Essence of Murder, page 16
On hearing this, nine out of ten senior officers would have repeated the word “poisoned”, adding an interrogative upward inflection. ‘Poisoned?’ Darac said, proving that his reactions were not always an exception to the rule.
‘Don’t ask me which poison yet but Urquelle’s body and his effects are going back to our crime lab as soon as the next of kin has completed the formal ID. She’s due here within the next few minutes, apparently.’
‘So you think that however Urquelle engaged with this possible poison, it wasn’t accidental?’
‘Statistically, accidental exposure is the most likely scenario but there’s certainly a doubt and in any case, ours is the best equipped facility to find out more.’
‘Sure.’
‘If it is poison, one thing I am sure of is that he didn’t take it consciously. A suicide doesn’t take, for instance, hydrogen cyanide and then go shopping. And I would also say that an orderly, well-lit space like Palais Masséna, especially on a none-too busy Friday morning, is no one’s idea of a toxic environment, is it? So, I’m putting Patricia and the Red Zone team on standby. And can you do the same with Raul Ormans’s forensic people?’
‘No problem but I’ll have to ask Agnès to OK it – I’m not Acting Commissaire at the moment. To be clear, Map, no one else at the store appears to have been affected?’
‘No and no other corpses in a similar condition have shown up elsewhere but one can’t be too careful where poison is concerned. If that’s what this is. When we have something more concrete, I’ll let you know immediately.’
‘Excellent. Whatever you find, it looks like we’ll be needing a breakdown of Urquelle’s movements prior to the collapse. I believe you’ve got the next of kin’s details there?’
‘Are you familiar with something called the National Police Database?’
‘Not sure. Bonbon, are you? No? Sorry Map, we’ve never heard of it.’
‘What’s with the cheeky mischievousness, Darac? Have you been spending time with Armani?’
Darac grinned. ‘As I matter of fact, I have.’
‘It shows. Just a second.’
Darac heard a muffled exchange with Suzanne and then Mpensa came back with a Menton address and phone number. Since it was a round trip of about an hour-and-a-half by road from Nice, it would have been convenient to have asked Madame Vivienne Urquelle for details of her husband’s movements at the formal ID but in such circumstances, Darac’s preferred practice was to allow next of kin as much recovery time as possible. In most murder cases, resources were stretched and time short so it was a principle he couldn’t always follow. As yet, though, there was nothing to suggest that all hell was about to break loose over the dead body of Monsieur Gérard Urquelle.
‘Thanks, Map.’ As ever, Darac’s head was teeming with possibilities. ‘Is Deanna around at the moment?’
‘Around as in working in our home lab, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thankfully she is and I’ll be able to assist her all the way. We’re so used to being overworked, it will feel strange to be able to take the proper time over things. What’s happened to all the local crims? You arrested them all or is their turn to go on holiday, or what?’
Scared of the consequences if he didn’t, Bonbon rapped three times on the side of Darac’s desk.
‘Bonbon’s got things under control, don’t worry.’
‘That’s good. We’ll report back soonest.’
‘Thanks, Map.’ Darac ended the call and tapped key #1 on the phone.
‘Poisoned?’ Bonbon said, his wiry red hair appearing to bristle at the thought. ‘I’d hate to go that way.’
‘Depends on the speed, I think. Do you remember our old friend Rocuronium? In the right dose, it can dispatch you in one second flat.’
Bonbon drew down the corners of his mouth and nodded. ‘Hmm. Might keep a stock in. Be handy if cousin Guim comes to stay again.’
Darac was chuckling as Agnès picked up.
‘Paul. What’s funny?’
‘Oh, Bonbon’s just talking about killing himself.’
The man gave the desk another three raps.
‘Yes, that is funny,’ she deadpanned. ‘So?’
‘Map’s just reported in from St Roch on the Urquelle death. For semi, read fully suspicious.’
‘Because?’
‘It seems the man was poisoned. Only seems, note. Map will have more on that later. Nevertheless, he’s suggesting we put R.O.’s team on standby.’
