Douglas Kennedy - Woman in the Fifth

‘Did he give you any reason for the attacks?’

‘How could he — as he continues to deny them? But we did discover that his employer, Monsieur Sezer, was having a long-running dispute with Attani over the protection that Sezer charged for the bar Attani owned. And in the case of Monsieur Omar, we have heard rumors that he had borrowed a significant sum from Monsieur Sezer — which he was supposed to be paying back, at an exorbitant rate of interest, on a weekly basis. So we will also be charging Sezer with ordering the two murders. With any luck, we can turn Klefki against his employer — in exchange for a fifteen-year sentence, rather than life imprisonment …

‘So, Monsieur Ricks — you are free to leave. But if you could tell us anything else about Monsieur Sezer and his various business enterprises …’

‘Why would I know about such things?’

‘Because we know you work for him.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘There is an alleyway on the rue du Faubourg Poissonniere, near the corner of the rue des Petites Ecuries. You have been spotted going in there most nights.’

‘By whom?’

‘As I told you yesterday, I ask the questions here.’

‘I use the place as an office.’

‘Yes, we found your laptop when we raided it yesterday.’

‘You raided it?’

‘Another question, monsieur . If it is merely your office, why is there a television monitor on the table where you work? A monitor connected to a television camera on the street.’

‘Yeah, that was there when I rented the office.’

‘Rented it from whom?’

‘Sezer,’ I said, knowing full well that if I mentioned Kamal’s name, they would start asking questions about how I knew the late owner of my local Internet cafe and whether I had any thoughts on why his body was discovered some months back in a dumpster near the Peripherique. Anyway, Sezer would back me up here, because he didn’t want it known what went on downstairs … though I was certain that the cops had already raided the place and were now trying to see how much I knew.

‘What did you pay Sezer for the office?’ Coutard asked.

‘Sixty euros a week.’

‘Not much for an office.’

‘Well, it’s not much of an office.’

‘And you worked there on your novel …’

‘Most nights from midnight until dawn.’

‘But on the night that Omar was murdered …’

‘I was having writer’s block, so I went for an all-night stroll.’

‘You didn’t mention this when I first questioned you.’

‘Mention what?’

‘Mention that you were at your “office” before taking your all-night stroll.’

‘That’s because you didn’t ask me.’

Pause. A quick glance between Leclerc and Coutard.

‘It’s rather convenient, you being “out walking” the night Omar was murdered.’

‘I thought you’d found your murderer already?’

‘Yes, we have. It was just a passing comment, that’s all. But I would like to know if you were acquainted with your neighbors in the building where you maintained your “office”.’

‘No, I wasn’t.’

‘Do you have any idea of what sort of business was going on in the “office” on the ground floor?’

‘None whatsoever. Do you?’

Another look from Coutard to Leclerc.

‘We raided the place last night,’ Leclerc said. ‘The downstairs office — it was more like a small warehouse space — was empty. But it looked like it had been cleared out, with haste, only a few hours before we got there. Our forensic team did discover traces of blood in the wood floors and the walls, as well as several large electrical cables … the types often used for cinema lights. There was also a stagelike area in the center of the space, with a few pieces of furniture and a bed. The mattress had vanished, the headboard on the bed had been washed, but there were still microscopic particles of blood imbedded in the woodgrain.’

Coutard came in here.

‘Our belief is that the downstairs premises were used to front several activities — including the making of pornographic and snuff films. You know what snuff films are, don’t you?’

I nodded — and remembered the night the body was dragged out as I peered out of my doorway. But if I had been the night watchman for a snuff film operation, why didn’t I hear other bodies being carted away?

‘We have been aware, for some time, that these sorts of films have been shot in this quartier . We just didn’t know where. Now we have reason to believe it was in the same building where you were writing your novel.’

‘That’s news to me.’

‘And that is bullshit, monsieur ,’ Coutard said. ‘You were the guard on the door; the man who vetted everyone who came and went there. That’s why you had the monitor on your desk.’

‘I never knew what was going on downstairs. I never used the television monitor. As far as I was concerned the building was empty.’

‘We also found traces of cocaine and laxative in the kitchen area of the downstairs space,’ Leclerc said. ‘So a drugs operation was also working out of the same premises. And forensics turned up traces of gelignite as well.’

‘Gelignite is a plastic explosive,’ Coutard said. ‘A favorite of bomb makers. And still you had no idea of the activities taking place directly below you?’

‘Absolutely none.’

‘He’s a liar, isn’t he?’ Coutard asked Leclerc.

‘I’ve no doubt he was the night watchman,’ Leclerc said, ‘but he could have been kept in the dark as to what was going on downstairs.’

‘I think he knew everything .’

‘I knew nothing,’ I said.

‘We weren’t speaking to you.’

‘You have no proof I knew anything,’ I said.

‘Monsieur,’ Coutard said, ‘I can legally hold you for another twenty-four hours … which I will be most willing to do if you are disrespectful to us again.’

‘I mean no disrespect,’ I said.

‘Curious man, Monsieur Ricks,’ Coutard said to Leclerc. ‘You know about the circumstances that brought him to a chambre de bonne in our quartier ?’

‘I read the dossier, yes.’

‘And do you remember from the dossier that there was a man in authority at the mediocre college who orchestrated Monsieur Ricks’s downfall?’

‘Wasn’t that the same man who ran off with Ricks’s wife?’

‘Absolutely. And during the course of my further investigations into Monsieur Ricks’s background yesterday, I discovered a fascinating new twist to the extraordinary narrative that is Monsieur Ricks’s life. I typed in the name of the college at which Monsieur Ricks used to teach. What was it called again?’

‘Crewe College,’ I said.

‘That’s it. Anyway, among the many entries listed was a news report from a local paper. It seems that the Dean of this college — a Monsieur Robson — was dismissed from his job just a few days ago when it was discovered that he had an extensive child pornography library on his computer at work.’

‘What?’ I said loudly.

‘You heard me. According to the paper, it’s quite the scandale . Your ex-wife must be appalled.’

I put my head in my hands.

‘He looks upset,’ Leclerc said.

I wasn’t upset. I was suffering from a massive dose of disbelief and horror as I recalled the remnants of an exchange I had had with Margit only a few days earlier.

‘So,’ she said to me, ‘what do you think would be an appropriate payback for all the harm he perpetrated?’

‘You want me to fantasize here?’

‘Absolutely. The worst thing that could happen to the bastard.’

‘You mean, like discovering that he had a huge collection of kiddy porn on his computer?’