by Pirate Irwin
Lafarge was tempted to ask him whether he meant the monarchists, but bit his lip and resisted the urge.
“So your quid pro quo is that I take care of Monnet, is that it? This is to assuage your guilt over not acting sooner and preventing the rape of Berenice!” said Lafarge brutally.
He could see his remark had hit home as de Cambedessus’ face temporarily lost its opaque look and what passed for sadness for him flitted across his eyes. However, it was not for long as he pulled another piece of paper out of the same drawer and handed it to Lafarge.
“There’s his address. I am counting on you to take care of this animal,” he said, this time averting his gaze and turning his face towards the far wall.
Lafarge tried to steady himself. The combination of fatigue, Drieu’s visit, the realisation de Cambedessus was ‘Arthur’ and now the news about his sister plus the little matter he was being ordered to murder the perpetrator would have been too much for a couple of people, but for one person it was too much to handle.
He poured himself a large helping of Calvados, downed it in one, and picked up the piece of paper.
“If I don’t take care of ‘this animal’ as you put it so elegantly what are you going to do about it de Cambedessus?” asked Lafarge, although he pretty much knew what the response would be.
De Cambedessus smiled thinly.
“You will never see your sister again and I will also have great joy in telling Berenice that her guardian angel couldn’t summon up the courage to do the right thing on her behalf,” he said.
Lafarge laughed wearily prompting de Cambedessus to look up with surprise.
“It sounds to me as if she is already tired of you, Colonel! I wonder how she will react to the news you asked someone else to deal with her rapist … I see from the look on your face that you hadn’t thought of that.”
With that Lafarge left, leaving the door open and with the smallest of consolations that he had had the last word, but he knew that paled into insignificance in what he was being compelled to do and that made him very uneasy.
CHAPTER TEN
Monnet lived on the third floor of a nondescript apartment building in Belleville, a working class area which was close to where Lafarge lived in Père Lachaise in the north east of Paris, but apart from that the Chief Inspector was unable to ascertain much more. If there was a concierge there was no sign of them and thus while he entered the building unobserved he had no idea whether he would find Monnet was at home and what he would do if he wasn’t there.
He could hardly just loiter within the building, while if he hung around outside there was a café but it was on the opposite side of the avenue and he risked missing him. He had ascertained that Monnet was off duty after he checked in with the Quai, having relieved an exhausted Levau. However, he had left Courneuve to stew for a bit longer, placing two gendarmes guarding his flat and another plain clothes detective, who he trusted, in a car outside the apartment building.
He was gambling on de Cambedessus, or more likely one of his acolytes, paying a visit to Courneuve either to try and stiffen his resolve or to turn him into a stiff. While de Cambedessus must realise his pawn was under surveillance, the arrogance of the man suggested he felt he could get to anyone whenever he liked and Lafarge dearly hoped he would overplay his hand.
Lafarge arrived slightly out of breath at the door that according to the plan in the entrance below indicated was Monnet’s apartment, and he cursed himself for not paying more attention to his level of fitness and swearing he would reduce his smoking if nothing else. He was still in two minds as to what he was going to do regardless of de Cambedessus’ threat that he would never see his sister again. To Lafarge it meant only one thing given de Cambedessus’ ruthlessness and that was she would be murdered.
On the other hand despite his track record and his disgust at what Monnet had done, he was keen to turn over a leaf and take him in so that he could not only face justice for the rapes but also for his murdering the two little boys in 1943. It would all depend on how Monnet reacted.
Lafarge paused outside the door and took a deep breath which he regretted doing as the stairwell reeked of stale urine. “Classy place you live in, Captain Monnet, appropriate for the kind of person you are,” thought Lafarge.
He withdrew his pistol and rapped on the door with it. There was no answer and no sound of steps coming towards the door. He cursed and thought about forcing the door but dismissed that option and sighed realising he would have to wait for him to return, while also fearing Monnet might well be out adding to his list of victims.
“Waiting for me, Lafarge?”
Lafarge whirled round to see emerging out of the darkness of the passage to his left the unwelcome figure of Monnet, his porcine eyes gleaming in triumph.
“You are such a stupid man, Lafarge! You thought I would wait like an obedient little schoolboy for you to come and arrest me,” said Monnet, his tone assured and patronising.
Lafarge knew instantly he had been set up by de Cambedessus, and that could only mean the colonel had seen him leave Courneuve’s house in Fontainebleau. Otherwise why go to such lengths to have him trapped like this.
Lafarge eyed Monnet, who was dressed in uniform and holding his service revolver pointed straight at his midriff, and exhaled loudly as he also acknowledged that if he was caught here then de Cambedessus might well be taking care of Courneuve at the same time. Still there was little point in thinking about the weasel and his fate for the moment because Lafarge was completely helpless.
“Right, Lafarge, let’s go,” said Monnet, indicating with his gun for Lafarge to go down the stairs.
However, before Lafarge did so Monnet stepped forward and with a smug smile on his face retrieved the gun out of the Chief Inspector’s hand.