‘Duly authorised. I’ll ring him immediately after our call.’
‘I’d like to draft Lartou in right away, though.’
‘Ditto.’
‘He can begin looking at any CCTV footage the store may have of Urquelle’s collapse. Which he’ll be doing behind the scenes, of course, and that should please the management. Before we get to the “screw ’em!” stage, it’s better to have them on board.’
‘I taught you well,’ she said, the smile audible in her voice. ‘I’ve already been on to the store manager, one Albert Cassani, and told him about Flaco and Perand’s imminent arrival.’
‘And how did he take that?’
‘He was accommodating. Charming, even, particularly when I told them they were wearing civvies and it was just a form-filling exercise.’
‘Excellent.’
‘I’ve met Cassani at a couple of parties. Civic things. He’s dull as mud but he was very pleasant to me – pleasant, shading into hopeless infatuation, actually. My suggestion that if the store had any issues whatsoever with this thing, he should discuss them with me seemed to go down very well. So should the heat come on at some stage, I should be able to absorb any that radiates from that particular quarter.’
‘Agnès, if I didn’t know you better, I’d accuse you of using feminine wiles to produce an entirely different sort of heat in the man.’
‘Guilty! Anyway, the kindling was already smouldering. I merely blew a little air over it so it would catch. Subtly, of course.’
‘You are incorrigible! Either that, or yet again you’re taking one for the team – whichever you prefer.’
‘Admit to being either savvy or a martyr? No contest!’
Over the years, Darac had enjoyed hundreds of similar exchanges with Agnès but they were becoming increasingly bittersweet for him. It was some time ago now that she had first mentioned her intention to retire in the not too distant future. That future was coming closer all the time.
‘Quite right,’ he said, and left it there.
‘Map’s concerns mean I’d like you to check things out at the store. If it proves to be nothing, no harm will have been done; if it is a poisoning, it would be good to have you on the ground.’
‘Sure. I’ll update Flak and Perand.’ Bonbon raised a hand. ‘Oh, and now Bonbon has a reason to live, he’s signed up as well.’
‘Perfect. I’ll inform Cassani. And on a different note, Paul...’
For a moment, that note failed to sound.
‘I’m listening.’
‘Just let Frankie know I’ll be thinking of her later, will you?’
10.27 AM
As they walked through the colonnade into the lower Jean Médecin entrance of Palais Masséna, Darac found himself saying, ‘Imagine having to evacuate a place this size, Bonbon.’
‘Five huge floors? I’d rather not.’
‘Don’t worry. If this comes to a full Evac job, I’ll eat my lounge guitar.’
‘It would almost be worth it.’
Darac didn’t need the help of a sign indicating that L’Éspace Beauté was away to their left.
‘If ever there were a case for just following your nose, Bonbon.’
Bonbon sniffed. And sniffed again. ‘What is it with you Daracs? I can’t detect even a hint of it.’
‘If things get any slacker, I’ll recount some of the olfactory feats of our ancestral sheepdogs. Now they had noses.’
‘Oh, mate.’ Bonbon grinned wickedly. ‘I literally can’t wait for that.’
‘Better still, I could teach Armani a couple of Creusois folk songs on the subject. Think Volare promised more than it delivered? Wait until you hear the man grinding through the inspiring tale of Coco And The Vole.’
Bonbon muttered something comprehensible only to the earthier members of his Catalan brethren and the topic was dropped.
Once in the department, the pair joined a clientele browsing in an atmosphere that conveyed not the slightest hint of the shocking death that had taken place within the past hour. But then they spotted a coned-off section of floor about the area of a family car.
‘Where’s our man?’ Darac said. ‘And where have Flaco and Perand got to?’
‘Hello, Lieutenant.’
Bonbon’s twinkly eyes twinkled more brightly as he turned and extended his hand. ‘André. Good to see you again. This is Captain Paul Darac.’
‘Captain.’ They shook hands. ‘André Ricolfi. I’ve just said to your junior officers that I knew there was something queer about our little excitement earlier.’ He nodded toward the cones. ‘But a possible poisoning?’ He shook his head. ‘Wasn’t expecting that.’
