The Châtelet Apprentice

by Jean-FranCois Parot

  ‘Nothing could be simpler, indeed. Why is Louise Lardin a suspect in her cousin’s murder? Let us think it through with her. I am convinced that the plot at the Dauphin Couronné was prepared and hatched by Lardin with his wife’s full agreement. But the commissioner was unaware of something that Louise Lardin had discovered by chance. I deserve no credit for finding it out because all I needed to do was put some pressure on Master Duport who was, I should emphasise, both Lardin’s and Descart’s notary. He told me that he had informed Madame Lardin – though he immediately regretted doing so, given her reaction – that her cousin Descart had just drawn up a will that left his estate to Mademoiselle Marie Lardin. I do not believe that this piece of information was passed on to the commissioner. On the other hand it gradually took over Louise Lardin’s mind and gave rise to a diabolical idea: getting rid at a stroke of a husband she despised and a cousin she loathed. She would help the commissioner make his disappearance plausible in order to murder him more easily. At the same time she would implicate Semacgus in a killing of which he was innocent. Descart had to be disposed of because ultimately there was nothing to guarantee that he would be accused of the commissioner’s murder. There were too many unknown factors. Lastly, in an ever more vicious attempt to confuse matters, Louise Lardin had worn her stepdaughter’s shoes when she went to Vaugirard. As she has bigger feet she walked awkwardly, a fact noted by a police spy who saw her leave Descart’s house after she had ransacked it to find …’

  Monsieur de Sartine began to cough. Nicolas stopped himself in time.

  ‘To find … the will. What was the point, you may ask, of going to so much trouble? She needed to have some escape routes. Should the situation become dangerous for her, the accusation could be turned on Marie Lardin, the new heiress. Once Descart had been eliminated Commissioner Lardin’s daughter had to be got rid of at all costs. That was why she was drugged and then abducted and taken to the Dauphin Couronné, destined for a vile trade that would dishonour her and ensure that she was never heard of again. At that point Louise Lardin, the grieving widow and distraught stepmother, would reap the rewards of her crime, entering into Descart’s inheritance and disappearing with her favourite lover, the blackguard Mauval.’

  Louise Lardin rose to her feet. Concerned about her intentions, Bourdeau approached her.

  ‘I protest!’ she exclaimed. ‘I protest against the abominable accusations of this Le Floch fellow. I am innocent of the crime. I had the misfortune to have lovers. That much I admit. But I killed neither my husband nor my cousin. I have already told Monsieur Le Floch that the commissioner was killed by Dr Semacgus during a struggle after my husband had found us together on the morning of Saturday 3 February. My only mistake was to give in to his pleas to conceal the body Monsieur Le Floch found in the cellars of my house.’

  ‘It is quite natural for the accused to protest their innocence,’ Nicolas continued unperturbed. ‘But I hadn’t finished my demonstration and we need to go back over the details of the commissioner’s death. It so happens that Louise Lardin displayed, one after the other, two contradictory attitudes to her husband’s disappearance. First she played the role of the loving and worried wife, then, in the second stage she showed the cynicism of a courtesan now free to boast of her debauchery and to admit her estrangement from a husband she despised. The second attitude was a response to suspicions that had arisen as a result of the investigation. She had to face up to them. In doing so she deflected these same suspicions, which then became difficult to sustain against a woman capable of such frankness. We find once again this evil intelligence at work, this making use of the facts to render them meaningless. So what did Commissioner Lardin really die of? Monsieur de Sartine, with your permission I would like to question the man best placed to enlighten us.’

  He pointed towards Sanson. Monsieur de Sartine signalled his agreement and the executioner appeared in the flickering torchlight. Of those present, only Semacgus and Bourdeau knew what lay beneath the exterior of this very ordinary-looking man, whom Nicolas avoided calling by name.

  ‘Monsieur,’ he asked, ‘what did Commissioner Lardin die of?’

  ‘Carrying out a post-mortem on his body provided clear proof that he died of arsenic poisoning,’ stated Sanson. ‘Dead rats found near the body had perished in the same way after feeding on him. The details of the post-mortem …’

  ‘Spare us the details,’ said Sartine.

