Graeme Burnet - The Disappearance of Adèle Bedeau

‘You must be Georges,’ she said. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you. Céline tells us you’re soon to be head of Saint-Louis police.’

Gorski laughed. ‘I’m just starting out,’ he said.

‘And modest as well,’ said Mme Keller. Gorski was surprised that Céline had been boasting about him to her parents. She called up the stairs to Céline and they stood waiting in silence for a few minutes. Céline came down the stairs in a summer dress with large buttons up the front, fastened at the waist with a thin brown leather belt. Gorski immediately thought how easy it would be to access. Mme Keller asked what they were up to.

‘I thought we might go to the Camargue. For a walk,’ said Gorski. The Petite Camargue was a small nature reserve some kilometres north of the town.

‘How lovely,’ said Mme Keller cheerfully. ‘Watch out for snakes.’ She gave a mock shiver.

They got into the car and drove off. Gorski had brought a rug and put a bottle of wine and two glasses wrapped in newspaper in a canvas knapsack. They walked for half an hour before finding a spot overlooking the lake. Gorski laid out the rug. The sun filtered through the foliage above them and made dappled patterns on their skin. Céline was quiet. Gorski poured two glasses of wine. He downed his first glass too quickly and poured himself another. Céline put hers on the ground next to the rug. It spilled and the wine soaked into the earth. She lay back and closed her eyes. Gorski was lying on his side next to her, leaning on his elbow. He put his hand on her bare leg and moved it under her dress. Céline did not protest. Then he undid the buttons at the top of her dress. She was not wearing a brassiere. Lying on her back, her breasts completely disappeared. Her clavicles protruded through her skin, as thin as wishbones. Gorski kissed her and stroked her breasts. Céline parted her legs a little. Gorski unfastened his trousers and climbed onto her. He got inside her and managed to sustain two or three minutes of thrusting before he ejaculated. Céline clutched the back of his neck. Afterwards he took off his shirt and lay on his back next to her. The sun was warm on his skin. He could hear the rustling of the leaves in the breeze and the lapping of the water of the lake. Céline lay with her dress open and rumpled around her waist. Gorski could not help smiling to himself as he thought of his animalistic fumblings with Marthe, with her rolls of puppy fat, great flopping breasts and peasant smell. Céline could not have been more cool and elegant. Even her body, like that of a skinny boy, seemed a study in good taste and restraint.

Sundays became their day. They would drive to the Camargue or some other isolated spot. Gorski’s performance became more assured. Céline never spoke during the act, but there was a kind of grim determination in her will to orgasm. Afterwards they would go to an inn and have a simple lunch and a bottle of wine. Often there was little conversation during these lunches. Gorski did not know what to talk to Céline about and she made little effort. Sometimes she corrected the manner in which Gorski held his cutlery or wiped up his sauce with his bread. At times Gorski was embarrassed. Other couples chatted unselfconsciously and made fun of each other. He could never imagine teasing Céline.

After a few months, Mme Keller insisted that Gorski join them for Sunday lunch. Céline did not appear particularly thrilled by the idea and Gorski was frustrated that their weekly lovemaking would be disrupted, but he realised that the invitation represented a step up in the seriousness of their relationship. Gorski, under instruction from Céline, bought a new jacket and slacks for the occasion. He expected Céline to remain rather aloof from him, but, to his surprise, she was uncharacteristically warm. She sat next to him on the sofa in the large drawing room and clutched his hand in her lap. Gorski had rarely spoken to M. Keller, who was by then planning to run for mayor of Saint-Louis, but he too behaved warmly towards him. Over lunch it transpired that he knew Ribéry and made no secret of the fact that he had asked him about Gorski.

‘He speaks very highly of you, my boy. “A very bright young man” were his exact words, I believe.’

Gorski did not know what to say. Céline squeezed his knee under the table.

‘Of course,’ M. Keller went on, adopting a more confidential tone, ‘we all know that the inspector is not…’ he made a show of weighing his words carefully, ‘…not the most diligent in the execution of his duties.’ He mimed a drinking motion with his hand and winked at Gorski. Gorski did not say anything, not wishing to be disloyal to his superior.

‘Which leads me to suppose,’ he went on, ‘that we’ll be seeing a new chief of police installed in the not too distant future.’

The following Sunday, Gorski asked Céline to marry him. She shrugged her shoulders and accepted. She was, it turned out, nineteen.

Céline tapped a teaspoon on a champagne glass to gain the attention of those assembled in the shop. She graciously thanked everyone for coming and announced that the time had come for the presentation of her autumn collection. There was a ripple of applause. At the end of her little speech, she reminded her audience not to forget that the real purpose of the evening was not to enjoy themselves, but to spend money. ‘Why else would I ply you with champagne?’ she concluded. Everyone laughed. The lights were lowered and the music was turned up. A succession of girls appeared from the storeroom and made a turn around the shop. These were teenagers Céline had recruited from the local schools and been rehearsing for weeks. Two or three of the girls were very beautiful. Gorski tried not to let his eyes linger on their bodies. After their circuit of the shop, the girls would dash back into the storeroom before reappearing in a different outfit. The audience applauded. Many of them, Gorski realised, were parents of the models. He had to admit that it was very efficiently organised. He caught Clémence’s eye. She jabbed two fingers towards her mouth in a gagging motion. Gorski ignored her. He looked at Céline. She was not watching the girls, but observing the delighted expressions on the faces of her guests, smiling broadly. Gorski felt suddenly affectionate towards her and determined not to do anything more to spoil her evening. The show lasted no more than fifteen minutes. At the end, the models came out to take the applause of the audience. They gathered round Céline and hugged her. Céline affected a modest expression and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Gorski raised his glass towards her in a gesture of congratulation. Then he slipped out.

A few people had gathered on the pavement outside and were lighting cigarettes. Like Mme Bettine before her, Céline did not allow smoking in the shop. Gorski lit a cigarette of his own and walked slowly around the perimeter of the little park. The sky was clear and there was a chill in the air. He held his cigarette in his mouth and pulled on his raincoat. When he reached the opposite side of the park he could still hear the faint hubbub coming from the shop. When he was sure nobody was looking, he stubbed out his cigarette and stepped into the shrubs in front of the apartment building opposite. He stood for a few minutes observing the spot where, a week before, Alex Ackermann had waited for Adèle. The lights of the shop were still visible through the leaves, but he could no longer hear anything, as if he was viewing the scene from behind a pane of glass. There was a strange pleasure in standing unseen in the bushes. He remained there for a few minutes thinking about Adèle. He imagined her climbing onto the back of Ackermann’s scooter and zipping off into the night. Then, on the pavement opposite, he saw Manfred Baumann. He was walking slowly in the direction of his apartment with a woman on his arm. Gorski stepped further back into the shrubs and watched them pass. The woman was walking a little unsteadily. Gorski did not recognise her. The couple did not appear to be talking. When they were out of view, the door to the apartment building behind Gorski opened. Gorski was startled and turned round abruptly. A middle-aged man with a terrier stared at him questioningly. Gorski fumbled in his coat for his ID, before whispering, ‘Police.’