Vince May - Presumed Dead

‘But I heard it on the radio yesterday,’ Philippe cut in.

‘And I spoke to the English police this morning,’ Batard said emphatically, ‘they were suspicious of Monsieur Webley having his wife cremated so soon, so they seized her body and it is now safe in a hospital in London.’

This time Philippe was genuinely shocked and surprised. All he could say was, ‘You mean…’

‘I mean,’ Batard finished for him, ‘that you must go to London to identify her, then you can take her home for a proper funeral.’

Philippe was choked. ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ he said with tears in his eyes.

Batard said. ‘You don’t have to thank me,’ he said. ‘If I had listened to you earlier, there would never have been a mistake. Now come on, I’ll drive you back to my office where we can speak to the English police and make arrangements for you to pick her up.’ On the way back, he told Philippe the incredible story of what had happened to Alice.

It was ten-thirty in England, and Hubbard was still at home when he took the call from Batard. ‘Chief Inspector? Batard here. I have Monsieur Dulac with me.’

‘Hello again Captain, how did he take the news?’

‘He is very happy, naturally,’ Batard said. ‘He would like to know when he can come to identify her.’

‘Anytime he likes, really,’ Hubbard replied. ‘How soon can he get here?’

Batard turned to Philippe who was sitting opposite his desk and asked in French, ‘When do you want to go?’

‘I have my car here so I could drive up tomorrow and be in London on Tuesday,’ Philippe said.

‘Is Tuesday convenient, Chief Inspector?’ Batard asked.

‘I’ve got Lady Webley coming in to see me on Tuesday morning,’ Hubbard said, ‘Tuesday afternoon about three would be a good time. If he comes to New Scotland Yard and asks for me, I’ll take him around to the hospital and arrange to have the body released to him. He’ll have to lay on some transport back to France.’

‘That’s fine, I will tell him.’

‘About that other matter,’ Hubbard said. ‘Have you been up to the hut yet?’

‘Yes I have, and I’m completely satisfied that Madame Webley is telling the truth.’ Philippe pricked his ears up and listened as Batard continued. ‘The path up to the hut is absolutely impassable without climbing equipment. Also, there are clear signs that the hut has been lived in by one person for about a week. There is no doubt in my mind that Madame Webley’s story is genuine.’

‘Thank you for that,’ Hubbard said with satisfaction, ‘that leaves me with just one suspect for the shooting. As soon as I get the statement from you I'm going to pick her husband up.’

They exchanged good-byes and rang off, then Batard turned to Philippe and said, while writing the same on a piece of paper, ‘Tuesday afternoon, three o’clock at New Scotland Yard. Ask for Chief Inspector Hubbard. You will need to arrange transport for her.’

Philippe took the sheet of paper with thanks and had just got up to go when Batard’s desk intercom buzzed. ‘Yes?’ he snapped, hitting a key.

‘Madame Webley is here to see you sir,’ the desk sergeant said.

‘Excellent, show her in,’ Batard replied, standing up, straightening his tie and running his fingers through his hair.

Philippe’s heart leapt at the sound of her name, and he had to fight very hard indeed to keep from giving his excitement away at the prospect of seeing her again so soon. ‘I’m glad you’re still here,’ Batard was saying as he came around from behind his desk. ‘I want you to meet Madame Webley.’

Batard opened the door. Standing there, looking divine in a blue and white striped summer dress, with her hair freshly washed and groomed, wearing a hint of makeup, was the woman of Philippe’s dreams. He felt his legs go weak at the sight of her.

‘Ah, Madame,’ Batard gushed in English as he shook her hand gently, ‘thank you for coming. I would like to introduce you to Monsieur Dulac, the gentleman I was telling you about.’

Alice’s heart had nearly stopped when the door opened and she’d seen Philippe standing behind Batard, but she’d managed to hide her shock and delight, and now walked towards him with a charming smile. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ she said, holding out her hand, ‘and I was very sorry to hear about your wife.’

As their hands touched in a formal handshake, they both felt a thrill of excitement and passion in the simple act. ‘Thank you Madame,’ Philippe said, holding her hand and looking deep into her eyes. ‘I’m very glad to see you looking so well. I understand you have been stuck in the Couvercle Hut for the last week.’

‘That’s right, but I was quite comfortable… especially last night when I finally managed to get some heat out of the stove,’ Alice said, her green eyes burning into him.

‘Ah, there is nothing to beat a night in the mountains,’ Philippe replied sincerely.

The whole exchange had seemed perfectly natural to Batard, who said, ‘We have just had some good news concerning the body of Madame Dulac.’

‘Oh?’ Alice exclaimed, turning to him with interest.

‘Yes, it seems that she has not been cremated after all. The English police were suspicious of your husband, so they took the body to a hospital where it is now awaiting identification.’

‘That’s wonderful news!’ Alice cried, turning back to Philippe. ‘I’m so happy for you!’ She wanted to hug him and share his joy, but held herself back.

‘Thank you Madame,’ Philippe said formally, adding for her benefit, ‘I intend to drive to England tomorrow, then go to Scotland Yard on Tuesday.’

‘That’s a coincidence,’ Alice said, ‘I have to go back to England tomorrow and to Scotland Yard on Tuesday too.’ She pretended to think for a moment then said, ‘I know you may find this terribly rude, but do you think I could trouble you for a lift? It’s just that with everything that’s happened lately, I’m a bit nervous of flying.’

‘Quite understandable,’ Batard butted in. ‘I’m sure Monsieur Dulac won’t mind taking you with him, eh Dulac?’

‘I would be delighted to have your company Madame,’ Philippe said nobly, with a little bow.

‘That’s settled then,’ Batard said ebulliently, rubbing his hands together. ‘Now Monsieur, where are you staying, just in case I need to speak to you again before you go?’

‘I don’t really know,’ Philippe replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. ‘I suppose I had better try to find a hotel that has some room.’

‘I believe there are some vacancies at the hotel where I am staying,’ Alice piped up. ‘You could try there. It’s the Jardin du Mont Blanc Hotel, on the Rue Joseph Vallot. If you mention my name to the manager, I’m sure he will be able to fix you up.’

‘I know the place,’ Philippe said. ‘Thank you, Madame, I will try there. Maybe you will permit me to buy you a drink later?’

‘I shall look forward to it Monsieur,’ Alice said, holding out her hand.

As they shook, the usual frisson of excitement passed between them, then Philippe was gone.

‘He seems like a very nice man,’ Alice commented to Batard as she accepted the seat in front of his desk that he held out for her.

‘Yes, he is a good man,’ Batard said, walking around his desk to sit in his own seat, ‘and he has had a very bad time these last few months.’

An hour and a half later, just after one clock local time, Alice’s signed statement was running through the fax machine to Hubbard’s office. When it had gone, Batard thanked Alice profusely and she headed back to her hotel.

Within minutes of it being sent, a secretary delivered the fax to Hubbard, who was waiting in his office with Butcher. Hubbard scanned the statement then handed it to Butcher, who let out a low whistle as he read. ‘Clever bastard, isn’t he?’