  ‘Might the substance employed,’ Nicolas continued, ‘be the same as that used for Descart’s murder?’

  ‘Exactly the same.’

  ‘In your opinion, for how long had Commissioner Lardin been dead?’

  ‘Given the state of the body and the place where it lay, it’s difficult to give an answer. However, I think the body had been there for more than a week.’

  ‘Thank you, Monsieur.’

  Sanson bowed and went back into the shadows. Nicolas turned towards the Lardins’ cook.

  ‘Catherine, were there rats in Rue des Blancs-Manteaux?’

  ‘You know very well there were, Monsieur Nicolas. A real plague. I never stopped trying to get rid of them.’

  ‘With what means?’

  ‘I had a jar of arsenic.’

  ‘Where was it?’

  ‘In the pantry.’

  ‘It is not there any more. It would be a very odd sort of struggle between a deceived husband and his wife’s lover that ends in poison being swallowed. What Madame Lardin has told us is not credible. Her husband was poisoned as a result of a carefully hatched plot, for plot it was from the very beginning, as I shall now prove.’

  Monsieur de Sartine had gone back to his armchair and, cupping his chin, was staring admiringly at the young man fired up by his demonstration.

  ‘There was a plot, as I say,’ Nicolas continued, raising his voice. ‘I assert that Mauval, Louise Lardin’s lover, was given the task of recruiting the two blackguards who were to slit Saint-Louis’s throat. He arranged a meeting between them and those behind this plot on the building site of Place Louis XV. There they were to meet three people wearing masks and black satin capes. Carnival provides useful opportunities … Master Vachon, your tailor, Lieutenant General, but also Lardin’s, made four black capes for him to order. But let us do our sums. At the Dauphin Couronné Semacgus was, on an evening such as this during Carnival, already wearing a mask. Lardin, also in a mask and cape, makes one. Descart wore a mask and cape – the one La Paulet sent him, along with the invitation – and that makes two. What about the other two? One for Mauval makes three. And the other for Louise Lardin, four.’

  Louise Lardin got up, foaming at the mouth, and started yelling.

  ‘You’re lying, you bastard. Prove it.’

  ‘A strange request from someone who’s supposed to be innocent, but there’s no point in shouting. I shall prove it. Let us examine the sequence of events that evening. At around ten o’clock Rapace and Bricart were waiting at Place Louis XV with a cart and two barrels. Soon after that three masked strangers joined them. Instructions were given and an advance on the reward was paid. They were driven to Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Honoré, near the Dauphin Couronné. A carriage arrived shortly before midnight. Semacgus went into the brothel. This is when his coachman, Saint-Louis, was lured into a trap and stabbed. The two accomplices cut up the body beside the river and put the pieces into the two barrels. When questioned the two criminals tried to claim that it was Lardin who had just been killed. However, at midnight Semacgus, Lardin and Descart were together. We now know when Lardin was killed and, in addition, the exact time at which Saint-Louis died. His watch, which was broken in the struggle, was found in Rapace’s pocket. It had stopped at four minutes past midnight. Between a quarter past midnight and one o’clock in the morning Descart, Lardin and finally Semacgus left the Dauphin Couronné. Lardin was the first to arrive back at Rue des Blancs-Manteaux. He was the second victim of the plot after Saint-Louis. He was poisoned by his wife and Mauval, who had hurriedly returned from P
lace Louis XV. His body was put in a secret underground passage where it would be eaten by rats and quickly become unrecognisable. A few days later some game was hung in the cellar to cover up the suspicious smell. Everything was then done to make life impossible for the cook, Catherine Gauss, who might have suspected something. Marie Lardin would be abducted and I myself, the lodger, would naturally be thrown out of the house. Yes, there was a plot and I maintain and uphold my accusations against Louise Lardin.’

  Louise looked him up and down contemptuously. Then she turned towards Sartine.

  ‘I appeal to you, Monsieur. None of this is true. Let me be shown the proof as promised.’

  ‘So be it, Madame. You want the proof, but I’ve got something much better than that – a witness. You remember the meeting arranged at the building site of Place Louis XV and those two men with whom you negotiated the gruesome murder of an innocent man. Remember the storm that was brewing that evening, with westerly gusts heralding that snow would come in the night. You cannot have forgotten that one of those gusts undid your hair and almost tore off the mask covering your face, revealing enough at least for one of the men in question to remember your features. In some situations details imprint themselves on the memories of even the least observant people.

