Barbara Cleverly - Folly Du Jour

‘Champagne? I was just about to have a glass of Ruinart. Will you join me?’

‘Gladly.’

She went to a buffet bearing a tray of ice bucket and glasses and began to fill two of the flutes, chattering the while.

‘Cigarette? I’m told these are good Virginian. . No?’ She screwed one into the end of an ebony holder and waited for him to pick up a table-lighter and hold the flame steady while she half-closed her eyes, pursed her scarlet mouth and drew in the smoke inexpertly. Joe read the message: English vicar’s daughter, fallen amongst rogues and thieves and ruined beyond repair, yet gallantly hanging on to some shreds of propriety. He was meant to recall that, for someone of her background, smoking was a cardinal sin. He smiled. He remembered her puffing away like a trooper at an unfiltered Afghan cigarette in Simla.

‘Five years?’ she asked, her thoughts following his, back into the past. ‘Can it really be five years since we said goodbye to each other on the steamer? You’re doing well, I hear. And I hear it from George of all people. We met at the theatre the other day. Did you know he was in Paris?’

‘Yes, I did. But tell me how you knew he was going to be here, Alice.’

‘No secret! You know my ways! In India I was always aware of who exactly was coming and going. It’s just as easy to keep track of people over here if you know the right man to ask. And the French are very systematic and thorough in their record keeping. A few francs pushed regularly in the right direction and I have all the information I need at my fingertips or rather in my shell-like ear. .’ She glanced at a telephone standing on a table by the window. ‘Bribes and blackmail in the right proportions, Joe. Never fails. Tell me now — how did you find George? Is he all right? I heard a certain piece of nastiness was perpetrated after I left the theatre. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here?’

Alice shuddered. ‘I blame myself. If I hadn’t shot off like that, he would never have gone over and got himself involved with all that nonsense. Look, Joe, I’d rather not break surface and I’m sure you can understand why but if he’s desperately in need of help, then — oh, discretion can go to the winds — the man’s a friend of mine. I do believe that. I always admired him. If I can say anything, sign anything to get him out of that dreadful prison, then I will. That is why you’re here, Joe?’

‘No, it’s not. And don’t concern yourself about George. No action required — I’m sure I can manage.’

‘I’m assuming he is still over there on the island?’ she asked less certainly. ‘Or have you managed to get him out?’

‘He’s in police custody,’ said Joe, looking her straight in the eye. Alice had, he remembered, an uncanny way of knowing when she was being told a lie. And she was likely to have developed such a skill leading the dubious life she’d led. He wouldn’t have trusted himself to tell her anything but the truth. ‘Still in the hands of the French police,’ he said again. ‘He’s not enjoying the downy comfort of the Bristol which is where he ought to be but I’m pleased for him to be where he is. For the moment. I don’t believe Paris to be an entirely safe place for him. I’ve persuaded Commissaire Fourier, in charge of the case, to go more easily on him — the Chief Inspector seems to think he ought still to have the use of medieval methods of extracting a confession as well as the medieval premises.’

‘Poor, dear George! You must do what you can, Joe!’

‘Of course. I visit every day. I’m happy to report the bruises are healing. He enquired after you when I saw him this morning. Wanted to know that you are well and happy.’

‘Ah? You will reassure him then?’

‘Can I do that? Tell me — what should I report of little Alice in Wonderland? Business good, is it?’

For a moment she was taken aback. ‘My businesses always do well. You know that, Joe. Until some heavy-footed man comes along and stamps them into the mud.’

He decided to go for the frontal attack. ‘So — how do you get on with the management of the Sphinx? Your competitors can’t have been too enchanted when you came along and set up here in their rabbit patch. Have you come to some amicable agreement? Equable share of the lettuces? They have a Paris bank underpinning them financially, I understand. I wonder how you manage, Alice? A single, foreign woman?’ He shook his head. ‘No. Wouldn’t work, would it?’ And, abruptly: ‘Who’s your partner?’

He saw the moment when she made up her mind. Alice hadn’t changed. She was behaving as she had done years ago. Why not? It had deceived him then. Wide-eyed, she was about to plunge into a confession to a sin she knew would revolt him, a sin in his eyes so reprehensible it would distract him from and blind him to the deeper evil she must keep hidden at all cost.

‘Very well. I see you’ve worked it out. I run a brothel. The very best!’ She made the announcement as though she’d just made a fortune on the stock exchange and wanted him to share in celebrating her good luck. ‘Even you, old puritan that you are, Joe, could hardly object. My clients are the cream of society. The richest, at any rate. . They demand and I supply the loveliest girls, dressed by Chanel, jewels by Cartier, conversation topics from the New Yorker .’

‘I understand. Expensive whores. Is that what you’re dealing in these days? But, of course, you learned a good deal from Edgar Troop, Brothel-Master Extraordinaire, branches in Delhi and Simla.’

‘These girls aren’t whores! They are hetairai — intelligent and attractive companions!’ Pink with anger, she put out her cigarette, creasing her eyes against the sudden flare of sparks and smoke. Calculating whether she was wasting her time in self-justification. ‘You are not in England, Commander. Are you aware of the expression maison de tolérance ?’

‘I have it on my information list, just above magasin de fesses and abattoir ,’ he said brutally. ‘Knocking shop and slaughterhouse, to translate politely.’

‘Tolerance!’ she replied angrily. ‘These establishments are exactly that — tolerated — not hounded out of existence by hypocrites like you. As long as the ladies succumb to their weekly health check — the doctor visits — we break no rules. So, if you’ve come to threaten me, I’m not impressed. If the Law can’t close down those abattoirs in the rue de Lappe, they’re hardly likely to turn their attention on me . Not with the list of habitués I have. . députés , industrialists, royalty, diplomats. . senior police officers,’ she finished triumphantly. ‘ You will be seen leaving. You may be sure of that! I may even send your superior a photograph to show how his pet investigator adds to his expenses.’

Her lip curled as she played with an amusing thought. ‘Though, in the manly English way, he’d probably summon you to his office to compare notes.’

‘Probably,’ Joe agreed, the further to annoy her. ‘Tell me — where do you recruit? I can’t see you standing in line with the other pimps at the Gare du Nord?’

‘My girls are top drawer! Your sister was probably at school with some of them. .’ she added defiantly. ‘Some of them I found in the music hall line-ups, some had just run away to Paris for excitement, some are escaping violent men in their lives. . Not many openings for unsupported girls in these post-war days, you know. Men have flooded back and elbowed women out of the jobs they’d found in fields, factories and offices — ’

‘Spare me the social treatise, Alice!’ Joe growled. ‘You look ridiculous on that soap-box, champagne glass in hand, a hundred quid’s worth of ruby over your left ear and twenty girls on their backs down the corridor, working for you.’