‘I believe you were close to the man when he collapsed.’
‘Pretty close, Captain. I heard a kerfuffle behind me, turned, and saw him stagger, then hit the floor. In real distress, he was.’
‘And you didn’t have it down as a heart attack or something equally routine, I understand. Why?’
‘No, it was more as if...’ He couldn’t seem to find the mots justes.
‘Just describe how he looked.’
‘It’s bizarre this, but with one important difference, the only time I saw anyone in a state like that was on the forecourt at Foch thirty years ago – a gangster named Louis Brac. I was right there when a member of a rival outfit set him on fire.’
The pair involuntarily expressed the connection between sex and eternal damnation. ‘What was that difference?’ Bonbon asked.
‘Brac screamed his head off. Monsieur Urquelle hardly made a sound.’
‘Did you clock Urquelle at any point before he collapsed?’
‘I see what you’re getting at, Captain. No, I’m afraid I didn’t. But there should be CCTV footage of it. And of him arriving, and so on. The cameras are recording all the time.’
‘Is it contracted out, the surveillance?’
‘Company called A1 did it until recently but we were told they kept upping their charges.’
Darac shared a look with Bonbon.
‘A1, eh?’
‘You know them, gentlemen?’
‘We know them,’ Darac said, simply. ‘So what happens now on that score?’
‘Surveillance? We do it ourselves.’
Darac had mixed feelings about this. At times, surveillance companies could be very clingy with their product. But Agnès’s charm bracelet hold over store manager Albert Cassani notwithstanding, the Pal-Mas brass might be even clingier if it emerged that Urquelle had come into the store to complain about the decommissioned nuclear reactor he’d bought there on spesh.
‘What does that mean in practice, André?’
‘I’ll give you the theory first. Overnight, a couple of guys patrol the floors and monitor the screens.’ He gave a wry little laugh. ‘In practice...’
Bonbon beat him to it. ‘The guys play dominoes or chess all night, taking occasional breaks to stretch their legs?’
André nodded. ‘But you didn’t hear it here.’
‘And when the store’s open?’ Darac asked.
‘We could do with more people, to be honest, so we generally have our hands full out on the floors. Nevertheless, we try to ensure that someone’s keeping an eye on the screens. But there are inevitably gaps. ’
‘And at the time of the incident?’
‘That was a gap. And then with the brouhaha, all hands were needed here. But as I say, the cameras are always on so the footage will be there.’
‘Has anyone viewed it since?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Do you know Jean-Jacques Lartigue – “Lartou” we call him?’
‘Your crime scene co-ordination guy? Heard of him.’
‘He’ll be here any minute. If someone could just show him where set-up is, he’ll do the rest.’
‘It’s down in the basement. I’ll get Marcel to show him – Marcel Fraille – he probably knows most about it.’
‘Good, thanks.’
Feeling the familiar throb, Darac fished his mobile from his jacket pocket and glanced at the screen. A flagged message from Flaco. He read it, then angled the phone for Bonbon. It began:
I’ve got someone who wants to talk to you.
‘How do I get to the senior staffroom, André?’
‘That’s also in the basement, Captain, but at the opposite end. Take the stairs down at the back of this floor.’ He indicated the direction. ‘And then it’s the door on the right. I could take you, if you like, but I’d need to get someone to watch the coned area.’
‘No, you continue with Bonbon.’ He turned to him. ‘Stay tuned, mate.’
As he walked away, he heard Bonbon ask if any of André’s colleagues in security may have seen more. He was out of earshot by the time the reply came.
* * *
With its glass entrance door, wipe-clean surfaces and matching high-backed chairs, the senior staffroom put Darac in mind of a dayroom in a maison de retraite. Perhaps it was because his investigative juices were beginning to flow but he couldn’t help wondering if the décor was a ploy by the management: a subtle hint to the seniors that life after Pal-Mas would be a much emptier business. Association; intimation; persuasion – it was all in the retail game, wasn’t it? Not for the first time, he felt glad that his father’s successful perfumery was very much a boutique operation.
