Flykiller Read Free Page A

us there’s a plot to assassinate the Maréchal Pétain.’
    Out of the darkness of his little corner, the nameless one tonelessly said, ‘Our Government does not want this to happen, Kohler, and you are to see that it doesn’t.’
    Scheisse! ‘Or else?’
    â€˜Just make certain you understand that we are all treading on broken glass these days,’ grunted Bousquet. ‘The hills of the Auvergne may well be a haven to terrorists.’
    â€˜But … but if what little you’ve told us so far is true, Secrétaire, these terrorists, on being interrupted during an attempt on the Maréchal’s life, took the girl from outside his door to silence her for fear of their being identified.’
    â€˜That is correct – at least, it is what I suspect must have happened, and that is why Monsieur Laval has asked for you both.’
    â€˜â€œFlykiller slays mistress of high-ranking Government employee,”’ quoted Kohler, remembering the telex Laval had sent to Gestapo Boemelburg in Paris. ‘Why “flies”?’
    â€˜An assassin!’ swore Bousquet angrily. ‘Can you not listen?’
    â€˜But … but a conclusion, Secrétaire, for which you have as yet offered no proof,’ countered Louis, deliberately baiting him.
    â€˜Only three corpses, idiot! The first two are being kept at the morgue in spite of the pleas of relatives for their release; the latest one is just as she was found and nothing – I repeat, nothing – has been touched. Not in her room at the Hôtel d’Allier, except for her carte d’identité which I myself removed, and not at the crime scene.’
    â€˜Good, that’s as it should be,’ said Louis. ‘But, then, perhaps before we view the victim, Monsieur de Fleury would enlighten us as to why, since she was his mistress, Madame Dupuis was knocking at the great one’s door? And on what day and at what time, please?’
    â€˜Céline didn’t want to do it but … but I begged her to, Inspector. The Maréchal, he has a passion for beautiful young women. He’s old – oh bien sûr – but age does not necessarily make a glacier of the urges.’
    â€˜And you were pimping for him?’ blurted Kohler, startled by the admission.
    â€˜A small favour,’ muttered Bousquet acidly.
    â€˜One I felt I could no longer refuse,’ de Fleury added.
    â€˜And at what time, then, Monsieur de Fleury, was he to have had his little moment?’ asked Louis.
    â€˜Tuesday night, at … at 9.40. I … I dropped her off outside the hotel. She … she was wearing her overcoat, scarf and beret, her gloves too. These things, they … they have not as yet been found.’
    Not found. ‘Height: 170 centimetres, Hermann (five feet seven inches); hair: blonde; eyes: blue; particular signs: none; nose: straight and average – normal, if you wish. Face: oval but the side profile doesn’t really do her justice. A very handsome young woman, Monsieur de Fleury. Stunning, I should think – you do like the pretty ones, don’t you? Complexion: pale.’
    St-Cyr tapped his partner on the shoulder and passed both torch and identity card to him. ‘A young widow, mon vieux . A working girl with a child to support who is no older than the one the Maréchal once bounced on his knee. Madame Pétain is known to be a very jealous and spiteful woman.’
    â€˜Idiot, Madame Pétain is well aware of the Maréchal’s infidelités !’ spat Bousquet.
    â€˜And you are angry with me, Secrétaire, when calmness is called for.’
    â€˜Truncheon! Just stick to what you’ve been told to do and leave Madame Pétain out of things. The fewer who know of this the better!’
    Just before St-Germain-des-Fossés they stopped at the side of the road for a piss. Kohler stood upwind of de Fleury. ‘Was she good in bed?’ he