Nothing to Fear, page 12
Charl's expression changed slightly, and she thought he might actually be considering her words.
"You are not even the French police," he protested.
Juliette sighed. He was still being stubborn and uncooperative.
"We’re the FBI," she said, her voice still firm. "And if you won’t agree to being questioned here, we are going to take you in." She said the last part in English for Wyatt’s benefit.
Wyatt nodded, and he tightened his grip on Charl's arm.
“Come this way,” he said.
"Alright, alright. I don’t want to go anywhere with you. I’ll cooperate.” With the threat on the verge of being carried out, she saw that Charl was now reconsidering the wisdom of his actions. “But what if I tell you and you still don't like the answers? Why are you picking on me at all?" he demanded.
Juliette could see clearly that he didn't trust the police.
"Unfortunately we do have a complaint against you already. You tried to attack a woman."
His eyes widened. "That woman from yesterday? She was trying to take money from my hat. She was a thief. All I did was warn her off. I am a performer and the money I make is mine! She tried to grab a handful of euro notes, right from out of my collection!" He glared at her. "Where were the police then? Where were you when my money was being stolen? You were nowhere! You don't want to help us. You just want to bully us!" He raised his voice, glancing back at the other performers, who were still gathered in an angry group.
That was a different story from what Juliette had expected. Was this man just thinking on his feet to save himself, or was he telling the truth? She didn't know, but she did know the alibi for the time of the crimes would provide the answer.
"Your movements yesterday?"
"I was performing, right here in the square."
"Until when?" Juliette pressured him. After he'd finished, when the crowds were thinning, was exactly when this crime had most likely occurred. That was now what she needed to check.
"Until nine," he said. "At nine, I left the square."
Katarina had been murdered at around quarter to ten. So his movements after leaving the square were important.
"And then where did you go?"
"I went home via the Metro. I live on the outskirts of Paris. The Metro station takes me straight to my front door, almost. I arrived home at half-past nine. I then went to a bistro across the road from my apartment block and I had dinner there. I saw a few friends, which I had arranged earlier. I can prove I was there."
Juliette nodded. "We need that proof."
"My Metro pass. I can show you the trip. I can show you the messages I sent to my friends, to meet them at the bistro. The barman knows me. The waitresses, too."
Now, at last, he was cooperating and Juliette felt glad. Finally, they'd made some progress. It seemed like this suspect could be ruled out, but she wasn't letting him go until she had confirmed that alibi. And luckily, their tech expert would be able to do that quickly.
"I need you to wait," she said.
She took screen shots with her own phone, of the evidence he'd given her on his phone. Then, quickly, she messaged Sierra.
"We have an alibi that needs to be confirmed, by making a few calls and checking a few transactions. Here are the screen shots. Can you do it?"
"Sure," Sierra messaged back.
Meanwhile, Charl was starting to complain again, pulling away from Wyatt, who was holding him firm, with a frown on his face.
"You can't go yet," he said. "We need to get proper confirmation. Until then you're still a suspect."
"I am an innocent man and this is police abuse!" he shouted.
Juliette turned back to him, trying to keep as calm as possible.
"It's not abuse. We can't let you go until the alibi is confirmed. The woman who's working on it is very fast and I'm sure she'll do it in a few minutes. Please, will you be patient and continue to cooperate with us for that time?"
"Alright," he said, sounding resentful but calmer, and she saw that her logic had gotten through to him.
Juliette was relieved. She'd been concerned about the situation escalating. But now, she thought, they could get through this without any further trouble.
Until she looked over her shoulder, and saw that the opposite had happened.
A growing crowd of performers was now encircling them. She heard irate shouts from the musicians, the mime artists, the acrobats, the artistically painted statues. Someone threw an empty can of soda and it clattered down at her feet.
“We have heard a rumor you want to shut us down! That you are going to take us off the streets because of what has happened!”
That rumor was entirely correct. They had been considering that. Someone at the police station must have heard it, and perhaps passed it on to one of the performers, and word had traveled fast. But Juliette now saw it would be a terrible idea. It would, as Lucien had said, cause riots.
In fact, it already was.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Thinking quickly, Juliette turned to the colorful crowd, hoping to calm the situation down, but the woman in front, a tall, long-limbed woman in a bright harlequin costume, was shaking her fists violently.
"You are not even the French police! What right do you have to try to oppress us and tell us what to do?"
"We are working with the French police."
“You are forcing the police to take us off the streets?”
As Juliette took a breath, not sure how to answer this, she saw Lucien hurrying toward her, his face anxious.
“What is happening here?” he asked. “Calm down, people!”
"Why should we listen?" one of the performers shouted. "You are here to interfere with our work, to cause problems, to shut us down for no reason! We are innocent."
The anger was palpable. Juliette was impressed that Lucien remained cool-headed.