The room was deserted except for Flaco and her charge, a woman Darac Père would have described as “just a little too beautifully made-up,” She was also holding a red-flecked tissue to her left nostril. Its predecessors, Darac noticed, lay in a gaudier crumple in the bin at her feet. The bleed, therefore, appeared to be slowing, but concerned about its possible connection to the poisoning, he felt a frisson of unease as he sat next to Flaco.
‘Madame Nadine Beaumont here is prone to nosebleeds, Captain,’ she said, allaying the obvious implication. ‘She is in charge of the floor where the incident took place.’
‘I’m Paul Darac, madame. It’s clear that you are indisposed but it would be a great help to us if we could go ahead.’
‘It’s fine.’ She lowered the tissue momentarily. ‘Darac, did you say?’
‘Yes.’ He saw what was coming but there was no time for it. ‘No connection with the perfume house, I’m afraid.’
Flaco, fortunately, appeared to see the reason behind the lie.
‘Shame,’ Nadine said, cryptically and gave her right nostril a tentative dab. ‘I think it’s stopped. Excuse me.’ She examined the tissue. ‘Yes, it has, and once it stops, it’s stopped.’ She consigned the tissue to the bin. ‘It’s a nuisance but it happens sometimes when I’m upset. Silly.’
‘It’s understandable, madame. Witnessing a customer stagger and fall to the floor in distress would upset anyone. And as to reactions, trained police officers have been known to faint at the sight of blood.’
‘You’re very kind but I need to say that...’
She went no further as Darac’s mobile rang.
‘Excuse me. Perand?’
‘Lartou’s arrived, chief. André’s detailed a Marcel Fraille to look after him.’
‘Good. Listen, I may need a gatekeeper here. Get down to the senior staffroom as soon as you can, will you?’
‘Alright.’
‘That’s it.’ He returned his attention to Nadine. ‘So, madame, Officer Flaco here reports you have something important to tell me.’
‘Yes.’ She exhaled deeply, anxious, it was obvious, at the prospect of telling her story. ‘First, I was going to say that I didn’t actually see the dead man collapse. I was involved in something on the top floor when it happened. The top floor rear annexe, in fact. One may as well be in Outer Mongolia up there. We didn’t know anything about it.’
‘So it was hearing about the death later that upset you?’
‘No. Well, yes, in a way.’ As if maintaining eye contact might derail the process, Nadine’s gaze fell on the row of empty chairs opposite. ‘It was what happened before then. A new girl started with us today. She was from somewhere in Eastern Europe originally, I think. Zena. Zena Bairault.’
‘Spell her surname, madame?’ Flaco said, and wrote down the name in her notebook.
‘She mentioned where she was from?’ Darac said.
‘No, it was her accent. Her French itself is exceptional. In fact, she’s an exceptional girl in general. Very bright. Not conventionally attractive, I suppose you would say, but blessed with the most winning personality.’ Nadine seemed far away, suddenly. ‘Different from my other girls, somehow. She was tasked with promoting this week’s featured fragrance, Chanson de Minuit. We call what she was doing “sassing”– getting the customer to stand and sniff the fragrance while giving them three good reasons to buy it. Chanson is unisex. Between us, it’s rather a difficult sell at the moment. In time, I believe it will catch on but we have sold very little to date.’
From Stop and Search, to Stand and Sniff, Darac knew a great deal about sassing but he didn’t want to slow Nadine’s narrative.
‘Interesting. Please continue, madame.’
Nadine went on to describe Zena’s engagement with Gérard Urquelle exactly as she had witnessed it. At its conclusion, she said, ‘I realise it looks bad. But Zena isn’t some terrible criminal, Captain. She’s a wonderful young woman. Really, she is.’
Darac shared a look with Flaco that suggested a different interpretation. ‘We need to speed things up now, Madame Beaumont. Considerably. Where is this Zena Bairault at this moment?’
