The Lady in The Car With Glasses and A Gun by Sebastien Japrisot

Author:Sebastien Japrisot [Japrisot, Sebastien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Shuster
Published: 2015-06-22T07:00:00+00:00

“I called the restaurant where we had lunch that noon.” “You’re a cool customer.”

“Did you follow me in Cassis ? Why didn’t you speak to me right away?”

“I didn’t know what was going on in your head. Whose car is this ?”

“My employer’s.”

“Did he lend it to you?”

“No. He doesn’t know I took it.”

“Go on.”

I saw a host of questions in his eyes. The same ones he must have seen in mine. He was still holding my right hand, but mistrust paralyzed us both. At last he asked, “You really don’t know this man?”

“No.”

“You didn’t know he was in your trunk?”

“You saw me open it in Cassis. Did I look as if I knew what was in it ?”

“You could have been putting on an act.”

“So could you! You’re a pro, aren’t you? You haven’t stopped acting since last night.”

“Somebody put him in there, and it wasn’t me. Think a minute, Dany. He was dead before I met you, you know.”

“How do you know ?”

“I have eyes! He’s been dead for at least forty-eight hours.”

“You could have put him in the trunk long after you killed him.”

“When, for example?”

“In Chalon, last night.”

“And you think I’d travel around for a whole day with a stiff on my hands? Even in Chalon? Forget the movies, come down to earth! Besides, it breaks my heart to have to threaten you, but I have plenty of witnesses for yesterday and the day before. Sure I was dragging a suitcase, but if you’re going to try to prove that I could have hidden him in it, lots of luck!”

He got up and walked off a way.

I said very quickly, “Please, Philippe, don’t leave me.” “I’m not leaving you.”

He stood with his back turned for a while beside a battered boat, looking at the black water of the old port streaked with unmoving lights. The sounds of the city seemed very far away. At last he asked, “What’s he like, your boss? A little homicidal around the edges?”

I shrugged my shoulders without answering.

He turned around, restless and tense with irritation, and shouted, “For Christ’s sake, I don’t know anything about it! But maybe this stiff was already in the car when you took it!”

“No, the trunk was empty when I took it. I know because I looked.”

“I see. And did you open it on the way ?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“When was the last time?”

I thought back along Number 7 and Number 6: Fontainebleau. I remembered opening the trunk to put in the suitcase I had just bought. Then I had changed my mind. “At Fontainebleau it was empty.”

“That’s a long way from here. Where did you stop after that?”

“In Joigny, at a cafe. That’s where I met that truck-driver, the one who took my violets. But it was daylight and the car was right by the door; nobody could have put that man in it then.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t open the trunk again until Cassis?”

“I’d remember it.”

“Where did you stop after Joigny?”

“At a service station near Avallon.

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