by Pirate Irwin
“However, there is also a time when people have to stand up and do their bit to hurt those who by their very actions and behaviour are staining the reputation of one’s own country.
“I couldn’t really give a damn about the Nazis, it is for their own people to reflect on what they allowed to happen. But I am buggered if I am going to sit idly by and be a bystander to the crimes that Bousquet and Laval are committing in our name. I was no great admirer of the Third Republic but Jesus, it at least observed basic human rights and laws.
“Thus yes, I will help you on both counts. Pierre–Yves is like me, better at fighting with his mouth than his hands, so it shouldn’t be too hard to persuade him to come back here and place him in your custody. Obviously it may take time as I have little contact with the people he has gone into hiding with, and it may also take some convincing him to believe in your plan.
“However, bide your time and I will get him here. I will also put into place the necessary arrangements with the people I can still trust in Paris. Again, it won’t be easy and it could be expensive, but I am prepared to cover the costs.
“All I will say to you is that should things go badly awry, the only involvement I would wish imposed on me afterwards is you hiring me as your lawyer! I think you understand me clearly on that,” said Gerland in a clipped but friendly tone.
Lafarge felt like embracing Gerland and kissing him on both cheeks, so elated was he that his gamble in placing his faith in the lawyer had been well worth it.
Instead, he slapped him on the back hard enough that Gerland’s head hit the wooden part of the window frame, but instead of reproaching him he laughed and said: “I prefer to enter the garden by the door Gaston, no matter how eager I am to get out there!”
*
Gerland, as he had promised, dropped Lafarge off at the police headquarters after they had drunk a couple of cognacs to finish off the afternoon in pleasurable style. Gerland squeezed his arm warmly when he made to get out, a gesture of friendship as well as a warning to be careful, and Lafarge nodded.
There was pandemonium when he entered the building. What’s new pussycat he thought to himself, with a new group of tired and harassed looking people aligning the benches whilst they waited their turn to descend into de Blaeckere’s receptacle of Hell.
There was nothing that Lafarge could do about them. He’d fought his battle and now his mind was totally focused on his plan, although he would still have to go through the motions of searching for his prey, but at least it would be in the firm knowledge that he would get his man whatever happened.
He was greeted by Broglie, who was putting on his jacket as he entered their office, who asked him how the day had gone, to which Lafarge said it had been very productive without obviously going into details, save to say they had enjoyed some excellent wine.
Broglie said on that note he was going off for the night and would he like to join him for a drink at the brasserie. Lafarge thanked him and said he would think about it but he had some matters he needed to tie up before he clocked off. Broglie smiled and then stopped at the doorway smacking his head as if he was a dolt.
“I’m sorry, Gaston, but a lady called for you. I told her you were out on a work related matter and didn’t know when you would be returning, so she gave me her number which I jotted down and left on your desk.
“She wouldn’t leave her name but said that you would remember her from the stage,” said Broglie shrugging his shoulders in wonderment at the games that people played.
Lafarge laughed and also felt a surge of excitement run through his body, and as soon as his colleague had left, he looked down at the note and dialed the number.
Lafarge was delighted when it was Aimée who answered, explaining that while it was not her house or place to do so, both her brother and his wife had gone out.
Lafarge kept the conversation to the minimum solely asking her if he came to collect her would she be willing to have dinner with him that evening.
It didn’t take much convincing, although she insisted she would dine with him without having to force him to come and pick her up, as she could easily find her way into town, being more au fait with the area than the Parisian policeman.
Lafarge said he would meet her at his hotel at 8 and having replaced the handle of the phone, he let out a whoop of joy. As much as reality tried to bite he cast it aside, declaring that for one night only he could suspend his marital status, for should his plan unravel he would not have too many more occasions to enjoy the pleasures of the opposite sex.
However, as if to salve his conscience ahead of the dinner Lafarge decided to call Isabella, as it had also been a while since they spoke and if she had tried him at the apartment, she might have started to worry as to where he was.
Getting a connection was never easy but that evening it was not a problem, his perfect day, as he was coming to describe it, continuing in seamless fashion.
“Hello,” came a young male voice after it had rung for several rings.
“Ah Philippe, it’s your father. How are you?” asked Lafarge rather awkwardly.
“I’m fine dad. Do you want to speak to Mama?” came the reply from his son.
“Yes, that would be great, thank you Philippe. I will try and come and see you as soon as I can, I miss you,” said Lafarge sadly, regretting making a promise that he knew would be hard to keep.
“They both miss you,” said Isabella once she had come to the phone.
“And you, Isabella, do you miss me?” asked Lafarge, eager but equally afraid to hear the response.
“Sometimes,” she replied brusquely.
“Oh well, I will take what I can get. Anyway how are you and the children, not suffering I hope from the privations we have in the north?” asked Lafarge with a suitable air of concern in his voice.
“Everything is fine Gaston. We don’t really lack for anything, your father helps us to obtain things that are difficult to get, he has been really kind, more present than you have been,” she said coldly.
