The Executioner Weeps by Frédéric Dard

Author:Frédéric Dard [Frédéric Dard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782272571
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2017-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

14

At eight the next morning I was back in Saint-Germain.

I found the presbytery, rang the bell at the gate and asked to see the curé. I had to wait for some time because he was saying mass, but I wasn’t put out at having to kick my heels because it gave me time to put the finishing touches to a plausible story—and even more so because the room where the serving girl had told me to wait was wonderfully conducive to reflection. There was a strong smell of floor polish, all the austere furniture was dark and a huge crucifix filled an entire section of the back wall. I told myself that when I spoke to the priest it would be best to get straight to the point. So when he came in—a tall, attentive figure, with wide myopic eyes and unhurried gestures—I didn’t give him time to ask questions.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Canon (I’d noticed the red border of his cassock). I’m with the crime squad.”

With a very professional gesture, I fingered my lapel, though without going so far as to turn it back.

Without further ado I put the photograph of Marianne down on his desk.

“I’m attached to Missing Persons, Family division. I’m currently making enquiries about a young woman. A case of amnesia. That’s her picture. Her clothes have the label of a dressmaker based in this area, which leads me to think that she might be from Saint-Germain too.”

He looked at the photograph and shook his head.

“I don’t know this person, inspector.”

“Are you quite sure, Canon?”

“Perfectly.”

He gave the picture back to me.

“Couldn’t they help you in the shop?”

“What shop?”

“Why… the shop you mentioned, the one that sold her the garments?”

I hadn’t thought of that. The priest saw that I hadn’t and couldn’t suppress a smile. I must have given him a low opinion of the police!

I clearly remembered the name of the shop: it was Février, not an easy one to forget. It was located in the main street, not far from the post office. It was a very modern shop and went back a long way. As I walked through the door I felt a pang because I was certain that Marianne had been here at some point in her past.

A shop assistant came up to me. She was a helpful, bright girl. I went through the routine about being a policeman because basically it was the simplest explanation and the most effective. People always try to satisfy the curiosity of the police. It’s human nature.

She listened to me without saying anything, but her small eyes, like a blackbird’s, sparkled with excitement.

When I held out the photo for her after running through my story, she put out one hand. It was trembling. This time there was no hesitation.

“Yes, I recognize the lady.”

“Does she live at Saint-Germain?”

“I imagine so. I’ve met her several times. When she came to buy a blouse I was the one who served her. She had her baby with her.”

The effect on me was the equivalent of having a bucket of water thrown in my face.

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