He murmured to Juliette and Wyatt, “We cannot shut the performers down. Trying to clear the city will cause riots. Our French people are passionate, and they protest quickly when they feel wronged. But perhaps what we can do is ask them to help us.”
Juliette and Wyatt nodded in approval at that. It was definitely the wisest choice. They didn’t want more trouble in this city, or police having to be deployed for other reasons.
Turning to the angry group, Lucien said, "Your livelihoods are not at risk. You will not be closed down. But we are going to be policing these areas very closely for the next few days. The criminal committing the murders in these arrondissements might be posing as a street performer."
There was a general murmur of disbelief.
"How could he do that?" the woman demanded.
"Easy. He could simply set up shop, and put on a costume to make sure people didn't realize his true identity," Lucien said. "After all, you all know about people who perform illegally, don't you? I know you all dislike the police checks, but imagine if the checks caught the criminal?"
There was silence. Juliette could see all the performers were considering these words.
"I don't know everyone," the woman said, "but I know a lot of the people who perform in these areas. We are - we are like a community. And if I see someone I don't know, I am aware of them."
"I also do the same," another man, dressed as a clown, said. "I know most of the others well. Occasionally I see a stranger and that is also, for me, a reason to watch them."
"You can help us," Juliette said, glancing at Lucien.
Juliette could see now that if the performers got angry, it would work in the killer's favor. It would divide the police and cause a distraction. That, they couldn't afford.
But working with the street performer community, alerting them to the dangers, asking them to help - well, that might just flush Goldenface out.
"If we find him, we can stop this killer," Lucien continued. "So right now, you can help us. You are a community, and you know each other."
"Yes," a mime artist dressed all in white, with a masklike face, said. "We do know each other, and we are like a family. We look out for each other and support each other."
"So help us then. You can help us."
"How?" a man in a spangled gold jumpsuit, queried.
Juliette stepped in, joining the conversation.
"We are looking for someone who might be posing as a performer, but who's most likely a stranger. He might have some skill, though – a musician, a juggler, a mime artist. He wears black gloves. And he has spent time in New York recently. This is what we know so far. What we're trying our best to do, is to stop more women from being murdered. Whatever that takes, we have to find this killer."
Now she could see that the street performers were starting to understand the seriousness of the situation.
"He might be hiding among you, pretending to be one of you. Are you going to protect a person like this, who's placing everyone's livelihood at risk?" Lucien asked.
“What if he kills your sister? Your daughter?” Juliette asked.
Wyatt was holding onto Charl Dupont's arm, firmly but without aggression, quietly restraining him while Juliette and Lucien spoke to the unhappy street performers.
Juliette was surprised. For the very first time it felt as if the three of them were working together. She didn't know how it had happened. Perhaps, in the past few hours, they'd been able to put their differences and resentment aside and find common ground in their pursuit of this killer. She hoped so. Because she knew, for a fact, it would take every one of them to catch this man who'd evaded the top level FBI teams in New York.
The street performers listened, and one by one they nodded, understanding that this was important and that they had a responsibility to help.
"Please, help us find this man. If he's hiding among you, you need to expose him, because he's putting all of your livelihoods at stake."
The acrobat in a shimmering blue outfit, her hair drawn back in a braid, spoke first.
"I understand how serious this is, and I will volunteer to help. I have friends in many different areas. I will put the word out and ask them to keep alert and look for strangers."
"I will do the same," another one agreed. "But I want you to promise you will not take us off the street. This is a fine Friday in spring. To have to stay home tonight will affect us badly, especially seeing that tomorrow it is supposed to rain."
Juliette nodded.
"Please, everyone, I know this is a difficult situation for you. We won't remove you from the streets, but we need you to be our eyes and ears. The sooner we can catch this man, the sooner we can all get back to normal. We need to do this for everyone's safety. We understand that this is not an easy situation, but if you can help us by providing information, then we can all get back to our lives, sooner rather than later."
The performers nodded, clearly understanding the gravity of the situation. Juliette felt relief wash over her. It seemed like the street performers were really on board with helping them.
“There will be more police around, but I don’t want you to feel threatened. They are going to be in this area to support us and look for the killer,” Lucien explained. “We are deploying all the police we have available in this search. If you see anything, then call the emergency hotline, or else grab the nearest police officer and tell him what you have noticed.”
"We understand," one of the women said, firmly. "We will help however we can."
Juliette wondered if this might mean a big break for the case. With street performers all over Paris as their lookouts, and extra police deployed to all the major tourist hotspots and patrolling the outlying areas, they might just get the break they needed. This could be the teamwork that would catch the killer.
Lucien read out the emergency hotline number for the police department. And then, the performers dispersed around the square, some begrudgingly, others with a newfound respect and understanding.
Juliette and Lucien watched as the crowd slowly disappeared.
