Judith Rock - The Eloquence of Blood

Startled, the dancing master tore his eyes from the body and bowed. Graceful, Charles noted, even in a midden beside a corpse.

“As Maitre du Luc told you, I am a friend of-of the Brion family. One of your men came to tell Mademoiselle Brion of her father’s death, and she sent me to find out what happened.”

La Reynie nodded slowly. “And you brought our friend Maitre du Luc. Mademoiselle Brion is fortunate in her champions. I had understood that she also has a brother. Perhaps I am misinformed?”

“Her brother was not at home, mon lieutenant-general.”

“And where is he?” La Reynie and the sergent exchanged a look.

Warned by the new quality in their attention, Morel’s eyes went to Charles in silent appeal.

“You will probably find Monsieur Gilles Brion at the Capuchin monastery across the river,” Charles said. “He hopes to be a monk.”

“And cannot be interrupted at his prayers even for his father’s death? A devout young man,” La Reynie murmured, making it clear that he would have that whole story from someone and soon. His gaze settled on Charles. “What do you know about this, Maitre du Luc? You did not come here only to pray.”

“No,” Charles agreed, returning the gaze. “I came to find out about Monsieur Brion’s death. As I told you, I was already wondering where he was, since no one seems to have seen him since Thursday evening.” Charles sorted rapidly through what he wanted and did not want to say. “Monsieur La Reynie, you said you knew that Henri Brion was Martine Mynette’s guardian. You may not know that she was adopted. Her adoptive mother died a week or so before Christmas and the donation entre vifs, drawn up some years ago by Henri Brion to ensure that the girl would get the mother’s considerable property, has been lost. There is no other family to inherit.”

La Reynie smiled. “But there are Jesuits.”

Charles let that pass. “Monsieur Brion claimed to be searching for the original of the adopted girl’s donation at the Chatelet, where he long ago registered the document. But it seems he was not.”

“Was not?” La Reynie echoed.

Morel was frowning angrily at both of them.

“A clerk there told me that Monsieur Henri Brion has not been seen at the Chatelet recently.”

La Reynie studied Charles. “What else?”

“Nothing,” Morel said, before Charles could answer.

“No?” The lieutenant-general smiled genially at Morel. “I see. Since you are Mademoiselle Brion’s representative, monsieur, will you go and tell her that after we have taken her father to the Chatelet and examined him for other wounds or anything else his body might tell us about his death, I will have him brought to his house?”

“I-she-” Morel chewed his lip. “Monsieur, this Mademoiselle Mynette of whom you have been speaking was Mademoiselle Brion’s dearest friend and she is grieving terribly for her. It is too much to expect her to see her father’s body, after what has been done to him!”

Charles put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “It will be a shock to her, yes. But do you not think that, even so, she will want to do the last offices for her father?”

“But wasn’t he a member of one of your confraternities? Couldn’t they see to him?”

“His uncle, Monsieur Callot, is a member of the Congregation of the Sainte Vierge, but Monsieur Brion was not. Forgive me, Monsieur Morel, but I wonder if you are not thinking too little of Mademoiselle Brion’s courage. That is an easy mistake to make with women. I have known Mademoiselle Brion a very short time, but I suspect she has more than enough courage-and love-for this new ordeal.”

Reluctantly, Morel nodded. “Yes, she has courage. And she loved her father. In spite of his faults.”

La Reynie said kindly, “Monsieur, please do me the favor of going now and telling her to expect her father’s body this afternoon. I will see that he is conveyed to her with all respect. She will be grateful for your coming now with my message, because she will have preparations to make.”

Morel hesitated and looked at Charles. “You will come with me, maitre?”

“I have another matter to discuss with Maitre du Luc,” La Reynie said smoothly. “Better not wait for him. For Mademoiselle Brion’s sake.” He gestured courteously toward the street.

With a last warning look at Charles, the dancing master went. When he was out of hearing, La Reynie said, “His reason for protecting the Brion daughter is obvious, but I also noticed that when the Brion son was mentioned, Monsieur Morel didn’t want us to talk about him. Is this son already a novice?”

“No, his father did not approve of his wish.”

“Ah. Did they quarrel over it? Could the son have killed him?”

“Yes to both. But I’ve met him and I don’t think he has the stomach for it.”

“Monsieur Morel was trying so hard to keep us from discussing him, I can only think he disagrees.”

“He is trying to save Mademoiselle Brion from more grief. As I would like to do, too. What he didn’t want you to know is that her brother has been quarreling with his father over more than religious vocation. His father was forcing him to court Martine Mynette for her money and he, of course, didn’t want to marry.”

“And now the unwelcome bride and the implacable father are both dead. Even a would-be monk may strike back if you push him too far. But how does this donation fit into that convenient picture-I would think Monsieur Henri Brion would have searched for it very diligently indeed. Why marry his son to a failed heiress? Which makes what the Chatelet clerk told you more than a little odd. Who is this clerk?”

“I don’t know his name,” Charles said absently, as his thoughts about Gilles Brion shifted suddenly. It was hard to see the young man as a killer. But a thief? Henri Brion indeed had no reason to want the donation lost, since he wanted the Mynette money. But Gilles Brion had an urgent reason. And he would have had opportunities to steal it, frequenting the Mynette house as a suitor. If the document disappeared permanently, so would the reason for the marriage. But Gilles Brion did not have his father’s access to the Chatelet records, so how could he also have stolen the original? Had he realized that he could not hope to get his hands on the original document and decided that killing his father was the only way to put an end to his difficulties?

La Reynie had turned to his sergent. “Leave the wood seller and her friends to guard the path, and get men to take the body to the Chatelet. And then to the Brion house. Which is where, Maitre du Luc?”

“Off the Place Maubert in the rue Perdue, at the Sign of Three Ducks.”

La Reynie nodded his thanks. “But before you do any of that,” he said to the sergent, “send a man to watch the Capuchin house on the rue St. Honore. If any young layman comes out or goes in, stop him. You are looking for Gilles Brion. What does he look like, Maitre du Luc?”

“Small, frail looking, brown hair. He wore embroidered linen the only time I saw him. And high heels on his shoes.”

“And if you find him, hold him there at the monastery until I come-tell him only that I need to speak with him.”

“Yes, mon lieutenant-general.” He climbed quickly up the slope and disappeared into the alley.

“Now,” La Reynie said, “as we climb out of here, maitre, tell me the rest of the reason you are concerning yourself in this.”

“As you obviously know, the Jesuit college stands to get the Mynette money. Simon Mynette, the father of the murdered girl’s adoptive mother, promised the money to the college when his daughter was gone, because there was no other family left. But that was before the adoption and the donation entre vifs. Now that Martine Mynette has been murdered, rumor is growing that Jesuits connived at her death to have the inheritance. I met Mademoiselle Mynette at the Brion house the day before she died. Pere Le Picart has asked me to find out what I can about her death to help quell the rumors that are flying. Unless Henri Brion’s killer is found quickly, this death is going to make them fly even faster.”