Parking his chewing gum, he would push the one or both if necessary since it didn’t matter to him so long as he could tell Berlin that Colonel Kessler’s mistress had taken her own life.’

  ‘Nora, if she’d also been pushed, having simply made the mistake of rushing to her assistance and falling as well, Louis.’

  They paused, letting all of that sink in, thought Nora. Again Madame Chevreul looked as if she would faint, Léa now with both hands on the woman’s shoulders.

  ‘But Caroline refused to be silent, Hermann. She had seen what had happened.’

  ‘A glimpse if that, Louis, but one she was absolutely certain of, though she couldn’t tell any of them and went so far as to even claim she’d been the intended victim.’

  ‘Had also just argued with Jennifer and had, I’m sure, discovered not only that she had never been loved but that Jennifer had used her and had been the one who had been stealing things.’

  ‘A money cowrie was found in one of Caroline’s coat pockets,’ said Herr Kohler, reaching out to place it
in Bamba Duclos’s little basket, ‘which she had, no doubt, planned to return.’

  ‘A Star of David,’ said St-Cyr, ‘was found crammed in a pocket—an object, Mesdames Chevreul and Monnier, that you told me Cérès had spoken of last night during the séance you held in the absence of that girl. Something about the Milky Way, I believe.’

  Again there was a pause, but this time it grew into a silence so deep, Nora felt she could hear the sitters’ collective hearts pounding.

  ‘A meeting place was needed, Louis, and a person to whom Caroline could entrust the note she had hidden in her collar.’

  ‘Unfortunately, mes amies, Jennifer knew all about this and went straight to you, her lover, Marguerite Lefèvre,’ said Louis, ‘to tell you not only what Caroline intended but that she greatly feared the girl would tell the new Kommandant who the thief was.’

  ‘That would, of course, have got straight back to Weber. Léa was all ears when you consulted her, wasn’t she, Marguerite?’ asked Herr Kohler. ‘You went straight to him, didn’t you, Madame Monnier?’

  ‘And he, having good reasons of his own to be concerned, suggested the Chalet des nes and that he would leave its padlock open since no one would question his having been near it,’ said St-Cyr.

  ‘Kessler had been recalled, so Weber could well afford to wait and let them deal with it first, Louis,’ said Herr Kohler, ‘but only if you, Madame Monnier, swore you’d come straight to him the moment the meeting was over and knew its result.’

  ‘And when Caroline left her room to go to that meeting, Madame Vernon, she had good reason to say to you, “It’s not what you think. You’ll know soon enough.”’

  ‘Marguerite Lefèvre,’ said Hermann, ‘you were told by your mistress and Léa to wait inside that chalet to convince that girl to say nothing, to just leave it or else. The Americans were conveniently claiming Mary-Lynn’s death an accident. Why take it further and bring trouble, why not simply let it rest?’

  ‘You see, mes amies,’ said Louis, ‘no other weapon or evidence of there having been one was found, hence we presume that girl’s killer didn’t want to physically harm, only to warn, but perhaps Cérès should be asked.’

  ‘You’re right, you know,’ said Marguerite with a shrug. ‘I didn’t mean to kill her. It. . . it just happened.’

  ‘Caroline knew you and Jennifer were still madly in love and that she had been lied to,’ said Hermann.

  ‘She wouldn’t listen. By then she had that yellow star in hand and was thrusting it at me and in tears as proof of Jennifer’s stealing. I warned her. She backed away and said she’d been in love with a thief who had never been in love with her but had stolen her heart, and that she was going to tell the new Kommandant not only who had killed Mary-Lynn but who had been stealing things, and then. . . then she would tell everyone else.’

  ‘You snatched up that pitchfork,’ said Herr Kohler sadly.

  ‘And then tidied the corpse—an impulse, perhaps—so as to make it look like Jennifer had done it,’ said St-Cyr. ‘Even though still in love with her, you had to save yourself.’

  ‘Which leaves us with that sprig of beech and coils of bark, Louis.’

  Nora knew she would have to tell them. ‘All right, I did go there but not until I saw Becky turning away. I had brought those for Angèle, but Étienne had used his petrolette, and I guess I. . . I must have dropped them in shock when I found Caroline like that.’

  ‘Which brings us now to another matter,’ said St-Cyr. ‘Marguerite Lefèvre, did you see Nora head towards that chalet after Becky had turned away?’

  ‘Oui.’

  ‘And did you not also see her from your windows, Mesdames Chevreul and Monnier?’

  ‘Since you know we did, so what?’ said Léa.

  ‘Hence Nora’s worrying that she would be pushed, Hermann, and Madame’s warning to us that Jennifer was in grave danger.’

  ‘Madame Vernon having hated that girl, offered answer to their little problem, Louis.’

  ‘You see, Madame Chevreul, you couldn’t have Caroline telling anyone that Jennifer had come to your maid for help and that Madame Monnier had then arranged for that meeting place, one that you could both watch even as the brother made a conveniently late arrival. Sergeant Matthieu Senghor, realizing that something was up, wisely ordered Corporal Duclos not to do as he had agreed.’

  Again there was an uncomfortable silence.

  ‘A photo had been borrowed by Caroline from Madame Vernon’s suitcase,’ said Herr Kohler. ‘I take it Jennifer imparted that knowledge to you, Marguerite, and where a key to that suitcase was hidden in Room 3–38?’

