Ясмина Реза - Babylon

“He didn’t ask me to help him.”

“If he had asked you to . . .”

“ . . . Help him how?”

“No, ma’am. There you have to say: ‘I did not help him, the proof is, I urged him to call the police.’ Who called the police? Was it he or you?”

“Both of us.”

“What does that mean, both of you? Who was holding the receiver?”

“He was. I dialed 17 and handed him the receiver . . .”

“Ah! You dialed 17.”

“Yes.”

“If you hadn’t run into the neighbor, would you have dialed 17?”

“ . . . Yes . . . of course.”

“Madam, you must not hesitate on this point.”

“Yes, of course.”

“It’s important.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Now then. You knew he was in the process of fleeing . . .”

“No, I did not know that.”

“It was when you went downstairs that . . .”

“When I saw the elevator blinking, I called out. I called out, and since I got no answer even though the car was just below my level and I knew I could be heard, I opened the stairwell door. I heard footsteps running down. I know my neighbor takes the stairs and that no one else uses them. I thought something odd was going on. I went down myself, I opened the lobby door and saw him pulling the big suitcase out of the elevator. Then I did understand what was happening . . . Because I saw the enormous bulging suitcase . . . But as I was going down I had no idea what to expect . . .”

“Except that you were expecting the police who didn’t arrive.”

“Yes . . . But it could have been someone else in the elevator . . .”

“And so you right away said ‘Stop!’”

“Yes. No, I said, ‘What are you doing? What’s in the suitcase?’”

“Even before you ever saw the young woman neighbor, you’d immediately tried to persuade him not to flee.”

“The first thing I did was grab the purse, he was holding a purse and there was a coat lying on top of the suitcase, I took the bag and the coat, I said, ‘What are you doing, you’re crazy!’ And then the neighbor came in . . . that made it easier, the neighbor . . .”

“He told you his wife was in the suitcase? . . .”

“No. I don’t recall . . . It was implicit.”

“And you had no trouble persuading him . . .”

“I had no trouble, uh . . . No . . . I had no trouble per-suading him.”

“But if you hadn’t been there he would have left?”

“I can’t say.”

“For him, the neighbor made the difference? If the neighbor hadn’t turned up, you wouldn’t have managed to persuade him?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“You don’t know.”

“No.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Three years.”

“A relation of friendship.”

“Friendship.”

“With some intimacy . . . some confidentiality?”

“No . . . We use the formal vous with each other.”

“He told you about his problems with his wife?”

“No. He didn’t have any. I mean I don’t think so. He never spoke of any.”

“What are your relations with his wife?”

“Very cordial. She came to my party. It was very pleasant.”

“You like her?”

“Yes . . .”

“How does it work, in a couple, when a person is friends with one of the two? You’re sure there was no . . . You don’t think there could have been some jealousy on her part, given the connection between the two of you?”

“He told me a little about what happened after the party and I had nothing to do with . . .”

“Nothing to do with it?”

“Nothing.”

“That was the first time you’d invited them over?”

“Yes . . .”

“So, a separate relationship between this man and you, and one not based on . . . intimacy, on confidentiality.”

“No.”

“Based on what, that relationship?”

“It involved some confidential talk, yes, but about matters in the past . . . Childhood, our respective childhoods, life in general, but we never talked about our marital situations. We’d already spent time together, the four of us. Lydie sang in jazz clubs, it was her hobby, and Jean-Lino took us to listen to her. We all have good memories of it.”

“So then: a relationship with nothing hidden about it . . . Madam, I permit myself to insist: Do not play lightly with that. Should it develop that the relationship is not what you describe, there could be problems.”

“Our relations are clear.”

“Your husband will be questioned. He’ll confirm the nature of the connections you’ve had with this man?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re affirmative: you rule out any expression of jealousy on your husband’s part? You know very well that a friendship between a man and a woman can—”

“No. No jealousy.”

“Excuse me for asking the question, ma’am, but have you ever had any involvement with the penal system before?”

“Never.”

“And your husband?”

“No.”

“And your neighbor?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

“You’re sure?”

“For my husband and me, I’m sure.”

“And you have complete confidence in that man?”

“Yes.”

“What was your reaction when you learned that he had killed: . . . You were frightened for him? You were worried for him??”

“Yes.”

“But you think that the reasons he had, and that he gave you, can prevail before the law? In the courts? You thought it was best for him to turn himself in?”

“Yes. I think something crazy happened. Maybe the fact of our party, where everyone did drink a little . . . I think that it’s a dreadful accident. A fit of madness. He had absolutely no intention of killing his wife.”

“So it’s best that he should explain himself.”

“Certainly.”

“Do you envisage for a moment that he’d accuse you of wanting to help him to flee? Or to hide his wife’s body?”

“No.”

“Madam, from the moment you’re seen together, you holding the coat, the handbag, a person could think you’re going to help him. Now that’s the point that needs to be laid to rest . . . He could not accuse you of that?”

“No.”

“The young woman, the neighbor—could she accuse you?”

“The neighbor can only say what she saw. I’ll confirm that. She saw the two of us in the lobby, he near the door and me behind him holding the coat and the bag.”

“Did you speak?”

“No. We heard her coming. We didn’t speak. Actually, we were petrified to see her, to be honest. I was petrified because there was a dead body in the suitcase.”

“I bet!”

“I was petrified for him and even for me, to tell the truth. I mean, after all, I was aware of being in a situation I should not have been in. Since the suitcase belongs to us.”

“The suitcase belongs to you?”

“Yes. I’d lent it to Lydie a few days ago. She wanted to move some things into her office.”

“They don’t have a suitcase, your neighbors?”

“She wanted to move some linens and cushions that take up a lot of room. And besides, a big suitcase would spare her making a second trip.”

“And your neighbor—was he aware of the loan?”

“I don’t know. He must have seen it in his house.”

“I remind you that what you’re going to tell the police soon will be on formal record and will bind you for the future. Everything depends on your good faith and on your ability to convince. Your history holds together. It has the weight of truth. But I call your attention to the fact that the investigations will all be wide-ranging and thorough, your home will be searched, your husband interrogated . . . What is your work, madam?”

“I’m a patent engineer at the Pasteur Institute.”