"Well, I think that had a good result," Juliette said.
Lucien nodded.
"Yes. It did. I think we found a way to get the street performers to cooperate, and that could be very helpful in our investigation. If they are on our side, we might just be able to find Goldenface before he strikes again."
Wyatt’s phone rang, and quickly, he answered it. Then he turned to Charl, letting him go.
"Charl Dupont, we've checked your alibi and it's all good. Thank you for cooperating."
Still looking grumpy, and rubbing his arms, Charl turned and walked away.
Juliette sighed. She felt as if they had made a lot of progress, but she was still worried that they were missing something. That there was an aspect of this case that she wasn't seeing, and if she didn't work out what it was, it would come back to bite her. A little voice in the back of her mind was whispering a warning, and she’d learned to trust that voice over the years.
"Is something bothering you?" Lucien asked.
Grimacing, Juliette nodded.
"We've got all the street performers on board, we are going to patrol these areas, we're going to keep a lookout for him. But, when we were talking to the performers about areas, about the different parts of Paris, it was like a light flickered on in my brain, but it wasn’t there for long enough to let me see it. I don't know what it is that I'm missing, but I need to figure it out."
Lucien looked at her, his gaze assessing.
"You have good instincts," he said, the compliment causing her to blink in surprise.
"Thank you," she said.
"If you think something is missing, it probably is, and we need to find out what. And fast." He checked his watch. "Already it is afternoon. We only have a few more hours before he might be gearing up to kill again."
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Juliette nodded. She agreed with Lucien, and felt deeply worried by how fast the time was passing. They were still too far behind him. How could they catch up?
She needed some head space, a chance to get her thoughts in order. And she couldn't do it here, in this crowded square, at a moment's notice. Abruptly, she realized what she needed.
She needed to do what she always did when a tough case or problem was weighing on her mind. That was to walk, and let it simmer in her subconscious.
If she did this here, her mind might offer a solution. She didn't have a lot of time, but she could try.
"Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll see if I can work out what it is," she said. Turning, she strode away.
The pressure of needing to find a solution weighed on her mind as Juliette headed out of the square and onto a side street, which at this hour was busy with pedestrians and cars, moving slowly and weaving around each other in the narrow space.
The killer might have walked this way, down this very road. This was his hunting ground and she knew he'd scoped it out well.
What had he been thinking as he walked? How was he committing these crimes? Was he considering this alleyway as the place to take his next victim? Or that one ahead?
She frowned, realizing what was at stake, and what impact a third murder might have on the case. It would be a huge blow. It might even be a death blow. This task force was new, and they needed to get results.
Juliette usually loved walking. She settled into a rhythm and went into her own head, and her subconscious mind always seemed to get as much exercise as her legs did.
Now, as she walked, she tried to put her worries aside and let her subconscious do the job it needed to do.
He was hiding in plain sight, perhaps as a street performer. They'd asked the other performers, the musicians, and entertainers, to keep an eye out for him, but nobody had seen him so far - or if they had, they weren't saying.
Why was that? What were they not seeing here?
Her boots trod the ground as she veered away from the main street, heading down the second of the alleyways that had caught her eye. Down here looked exactly like a place where he might hide out and lie in wait for a new victim. It was close to a tourist hub, yet deserted.
What had made her turn down here, though? It was an uninviting place. Wet, with a puddle of water running down the gutter in the middle, with high walls that even now in the daytime seemed to swallow the light.
"I walked down here because I was trying to put myself in his shoes. Trying to think how he could have done this. But why would Claudette have walked into a place like this?" she said aloud. "Why would Katarina have walked in here? Why is nobody seeing him?
She remembered that mime artist in the square - he'd had an excellent and surprising performance. He'd wrapped himself in a curtain of white, and had then appeared to grow magically taller, swaying like a ghost coming to life. When the curtain had opened, he'd been standing normally, and smiling. She thought that he must have had some kind of collapsible platform that he'd used to achieve this very captivating illusion.
So what if this killer had a disguise, too? A black cloak or a black drape that he could wrap around himself or hide behind so that he looked like nothing more than a discarded trash bag, just a featureless dark object in the shadows?
That would work and it would tie in with the street performer ethos.
That meant he would reveal himself to his victim when the time was right. He'd step up, out of that concealment, and he'd do something to attract their attention and lure them in.
He must look like a performer, or like something he wasn't. But now at last, she thought she'd gotten deeper into his mind, and figured out his MO. Conceal, then reveal, then lure. All done from the cover of a deserted alleyway to make certain nobody else saw.
That was what they’d been missing. They’d thought he’d started out in plain view and had somehow lured or dragged his victims into the alleyways. But now, she was realizing, he must have hidden in the alleys all along, and only shown himself when the time was right and a susceptible person had walked past.
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