  ‘Inspectors. . . ’ began Élizabeth, only to be interrupted.

  ‘Madame Chevreul, you had to silence Jennifer and put the blame squarely on Madame Vernon’s shoulders,’ said Louis. ‘You had no other choice.’

  ‘That’s why you told us Jennifer was in great danger,’ said Kohler.

  ‘And why Marguerite told Jennifer of the telex Herr Weber had received from Berlin this afternoon, Hermann, a telex with details of Nora’s background.’

  ‘And why Marguerite then gave Jennifer a little present,’ said Kohler.

  ‘Hortense. . . ’ began Madame Chevreul.

  ‘Your cook baked this pound cake, madame,’ said Louis, using his best sûreté voice. ‘It was admittedly a last desperate measure, even to making certain that enough seeds would be eaten no matter from which end a first slice was taken, but again, perhaps only a stiff warning was intended since Datura stramonium does not often kill.’

  ‘Now, let’s not keep that goddess waiting any longer,’ said Kohler, ‘but have her take us back to the night of 17 July, 1920.’

  ‘Madame Chevreul, you had just gone through a brief two years of marriage,’ said St-Cyr.

  ‘And had inherited plenty, Louis.’

  ‘And didn’t want nor need to repeat the same performance, had even registered here at the Hôtel Grand under your maiden name.’

  ‘Were free of all such encumbrances,’ said Kohler.

  ‘But found yourself wanting a little fun. The theatre, as Madame Vernon has told us, the séances and a little scheme which you had probably no intention of honouring, but then, ah then, Hermann, he wanted the gris-gris he had given her back.’

  ‘He wouldn’t listen,’ said Élizabeth. ‘He said I was just like her.’

  ‘Grasping, like his wife, clinging to your family money?’ asked Hermann.

  ‘Madame Vernon hit him, I didn’t.’

  ‘Let’s ask the goddess,’ said Louis. ‘We’ll have her contact Caroline, since Jennifer was the first to tell us that girl was certain an empty champagne bottle had been used, not a full one which might well have exploded and injured his killer as well.’

  ‘Which was a curious thing for her to have said, Louis. I wonder where Caroline got such an idea?’

  Reaching down, he took just such a cork from Bamba Duclos’s little basket.

  A shrug would be best, thought Irène.

  Élizabeth knew it would have to be said, that there was no other way of avoiding things. ‘There was an empty bottle, inspectors. A Moët et Chandon with its cork still there. It was very late, nearly 0400 hours. Few were about, and yet. . . and yet Laurence wouldn’t leave me alone. I headed for the toilets, hoping to discourage him, but he followed. I ran. I passed a side table on which one of the waiters had left a tray and some glasses and that bottle. I pushed the door to that nearest room, then the one to the toilets, and was just able to go back to the first to slip in and gently close its door.’

  ‘There, what did I tell you, inspectors,’ said Irène.

  ‘Forgive me, ma chère Madame Vernon, but as God is my witness I heard that bottle break,’ said Élizabeth. ‘I knew Laurence had gone into the toilets first to look for me and then down to the wine cellar of that casino and that you had followed him. You told him what he had done to you. He laughed and told you exactement what he thought of you. The bottle was no longer on its
tray when I left that room. Brandy, cognac, and liqueurs, n’est-ce pas? Lots of those, and all that was needed was a match which you had plenty of.’

  ‘But you didn’t come forward after the fire?’ asked Louis.

  ‘I couldn’t. I was afraid I wouldn’t be believed, not with that woman who would simply have accused me, as she has.’

  ‘You loaned him money he couldn’t repay,’ began Irène. ‘He demanded the return of that. . . that thing he had given you. Everyone knew this. They had all overheard you.’

  ‘Madame Vernon,’ said Louis, ‘you will be charged with the murder of your husband and the destruction of the casino. The courts will be lenient—they always are to such. Extenuating circumstances, the loss of the villa you loved, the penury. . . ’

  ‘Garce,’ said Irène bitterly to the woman, ‘I did what you had intended.’

  Louis rang the bell.

  Nora was the last to say good-bye and when she did, she pressed her good-luck penny into Louis’s hand. ‘I think you’ll both need it more than I do. When this war is over you can return it to me. Then I’ll know for sure you both survived and won’t worry anymore.’

  Jennifer’s things had already been loaded into the car that would take them to the nearby train station. Colonel Kessler was on his way back to resume command of the camp. He’d have to deal with seeing that everything was settled properly, would no doubt be rather chagrined but glad of his reprieve and grateful that his old friend in Paris had sent them.

  ‘Keep your chin up,’ said Herr Kohler, as she hugged him dearly.

  Louis shook her by the hand, the two of them lightly embracing, the girl giving him a peck on each cheek and a ‘Merci, mes amis, for all you’ve done.’

  They would return Jennifer’s things to her flat in Paris and would inform Thérèse, her maid, of what had happened, but what would they really find when there? she wondered. A fortune’s worth of art and antiques?

  It took two days for them to reach Paris and that flat, and then another four until the postcard arrived.

  ‘Are well.’ Blank, blank. ‘Have found employment.’ Blank, blank. ‘In wholesale-retail trade.’ Blank, blank.