Lafarge recoiled at this barb, thanking his father in one respect but cursing him for making him look like an uncaring soul.
“What, he has visited you, or he has made arrangements for you?” asked Lafarge.
“Yes, he’s been here to see his grandchildren on three or four occasions, sometimes with your mother, sometimes on his own.
“He says it gives him pleasure to have an excuse to leave Vichy and he can relax here. You should try it, it might be good for you.
“You know, blue skies, warmish water, laughter and there is still some crime so you wouldn’t be totally lost and unemployed,” she said laughing, though Lafarge could tell it was rather hollow and inside the joke, there was a message to him.
“Point taken Isabella, but you know that is what I wish to do. It’s just at the moment I am involved in a very delicate and troublesome case and should I solve it, I will then ask for a transfer down to you and the children,” he said with as much sincerity and confidence as he could summon up.
There was a silence at the other end of the phone and Lafarge wasn’t going to invade it.
“I know Gaston, your father told me something about it. Not in much detail, but he did say that you would have to tread very carefully and that he feared for you because you were not good at playing political games. I told him I was painfully aware of that,” she said her tone changing abruptly to a tender one.
“He’s right on all counts. However, I believe that I am nearing the end of it now. I’m in Limoges and have made significant progress and I also believe that I can emerge from this unscathed,” he said reassuringly.
“Limoges? What a place to be at the best of times!” she said.
“Oh, it’s not that bad. There are some old acquaintances here, the food is good and so is the wine, and as you well know, the china is excellent! I will try and get you some,” said Lafarge trying to cheer her up with the promise of the town's most famous product.
“And the women Gaston, how ar
e they in Limoges, any old as you put it acquaintances?” asked Isabella half in jest.
“No, Isabella none of them are female,” said Lafarge, content that at least there he was being truthful.
“Good, I am glad to hear that. And before you ask, no I have not come across any old flames. I am being saintly and pure, and just going out occasionally with the children and on a couple of occasions with your father,” she said.
Lafarge was relieved to hear her say that and also reassured that her coldness since leaving had nothing to do with finding a new male companion, indeed he chided himself for having arranged his dinner date now.
He had always thought a beautiful woman like Isabella, without her husband, down in the hotter climes of Nice would be like a magnet for any aspiring Lothario.
“So please come as soon as you can, Gaston, for I cannot remain a nun for the rest of my life, my South American blood wouldn’t allow for that in any case. Guinevere wants her King Arthur back, this time alive not dead,” she said sternly.
“Yes my Queen, I will obey you,” replied Lafarge drily.
Lafarge felt a sudden urge to ask Isabella to come up and see him in Limoges, but then stopped short of doing so and as it turned out it was just as well he did.
“Gaston, I love you very much, you know that, but I want a new life for us after this case. I am not sure that Paris is where I wish to live and bring the children up in, and I certainly don’t want to carry on being the wife of a detective,” she said firmly.
Lafarge was a bit taken aback by Isabella bringing up the topic, and didn’t think it very wise to discuss on an open telephone line, so he bit his tongue and replied blandly.
“Ok Isabella let’s just see how things turn out, shall we? And we can discuss the future after that,” he said.
He heard her sigh deeply down the other end of the line, sensing she wasn’t keen to delay the discussion. However, she was intelligent enough to realize there was a reason for his reticence and accepted she had been a little too blunt in what she had just said. However, not even the most zealous of Vichy officials could translate what she said into being critical of the government, he hoped so anyway.
“Alright Gaston, we shall leave it for now. I have to go and bathe the children anyway, and you I am sure have things to be working on, and the quicker you do so the better for all of us. Please, though, be careful my sweet, obstinate bull–headed principled husband,” she said warmly.
Lafarge felt a lump rise in his throat, but pushed away the sense of sadness and loneliness, and pulled himself together.
“I love you too dearest Isabella, and no matter what happens that will remain the case, my love for you and the children and for our lives together now and in the future are paramount in my mind.
“Goodbye Isabella and kiss the children for me, after you have dried them down, for I know how nervous you get about having your clothes soaked when you are giving them their baths!” he said gently before placing the handle back on the receiver.
*
A couple of drinks later, his spirits had recovered sufficiently for him to approach dinner with renewed enthusiasm, and his heart skipped a beat when Aimée arrived in the small lobby of the hotel.
She had her long blonde hair pinned at the back of her head and was wearing a small but very chic black hat which covered just the top of her hairline, while she was wearing a long flowing black dress, with transparent sleeves, and a low neckline which accentuated her largish breasts.
Without much further ado apart from a gentle bow and lowering his face to her hand without touching it with his lips, he escorted her to the restaurant which was on the opposite side of the street to the hotel.
It was a small traditional style country restaurant, nothing fancy about the decoration or the cutlery, but the food, he had been informed by Broglie, was excellent and it was intimate enough not to be heard at the next table.
“I’m sorry the setting isn’t up to the standard of your dress,” Lafarge said apologetically.