“Dear, oh dear, I must be losing my instinct as a policeman!” he said by way of explanation for forgetting to immediately relieve Lafarge of his gun.
He made up for his moment of vagueness by then patting down Lafarge in case he had a hidden revolver on him.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry, Monnet, you pick these things up as you go along, by watching real policemen do their job,” said Lafarge.
Monnet laughed humourlessly but with the air of someone who believed that he was totally in control and could allow his victim to have his little moment of defiance.
“So where are you taking me, or are you just lining me up for your favourite type of shot – into the back?” asked Lafarge.
Monnet did not appreciate that remark and shoved him roughly down a couple of steps.
“We are going for a little drive and take in some pleasant fresh air. You deserve that at least before you join those two little Jewish boys you seemed so fond of,” said Monnet.
“Well I don’t know how I should react to that, Monnet. Should I be grateful for the news or saddened that my end comes at the hands of a serial rapist and murderer?” said Lafarge, deciding he wasn’t going to go to his death tamely.
Monnet laughed again.
“You are something, Lafarge! You really are the leader of the lost causes and protector of the condemned – so self-righteous!” hissed Monnet as he prodded Lafarge in the back with the gun to get him to move along quicker.
“Yes, Monnet, I am a true angel. It is just as well you have seen what us angels look like as you won’t be crossing paths with them once you meet your maker. It’s going to be very hot where you are going,” said Lafarge.
“Witty too aren’t you, Lafarge! Well for your information, not that it is worth much, but I am an atheist,” said Monnet.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” said Lafarge.
Lafarge had hoped to make a run for it should they pass some of the other residents on the stairs, but the occasion did not arise and they emerged onto the avenue where Monnet pushed him towards a battered old Citroёn, threw him the keys and told him to drive.
“It would help if I knew where we were going,” said Lafarge drily.
&nb
sp; “Why, for you crusading saint I thought the Butte Chaumont would suit you. A lovely park where you can imagine yourself as being in the Garden of Gethsemane,” said Monnet laughing at his tortured analogy while Lafarge grimaced.
So he was to end his days in the park where hundreds of others had been lined up and executed back in another dark period of France’s violent history – the Communards, largely poor, had rebelled as a result of the fallout of yet another crushing defeat by the Germans, or the Prussians as they were then, in 1870.
“Ah well, if you are going to be a martyr, and the Place de la Concorde is no longer used for guillotining out-of-favour revolutionaries or people unfortunate to be born of aristocratic blood, there is probably no better place in Paris,” mused Lafarge.
They drove there in silence and with so little traffic on the streets they arrived in just under 10 minutes.
Monnet stood aside while Lafarge climbed out of the car and Lafarge gasped with delight as he saw the gates were locked, but Monnet simply forced them open and ushered him through. They made their way up the steep incline towards the top of the park.
“So why did you rape the women, Monnet? I mean I can just about fathom your zealous obedience to orders during the Occupation, but to go completely outside the law as you did after the liberation and when you could have hoped to escape retribution doesn’t make sense,” said Lafarge as he light a cigarette, cupping his hands to shut out the strong breeze.
Monnet groaned.
“I did it to avenge myself on, you bloody idiot! Do you think the two victims were just randomly picked! Your sister was a bit of luck because she happened to be at Rue Lauriston when we raided it. However, once I learnt her name, and she in her doped up state pleaded with me to let her go as her brother was a detective, I made the connection.
“Boy, did I enjoy fucking her! Every second I thought of you and the way you had humiliated me that day when we rounded up those loathsome little Jews. Yes, for me it wasn’t just a job, Lafarge. It was like I had been presented with an opportunity I had been wishing for for a long time, and it was all legal.
“Then you appeared and took the joy of the occasion away, and what was worse you slapped me around and arrested me in front of the Jews! Still, where they were going I would imagine their pathetic little moment of hope that they were being saved wore off pretty quickly,” said Monnet.
Lafarge couldn’t take any of the vile man anymore and spun round and launched himself at him, but he failed to account for Monnet being more agile than his corpulent physique made him look. The captain dodged his charge easily and planted a punch to Lafarge’s head as he fell to the ground. He pulled him up roughly and shoved him forward.
“Once bitten twice shy, Lafarge. I’m not going to take another of your punches again. So where was I? Oh yes, and after your sister’s sobs had subsided I encouraged others to come in from out on the street and have their way with her too. I think she was quite exhausted by the end. However, I did try and keep her in the party mood by giving her champagne. It probably dulled the pain.
“Then of course I would have stopped as I didn’t think I would ever see your baleful features again, but imagine my surprise when I see you entering the Quai the other day and then driving off with that beautiful lady, another of your lost causes. I thought she might be your mistress so I followed you.
“What a lovely apartment she had! Yes, I had quite a tour, she really is a very good guide you know, and around the bedroom. Well, Lafarge, she was even better acquainted of the arts of screwing than your sister. That surprised me as Bonny and his lot knew it all!
“Sadly I couldn’t find the champagne this time but there was some apparently excellent burgundy, and that may actually be much better anesthetic than the fizzy stuff! I was so disappointed it had to stop but I was also ecstatic at having defiled the two women I thought were closest to you,” added Monnet.