  Louise Lardin was wringing her hands and shrieking:

  ‘It’s not true.’

  ‘You know very well Madame, that, unfortunately for you, I am not lying.’

  Nicolas turned towards Bourdeau.

  ‘Inspector, please bring in the accused.’

  Bourdeau opened the door, raised his hand and gave a signal. Then the heavy silence hanging over the assembled company was broken by the ringing echo of faltering, unbalanced footsteps resounding on the flagging of the ancient building. The noise became louder and merged with the pounding of the hearts of those present. Suddenly Louise Lardin got up, pushed Nicolas aside and, grabbing the silver stiletto Monsieur de Sartine had been toying with some time earlier, stabbed herself in the heart with a loud cry and collapsed. In the doorway stood old Marie, aghast and with a cane in his hand.

  Nicolas broke the appalled silence that followed this scene.

  ‘She knew that Bricart had seen her face that evening. She also knew about the old soldier’s disability and the sound of his wooden leg. She was sure that he was going to recognise her.’

  ‘It is appropriate that a case as grim as this, based entirely on falsehood and deception, should end so dramatically,’ exclaimed Monsieur de Sartine.

  With the help of old Marie, Bourdeau quickly ushered out those present and, after Sanson and Semacgus had confirmed she was dead, sent for assistance and a stretcher to remove Louise Lardin’s body. It would join the other corpses that lay in the Basse-Geôle, including those of two of her victims and of Mauval, her lover.

  *

  Nicolas and the Lieutenant General of Police stayed behind alone. There was a long silence between the two men until in the end Nicolas said:

  ‘I think La Paulet should be released, Monsieur. She could be useful and she’s played fair by us. She is, as we know, rather a good backup for the police. As for the rest …’

  Monsieur de Sartine was by now on his feet. He went up to Nicolas and put a hand on his shoulder. Nicolas stifled a cry: it was the shoulder that had been wounded by Mauval’s sword.

  ‘My compliments, Nicolas. You have unravelled this plot with a shrewdness that justifies the opinion I have had of you from the beginning. I leave it to you to judge who should be prosecuted or pardoned. With regard to La Paulet, you’re right. The policing of a great city can only be carried out by making use of the weakest or the most influential members of society. We must not think ourselves above this. But I have one question for you: who gave you the idea of the deus ex machina in the last act? Even I turned towards the door to look.’

  ‘The idea was inspired by a comment of Monsieur de Noblecourt’s,’ Nicolas replied. ‘His advice to me was “just pretend”. A woman like Louise Lardin would never have confessed, perhaps not even under torture. I needed to find a way of catching her out when her defences were down.’

  ‘That reassures me about my capacity to judge people,’ Sartine continued with a smile. ‘In the end it’s thanks to me, who entrusted you to Monsieur de Noblecourt, that all this has been resolved. What is more, with our old friend the only dead you’ll find in his cellar are the bottles he likes to get through in the company of his friends.’

  Pleased with his quip, he allowed himself a quick comb of his wig, opened his snuffbox and offered Nicolas a pinch. The young man accepted and helped himself. This interlude was followed by a sneezing session that left them feeling relaxed and very pleased with themselves.

  ‘So now,’ Sartine continued eventually, ‘not only do you decide who I give audiences to but you also try to deprive me of my supper. I hope the reasons you’re going to put forward will justify this impertinence and will not leave me, so to speak, hungry for more explanation. Mind you, to have one particular matter cleared up I would gladly fast for a whole week. Nicolas, do you have the King’s papers?’

  ‘You will have them, Monsieur, if you agree to follow me. It will take us two hours. You will still have time to join your dinner party. There’s bound to be something left to eat and drink.’

  ‘That’s adding insult to injury!’ Sartine exclaimed. ‘But what can I do? I must submit to his every whim. Come on, let’s go.’

  Nicolas paused for a moment.

  ‘Lieutenant General, I have one request to make of you, to right a wrong.’