She batted away his apology with a regal sweep of her right hand and smiled sweetly, before casting her eyes down to the menu. That prompted him to bashfully also eye the menu, which meant him leaning forward into the candlelight, as there was only one between the two of them, the restaurant being full which meant about 30 odd people, fortunately none of them known to Lafarge.
The owner, a well–built man of around 50 with a fabulous handlebar moustache, came over and took their order. Aimée ordered duck liver pâté and lamb with green beans while Lafarge, having had his fill of duck for the day, opted for goats cheese salad followed by calves brains, to which Aimée wrinkled her nose in mock disgust.
Lafarge shrugged his shoulders and laughed and that was how the evening panned out for the most part. Lots of laughter and stories, mostly from her, with tales of the stage and the stars and how Marais and Cocteau would lock the former’s dressing room door before the curtain went up on opening night and the star would emerge looking flushed but in the best of spirits for his performance.
“Wow, I saw them only the other night, but it was too dark to see if Marais was flushed or not,” said Lafarge laughing.
“Oh really, where?” asked Aimee with an air of curiosity, leaning forward so her breasts rested on top of the table.
“Careful, you’ll get crumbs in there,” said Lafarge jokingly.
She smiled and retreated a little before brushing the crumbs from the table and pushing herself forward towards him again.
“Coast is clear, I’m all ears Gaston!” she said soothingly, while running her fingers round her wine glass which was all but empty as was the bottle.
Lafarge ordered another bottle as well as the bill, time was moving on and as ever in the provinces and even more so after the Armistice, 10 at night was considered late for them and it was now 9.30
“I saw them at Suzy Solidor’s place on the Rue Sainte Anne. I’d never been there before, it was quite a place, full of the great and the not so great and also the worst types as well,” he said.
“Yes, I like it a lot. I go there as a customer now, but before I did an act there. Still Suzy was very kind to give me a break, or at least give me the chance to earn some money, but in the end I was just pleased to move on,” she said.
“Yes she is certainly a character, a livewire. However, I’m not sure I like her rendition of Lili Marleen, the original is great but I don’t really think it necessary to have a French version. Besides, it’s not as if we have soldiers sitting on the frontlines needing morale boosts, we’re either in camps or at work in Germany,” said Lafarge bitterly.
She smiled at him and held out her hand and stroked his, to which he didn’t pull back and allowed her to continue, for it was nice to have the physical touch of a woman after such a long time. His earlier loving thoughts about Isabella seemingly banished.
“Were you a prisoner of war?” she asked gently, still stroking his hand.
Lafarge nodded, but didn’t want to expand upon the experience, which apart leaving him feeling humiliated had also been very tedious.
“So you find the theatre more to your taste then. Certainly it is a step up the ladder in terms of prestige even if you are not in the limelight yet,” said Lafarge.
“Yes, it certainly gets me more invitations to better parties,” she said smiling.
“And the prospects of meeting a better type of guy,” quipped Lafarge.
He regretted saying it almost immediately as even in the relative darkness of the restaurant he could see the colour rise in her face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it in that way. I wasn’t suggesting you had chosen this career so as to gain social standing or for that matter a husband,” said Lafarge apologetically.
She smiled but it was a sad one.
“I can tell you Gaston that not all actresses are like Marguerite Suchet, Arletty or Mireille Balin and seeking an intimate alliance with the enemy. They killed my fiancé so I am not really too k
een to pursue any sort of relationship with them,” she said wiping a tear away.
Lafarge kicked himself under the table for his crass remark. Maybe he was becoming a bit overcome with the case, imagining that Marguerite was no different to any of her rivals, that they were all seeking a German protector. He was obviously profoundly wrong and had caused great upset.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again, desperately seeking to put the evening back on its former relaxed and intimate tone. Trouble was, he couldn’t think of what on earth could achieve that goal, so he let the silence drag on and waited for her to break it.
“What about you Gaston, are you married, or are you hiding away using your work as an excuse to avoid such a commitment?” she asked with a glint in her eye.
Lafarge would have said no half an hour ago, but now the manner in which the evening had turned he thought it best to be truthful rather than play her and end up feeling even worse than he had done when he made his flippant but offensive remark.
“Yes, I am married, actually got two young children, but they felt it best or rather my wife did to leave Paris and go to the south.
“It has its advantages because I know they are safe, but on the other hand, it makes life rather lonely. So I guess the second part of your question or suggestion is also correct, I use up all my time or the majority of it on the job,” he said glumly.
“Hence the reason you are regarded with such respect. A man of integrity and probity both in his personal and professional lives, and that you cannot say for many people these days,” she said warmly.
Lafarge could feel himself blushing, although, he wasn’t so sure on reflecting on the remark whether she had been slightly disingenuous.
“That’s very kind of you, or whoever you heard say that. I can’t attest to being totally convinced that I am like that in my personal life, but maybe it’s not for me to judge,” he said.
“So, are you enjoying yourself in your temporary absence from the stage, are you taking to farming, milking cows and cleaning out stables?” Lafarge asked changing the subject he thought rather adroitly.
She laughed heartily at that, her eyes regaining the sparkle that had disappeared just minutes ago.