Landru's Secret by Landru's Secret

Author:Landru's Secret [Secret, Landru's]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: TRUE CRIME / Murder / Serial Killers
Publisher: Pen & Sword Books Limited
Published: 2018-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Day Six: Saturday, 12 November

Landru was on perky form when he entered the court on Saturday, flanked by his usual escort of guards. “He takes off his bowler hat and gives the jurors a pleasant wave… a nice, friendly one,” Le Gaulois remarked.

Moro was late and missed the first hour, which was devoted to the final witnesses in l’affaire Guillin. None of them had any first-hand knowledge of what had happened to Marie-Angélique when she left Paris.

Finally Moro bustled into court, full of apologies, just as Gilbert began examining Landru on a critical issue: Why had he terminated his lease at Vernouillet in August 1915 and then rented the Villa Tric outside Gambais four months later?

“Was it because the house where you lived in Vernouillet was squeezed between two other buildings?” Gilbert enquired, alluding to a murderer’s need for privacy.

It was partly a matter of cost, Landru replied carefully, and partly because The Lodge had been too “dark” for his taste. “Note as well that I rented at Gambais with an option to buy the property. Now, someone who commits a crime – I am being modest, since I’m accused of committing seven crimes at this place – seeks to flee as quickly as possible from the theatre of his exploits.”

Gilbert let the jurors dwell on Landru’s supercilious reply while officials spread a plan of the Villa Tric’s layout on the evidence table. Once the jurors had inspected the plan, Gilbert resumed.

Why had Landru used the name “Dupont” when he had signed the lease on the villa?

“What do you expect?” Landru said, amazed at the judge’s obtuseness. “I often changed my name because I was being pursued by the law.”

“This sally by Landru prompted a burst of giggling from some fashionable ladies,” Le Journal reported. Several of them had even crept to the front of the gallery to get a better sight of the defendant. As an official shooed the women back to their seats, Gilbert threatened to clear the court if he heard more laughter.

Gilbert wanted to know why Landru had bought his little oven for the villa. “The court insinuates that I bought this oven in order to burn my victims,” Landru said. “Here, I appeal to the good sense of the jurors. It was winter; I couldn’t just die of cold and not be able to cook a hot meal.”

It was a good riposte, but Landru could not resist spoiling the effect with an irrelevant complaint about how “persons unknown” had stolen most of his coal. “I didn’t go to the police, for reasons you will understand.”

Pierre Vallet, the cobbler in Gambais who had doubled up as the villa’s janitor, was the next witness. He was a lean artisan in his early fifties with a hunted, defensive manner. Vallet had seen more of Landru than anyone else in Gambais, yet he seemed confused about what he could recall and his testimony made no sense. Vallet’s son Marcel, who had also visited the house regularly, was scarcely more coherent.

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