  ‘As things stand now, my dear Nicolas, if the request is reasonable you may assume I will agree to it, and if it is impossible I will agree to it anyway.’

  The young man hesitated once more before saying:

  ‘I would like Bourdeau, who conducted this investigation alongside me and whose help has been incalculable, to be involved in its ultimate conclusion. I would understand your reluctance, but I’m sure that we can trust him.’

  Monsieur de Sartine began to pace up and down his office, then instinctively started to poke the fire even though it had gone out long before.

  ‘I’m a man of my word,’ he said eventually, ‘but you are putting me in a very difficult position. You are a formidable opponent, Nicolas. It must be the contact with criminals that has made you so tough. However, I understand and share your feeling about Bourdeau. No one is more devoted to you than he is and, if I am to believe the reports, he saved your life. He has shared the suffering, so it is only right that he should share the glory. Who said that?’

  ‘Joan of Arc at the coronation of Charles VII in Rheims, Monsieur, about her standard.’

  ‘Nicolas, you never cease to amaze me. You really are a worthy pupil of our Jesuit brethren. You deserve to move in higher circles …’

  They left the room. In the main hall they found Semacgus and Bourdeau. After bowing low to the Lieutenant General, the doctor held out his hand to Nicolas.

  ‘I wanted to express my gratitude to you, Nicolas. You didn’t spare me, but you’ve saved my life because without Louise’s confession I was done for. I shall never forget the lesson. Treat my house at the Croix-Nivert as your own. Catherine considers you a son. I am keeping her; she’s big-hearted, and Marie Lardin has decided to go to Orléans to live with her godmother.’

  Monsieur de Sartine was becoming impatient. Nicolas beckoned to Bourdeau.

  ‘Will the inspector do us the honour of accompanying us for the epilogue to this case?’ Nicolas asked.

  ‘Upon my word,’ said Bourdeau, his face suddenly beaming, ‘I would have bet a hundred bottles of Chinon that there was something more to all this!’

  *

  The Lieutenant General led them towards his carriage. Nicolas ordered the coachman to go to Vaugirard. During the journey he hardly had time to assess the scale of his triumph. Under Sartine’s wary eye, he outlined to Bourdeau the affair of State linked to the criminal case that had just been resolv
ed. Then each of them withdrew into silence. Nicolas was prey once more to doubt, his eternal enemy. Although he was sure of himself and of his deductions, and convinced he was nearing his goal, he dared not imagine the consequences of failure in these circumstances.

  The Lieutenant General toyed with the lid of his snuffbox, snapping the clasp shut at regular intervals. The coach-and-four hurtled through dark and deserted streets. Soon they were in Vaugirard. Nicolas gave the coachman directions to Dr Descart’s house. The place still looked just as grim. They had scarcely stepped out of the carriage when Bourdeau began to whistle a strange tune. In the shadows, on the other side of the road, exactly the same tune could be heard in reply. A spy was there, keeping watch on the house. The inspector went off to speak to him and came back saying that everything was in order and that no one had attempted to get in.

  After breaking the seals Nicolas opened the door. He struck a light from a tinder-box and picked up a piece of candle that lay on the floor. He lit it and handed it to Bourdeau, asking him to do the same with the candelabra to illuminate the main room. Sartine looked in horror at the appalling mess in the house. Nicolas cleared the top of Descart’s desk with a sweep of his arm and laid out three pieces of paper. He then fetched an armchair and a chair and invited his companions to sit down. An inscrutable-looking Monsieur de Sartine complied without comment.

  ‘Monsieur,’ Nicolas began, ‘when you did me the honour of letting me into a State secret that I had begun to suspect as the criminal investigation proceeded, I set myself the task of doing all I could to solve this matter too. I had little to go on at first. You told me that Commissioner Lardin had been required in the course of his duties to go through the papers of a plenipotentiary who had just died, and had stolen several very important documents to do with the interests of the Crown, thus threatening the security of the State. Once in possession of these papers Lardin was in a position both to ensure his own impunity and to set up an odious blackmail scheme. However, due to the extent of his gambling debts, he was himself at the mercy of Mauval, the agent and henchman of Camusot, head of the Gaming Division, who is corrupt but beyond the reach of the law.