Barbara Cleverly - Tug of War

They ordered breakfast sitting on a café terrace in the sunshine while it was still cool enough to be comfortable. Crunching his way through his first croissant from the pile of still-warm rolls served in a napkin inside a silver basket, Bonnefoye stopped chewing, wiped his mouth and spoke to Joe in a low voice.

‘I wonder if you’ve noticed. . will be surprised to hear. . that your niece is also taking breakfast at the Café de la Paix? And she’s not alone. She is accompanied by a gentleman. Odd choice of escort, I’d have said. They’re sitting four tables away, north-north-west.’

Joe was alarmed and puzzled. He’d slipped a note under Dorcas’s door which clearly said he’d left instructions for breakfast to be brought up to her in her room and she was to stay there until he returned. He risked a quick look over his shoulder in the direction indicated. Dorcas caught his eye and waved to him. He identified her escort at once and turned back to Bonnefoye with a relaxed smile.

‘All’s well. I know the gentleman. Nice chap. He’s staying at our hotel. He’s a mayor from a small town in the Ardennes, I think he said. Poor fellow — I’d say he’s on his last legs. He had a heart attack or something very like it just after dinner the other day. I suspect there’s not much one can do for him. Don’t worry, he’s quite safe with Dorcas. The child has had a rather sparse and unsatisfactory family for the early years of her life and it’s my theory that she goes about collecting relations. She picked up an older brother in Georges Houdart and now she’s acquiring a grandfather figure, I’d say. They were both alone in the hotel — much better to have someone congenial to chat to over the café au lait in the sunshine. All the same, I don’t think we’ll ask them to join us.’

‘A mayor? What did you say his name was?’ said Bonnefoye.

‘I didn’t. But he’s called Didier Marmont and he’s an old soldier.’

The telephone call came, as promised, exactly an hour later and Joe was able to infer from Bonnefoye’s responses that there had been results and the results were confirming their suspicions. After effusive thanks, Bonnefoye put down the receiver.

‘There we have it!’ he exclaimed. ‘A large amount of money was withdrawn from the account of Clovis Houdart in late August 1914. It was in the form of a cheque made out to one Dominique de Villancourt. Now we can’t get at his banking details but what’s the betting that this same sum of money made its way through agents and lawyers carrying the signature of de Villancourt and ended up paying for the purchase of a flat overlooking the Bois de Boulogne — it’s about the right price for such a property in 1914. The legal papers which, er — ’ Bonnefoye flashed a disarming smile — ‘you may possibly not be aware that I had seen. .’

‘Mademoiselle Desforges, at least, would appear to be the epitome of honesty and forthrightness,’ said Joe. ‘She told me you had them.’

‘Indeed. These papers, as she avowed, bear his signature and this I have been able to authenticate. The same signature also appears on the subsequent transfer of the deeds to the grateful lady. A good friend! A man happy to lend his name to a bosom pal anxious to hide his amatory activities from family and acquaintances — activities carried on within a few miles of the home he was determined to protect? Time to say hello to your elephant?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ said Joe. ‘Our Thibaud was a busy boy. Leading a life of danger on the battlefield and off it. . But I’m thinking, Bonnefoye, that from what I’ve perceived of the French way of going on over the years — and I know you’ll shoot me down if I’m wrong — keeping a mistress, in whatever state of luxury, is not held to be a cardinal sin or even anything out of the ordinary Not a reason for all these expensive manoeuvrings, surely? And he had, from the start of the affair, told Mireille that he was a married man.’

Bonnefoye nodded his agreement and waited to hear more.

‘So why the rather desperate attempts at concealment? I think we’re looking at this from the wrong perspective. I don’t think Clovis was hiding his wife from his mistress. I think it was the other way around. Don’t you think that perhaps Clovis was all too aware of the strength of his wife’s emotional surges — her unpredictability? And was at pains to shield his lover from her,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘Having seen the lady at close quarters, I must say, I’d rather face a charge of Uhlans than an Aline Houdart who’d just discovered that her husband was madly in love with another woman, intending to leave her for a nobody — a little seamstress from Reims. Or even worse — intending to send her back to her parents in Paris and retain his son and his life at Septfontaines. I’m just surprised that he managed to get away with his throat uncut. On that occasion.’

‘But you tell me that Aline was herself conducting an affair. .’

‘The fact that she was betraying him would not weigh heavily with Aline. Charles-Auguste said it — “What Aline believes to be the truth becomes the truth.” He thinks his cousin may be a little. . there may be a slight cerebral. . not sure what the correct medical term would be. .’ Joe finished delicately.

‘Crazy?’ said Bonnefoye. ‘I had wondered! And if you were married to her wouldn’t you want a Mireille in your life? I’ve got to know Mademoiselle Desforges slightly in the course of this case and I have to say, Sandilands, that were she not so earthy, so worldly, so full of life and mischief we’d have to say she was an angel.’

He sighed a very Gallic sigh.

‘But she’s about to be a disappointed angel, I’m afraid,’ said Joe. ‘Clovis and Dominique are one and the same and there’s no separating them. I suppose we could take a leaf out of King Solomon’s book in the matter of assigning possession but I’ve always thought that a very chancy procedure. In law the man must be returned to his rightful home and the bosom of his family. You’re going to have to make the decision, Bonnefoye. Sign the forms. Yours is the finger on the pen.’

‘Correction,’ said Bonnefoye. ‘ We’ll have to make the decision. I’m not bearing the weight of this alone. We will summon the good doctor to a conference and he as the medical authority in the case, you representing Interpol and I as the case officer, will come to a unanimous decision. This afternoon. This has gone on for quite long enough. We’ll do this at the hospital. Can you attend, let’s say after lunch at two o’clock?’

‘I’ll do that,’ Joe nodded. ‘So — we have an identity. The unknown soldier is unknown no longer. I wonder if the general public will remain enthralled by the story?’

‘Perhaps — if we were to tell them the whole tale. But I shall give out a severely edited version. I don’t know about you, Sandilands, but I got quite fond of the old bugger — Clovis, I suppose we should get used to saying. I’d like the rest of his semi-life to be as uncomplicated as possible. And I’ll deliver a strongly worded warning about patient-care to la Houdart before she takes delivery, don’t worry!’

‘Poor old Thibaud,’ said Joe sadly. ‘I shall always think of him as Thibaud, I’m afraid.’

‘I have the strongest misgivings about this. You may only come if you swear to stay in the background and not protest about the decisions taken. You know what you’re like. This is official business. A man’s life and future are at stake, to say nothing of three men’s reputations — I won’t have you sticking your oar in.’ He flicked open his napkin in a decisive manner.