Barbara Cleverly - Strange Images of Death

Nathan agreed. ‘What’ll you do now, Joe? What can you do?’

Joe grimaced. ‘Hands tied, I’m afraid! At home I’d ring for a squad, establish a scene of crime set-up, arrange interviews … As it is, we’ll just have to wait for the French spearhead to arrive, all unwitting.’

Joe made his way into the kitchen through the side door, not knowing what he should expect, certain only that it would be an unpleasant scene.

To his surprise, all was calm and orderly. All kitchen activity had been suspended and the staff were standing around, an attentive chorus backing up the main players. Dorcas was close by, he was relieved to note. Centrally placed on a chair that had been brought in from the dining room, Madame Dalbert sat holding her little son on her lap. Marius was no longer yelling. He was sitting, pink and vastly recovered from his ordeal, staring with fascination at the steward who had arrived to take charge.

De Pacy was on his knees in front of Marius. Joe almost looked for a gift of frankincense, myrrh or gold in his hand but he was holding out for the child’s inspection a Limoges china bowl with a silver spoon standing up in it. The cherub was showing an interest in the contents. A kitchen boy thoughtfully came to take the bowl from de Pacy and held it steadily, allowing the steward to dig in with his good hand and tentatively offer up a spoonful of strawberry ice-cream. Marius’s eyes flicked in astonishment from the anxious face of the commanding officer on a level with his own and back to the silver spoon. Joe tensed. Would the child put back his head and howl or accept the offering? Marius made the right decision. He opened up his mouth like a baby cuckoo.

Joe approached quietly and watched the scene until the bowl was empty. De Pacy got up, grunted and tousled the boy’s hair. ‘Brave lad!’ he murmured. ‘He’s a soldier like his father, Madame Dalbert.’ He turned to Joe and spoke in English. ‘I’m a bit lost. But I think you may be able to make some sense out of all this. All I can gather-and that mainly from Dorcas who came to fetch me-is that the poor lad spent the night trapped in the chapel and that you let him out just now. He’s terrified. He hasn’t told us anything. Doesn’t seem to be able to speak-although I know he can! He has a fine way with words for one so young and swears like a trooper. He refuses to talk to me . Perhaps you could-’

‘Why don’t you both move away and let me speak to him?’ said Dorcas. ‘You’re both big frightening men-he’s been told to keep out of your way. He won’t talk to you.’

They went to stand behind Madame Dalbert while Dorcas approached him and took hold of his hand. ‘Awfully glad you’re back, Marius! We missed you.’ She spoke reassuringly in what Joe thought of as her ‘Provençal voice’. ‘We thought you’d gone to Granny’s but we searched all over the place just in case. Never thought of looking in the chapel. However did you manage to get in?’

‘It was all right. I was let in by a grown-up,’ muttered Marius.

‘Thought so. Which grown-up was that?’

‘Estelle. She found me running to the gateway and stopped me. Said I shouldn’t go down by myself, I’d be missed.’

‘Well, she was certainly right. You were missed. And then what did you do?’

‘She was a bit cross. I think I was in the way. She said she was meeting someone … And I’d better just come along with her and keep quiet and she’d take me back to the hall for supper when she’d finished.’

‘Was she carrying anything?’ asked Dorcas, remembering the conversation in the dormitory.

‘Yes. A brown case. A small one.’

‘And then what did you do?’

‘She opened the door and let me inside. She came in too. She looked at her watch. She told me she’d found the best ever hiding place and I could try it out. She put me in a sort of cupboard with a seat in it and a curtain hanging down.’

‘Sounds like a good hidey-hole …’

‘It worked! He never saw me!’

‘He? Who was that, Marius?’

‘The man.’

‘A man came in?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which man?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘How did you know it was a man?’

Marius frowned. ‘Trousers. Black trousers. And shoes.’

‘Did this person know Estelle?’

‘Yes. Estelle was laughing.’

‘Who was the other person, Marius? Did you recognize the voice?’

Marius thought hard. ‘No. They were whispering. And, anyway, I didn’t know what they were saying.’

‘You mean they were talking English-as I do sometimes?’

‘That’s it.’

‘How long were they in there … oh, you won’t be able to say in minutes, I know that, but did it seem a short time, a medium time or a very boring long time?’

‘I counted to a hundred,’ said Marius proudly and, turning to the audience behind, added, ‘I can count to a hundred! And I started again and got to twenty.’

Joe felt gooseflesh prick his arms as he listened to the innocent boast. The child owed his life to numbers. If he hadn’t been able to count beyond ten or if he’d called out, ‘… ninety-nine, a hundred’ and jumped out, he wouldn’t have survived to be comforted with ice-cream.

‘That was brilliant, Marius!’ Dorcas gave him credit for his skill. ‘So, after a hundred and twenty, Estelle and her friend went out and left you there by yourself. They’d forgotten you were there, you kept so still and quiet?’

‘No! No! The man went out. Estelle stayed with me. She didn’t leave me.’ The boy seemed concerned that Estelle should bear no blame.

‘She stayed in the chapel with you?’ Dorcas made an effort to rein in her astonishment.

‘Yes. All night. She’d put on her nightie and gone to bed. On the big stone bed. She didn’t say goodnight. I think she’d forgotten me.’

Puzzled, Dorcas glanced up at Joe. He nodded slowly, indicating that she should plough on.

‘So Estelle was there with you all night?’

‘Yes. I was glad she was there even though she was asleep. I wasn’t so frightened. I went and touched her hand and tried to wake her up but she wouldn’t. When it started to get dark I made a bed for myself by the door and went to sleep. But the noise woke me up. The wind. I started banging on the door with my clog. I really wanted someone to come and let me out. I was crying,’ he admitted. ‘I had a wee and drank some water from a jug …’ He pulled a face at the memory. ‘And then I went back to sleep again. Until the morning. Then I banged again and someone came.’

He squirmed around and whispered to his mother, ‘Am I in trouble, Maman?’ with the certainty of one who knows he is definitely in the clear.

‘I’m trying to persuade Madame Dalbert to take her sons home and have the rest of the day off,’ said de Pacy.

‘I think we should ask Marius what he’d like to do,’ Joe suggested.

‘Oh, he wants to stay here,’ said Madame Dalbert. ‘He’s just longing to tell his story to René and the others! Aren’t you, my little monkey?’ She tickled him until he began to giggle.

Her stoic good humour and the laughter melted the tension in the assembled crowd and Joe felt a wave of relief wash over them.

‘Then we should say three cheers for the hero of the hour,’ announced de Pacy, correctly interpreting the mood. ‘Hip, hip, hurrah!’ He led the responses with an uninhibited flourish of his silver spoon. Marius chuckled.

‘Excuse me? I’m looking for Monsieur de Pacy … Would you by any chance be he?’ enquired a chillingly polite voice as the last hurrah faded. ‘We were directed to the kitchens. Which would seem to be the centre of activity. In a manner of speaking, you could say I had an appointment. Let me present myself: Commissaire Jacquemin of the Brigade Criminelle, Paris.’ He allowed a moment for the import of this to sink in and then added: ‘And this is my assistant, Lieutenant Martineau of the Marseilles police. I apologize-we arrive a few minutes early.’