Lafarge could barely believe the hateful bile Monnet was spouting; he actually thought the man was not sane or had become so obsessed with his alleged ill-treatment the day of the round-up of the Jews that he had lost whatever sense of justice he had ever possessed.
Was it the war or the Occupation that provoked this total breakdown in Monnet’s moral compass? “Heaven knows,” thought Lafarge, “and I don’t even want to go there.
“I hear Bonny had venereal disease, Monnet,” said Lafarge viciously. I would have yourself checked out because syphilis drives you mad, or perhaps that wouldn’t matter in your case. But it is certainly not one to win you grace and favour from the ladies.”
Lafarge sensed Monnet tense up at that comment, and he enjoyed it although he had no idea about Bonny’s status whatsoever and he sincerely hoped that aside from all his sister’s other problems she did not have venereal disease.
The sun was beginning to set as they reached the top of a climb that ended sharply, overlooking a waterfall, which Lafarge took to be journey’s end for him. However, as Monnet told him to turn round so he could face him, the Chief Inspector had one last question for his executioner.
“So how did de Cambedessus get in touch with you?”
Monnet smiled, gloating at Lafarge.
“I got a phone call at the Quai telling me to be on my guard that Chief Inspector Lafarge was coming round to my apartment to kill me.
“I pretty much knew that you would check to see if I was on duty and then left work early so I could prepare my little welcome for you. I counted on you not bringing your partner along – why get him involved in an extra-judicial killing and not the sort of thing you want to teach them at such a young age – so I knew I would have you all to myself.
“Anyway the time for talking is over, Lafarge. I’m tired and I want to get this over with. So if you wish for a last cigarette go ahead but don’t count on being able to finish it, my patience is exhausted,” said Monnet as he pushed him nearer the precipice.
Lafarge shook his head and with shaking hands lit a cigarette.
However, as he raised his head to stare at his executioner for the last time – not the view he wished to take with him to wherever he was going – he heard two pops from behind Monnet and the captain’s head blew open splattering him with blood and brain tissue.
Lafarge, fortunately for him, stumbled not backwards but forwards falling on his face, and a few seconds later as someone’s hands reached down to pull him further away from the drop. He stared up and saw to his huge relief and surprise Levau.
****
“How the hell did you know where I was?” asked Lafarge.
“Commissaire Pinault told me to keep an eye on you and so rather than dragging my weary bones back to my apartment I stayed around and trailed after you,” said Levau.
They were now on their way to Courneuve’s apartment for despite Levau’s protestations that Lafarge needed to clean himself up, the Chief Inspector said they had no time to spare as he suspected de Cambedessus was taking care of weasel face, taking advantage of Monnet doing the same to Lafarge.
“Well you certainly took your time, Levau. I think you have seen too many movies where the hero comes up trumps at the end,” said Lafarge.
“Remind me to miss next time,” retorted Levau.
Lafarge laughed and patted him on the shoulder affectionately.
“So, Pinault, obviously doesn’t trust me entirely then,” he said.
Levau shrugged.
“Well I wouldn’t put it that way. I think what he said was he didn’t trust you to stay strictly to the script, and while you are a top class detective your unpredictability could lead you into serious trouble,” said Levau trying to put a positive spin on the instructions he’d been given.
Lafarge grunted and lit a cigarette, taking care to wind down the window as he had yet to see Levau smoke.
“Anyway, Levau, I can’t thank you enough for being there for me,” said Lafarge.
“Think nothing of it, Chief Inspector. I would expect you to do the same for me. However, what
were you doing, why was this gendarme of interest to you?” asked Levau.
Lafarge, as was his habit, gave him the potted version laying more emphasis on de Cambedessus’s involvement than the sordid crimes Monnet had been guilty of.
The late Captain Monnet lay where he had fallen; there would be time enough to report his death once they reached Courneuve’s apartment.
“Right, a thoroughly nasty individual our Captain Monnet then. I had one like him down in Marseille during the Occupation,” said Levau.
Lafarge was surprised by his revelation, mainly because he thought his partner was too young to have been in any service during the Occupation, although he didn’t say as much as he didn’t wish to offend him.
“So did you deal with him like you did Monnet?” asked Lafarge.
“No sir, let’s just say when I pulled the trigger back there, one bullet was for Monnet and one for my former superior,” said Levau.
“So he’s still in the force?”
Levau shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know to be honest as I demanded a transfer to Paris earlier this year. Aside from the fact I thought it would be liberated sooner than Marseille I just wanted to be free of him,” said Levau, his voice beginning to quiver.
Levau didn’t add anything and Lafarge decided to let it lie, there would be time enough later to discuss whatever had troubled him in Marseille. In any case they were nearing the apartment building and found a parking space conveniently enough outside the café.
Lafarge waved a greeting at the café owner, who seeing his face all bloody looked at him with some consternation and tried to get him to come inside to which Lafarge politely declined, making a face and pointing down the street.