Knock 'Em Dead by Peter Morfoot

Author:Peter Morfoot
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Galileo Publishing
Published: 2020-02-27T12:42:23+00:00

27

The manner in which Daniela Wienawska lay sprawled over her mother put Flaco in mind of an orphaned puppy seeking suckle from a field mouse.

‘Daniela?’ Flaco was speaking to her left ear only. ‘You cleaned for Mademoiselle Rosay how many times a week?’

She uttered something that sounded like “wubs”.

‘I know you’re upset but would you sit up, please? I can’t hear what you’re saying.’

Daniela stayed put.

As if the experience of having the life crushed out of her was bringing her closer to God, Sonia Bera was smiling beatifically. ‘Yes, come on darling.’ Her words emerging in an effortful wheeze, she tried to ease her daughter’s sodden head off her chest. ‘Dani?’

In an agony of grief, the young woman righted herself and blew her nose. For the first time, Flaco was able to study her properly. Face: broad and flat as a shield. Eyes: blue, perhaps green – too tear-streaked to tell. Hair: blonde, straight, short. Frame: broad, heavy-boned. Limbs: muscular. Hands: large, capable-looking. Fingernails: short, clear varnish. Feet: large, square. Toenails: short, clear varnish. Clothes: navy, calf-length slacks, white blouse. A gold chain bearing a modest crucifix completed her ensemble. If Daniela were not drowning in tears, Flaco reflected, she would appear to be made of stern stuff, a strong, even tough-looking young woman.

‘Once,’ Daniela said, finally. ‘Once a week. Thursdays, 2 until 4.’

‘And you kept to your schedule yesterday?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you get in?’

‘Caroline let me in.’

‘You don’t have a key?’

‘No.’

‘And that was the last time you visited the house?’

‘Yes.’ Another blow and then, as if a switch had been thrown, she looked vehemently into Flaco’s eyes. ‘She was always lovely to me! Really lovely. And she paid better than my other clients.’

Sonia was still smiling but her eyebrows rose slightly as she tilted her head towards her daughter.

‘Except maminka.’

‘Pardon?’

‘She means me,’ Sonia said. ‘It’s the Czech word for “mama”.

Daniela drew her legs up under her and, wiping her eyes, sank back into the corner of the sofa. Finding no solace there, she sat forward, back, and forward once more, then clambered to her feet. ‘I need the toilet.’

‘Are you alright, darling? Do you need me?’

Already half-way to the door, Daniela shook her head.

‘She’ll be back presently,’ Sonia said, on full beam once more.

‘You’re from The Czech Republic, Madame Bera?’

‘I’m flattered you think I’m so young. I was born in Brno, Czechoslovakia.’ Sonia’s saintly eye was capable of a wicked glint. ‘ “Brno-born, bred and buttered,” as my own maminka used to say. What about you, Officer? Were you born here? In France, I mean.’

‘No. You work on reception at Centre Sicotte but you employ Daniela? As what?’

‘I work only part-time at the Centre. Just for something to do, really.’

By ignoring the second part of the question, Sonia had succeeded only in drawing Flaco’s attention to it. That it probably meant nothing did not deter her. ‘You employ Daniela?’

‘As a housekeeper, yes. I have three properties, one a villa over in Saint-Jeannet.’ She sat forward. ‘It makes a wonderful base for a week or two’s holiday.

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