Gently French by Alan Hunter Read Free Book Online

hawthorn hedges. I followed it. It led to a stile beyond which was a narrow lane. On each side of the lane were fields of green crops, bounded by hedgerows and mature woodlands. Here and there were glimpses of pantile; a long way off stood a sad church-tower. It all basked sleepily in afternoon sunlight and whiffs of fragrance from the hawthorns.
    But where was Mimi?
    I mounted the stile, intending to continue down the lane. Not necessary. As I straddled the stile, a figure came into view ahead. It had to be Mimi. At a hundred yards range you could feel the vibrations beginning. Seeing me, she hesitated, but then came on. I settled on the stile and waited.
    ‘Madame Deslauriers?’
    ‘Yes, okay?’
    The sun wasn’t sunnier than the smile she gave me. She had come swinging up to the stile, her bag dangling, and had halted in a playful, swayed stance. Her hair was a warm straw blonde and her eyes a startling emerald green; her features had that majestic, sleeping, symmetry one sometimes finds in Greek marbles.
    ‘Who are you – shall I guess?’
    ‘I’m a policeman.’
    ‘Oh yes, but there are policemen and policemen, huh?’
    ‘My name is Gently. Chief Superintendent.’
    ‘A famous one, yes. That is what I was guessing.’
    She dredged up a throaty little laugh. To describe her voice as husky was a simplification. It had an ecstatic, caressing quality that seemed to go straight to the base of your spine.
    ‘You are famous, aren’t you?’
    ‘You seem to have heard of me.’
    ‘But no, it is just guessing. Poor Freddy now, he would have heard of you. But the policemen were in his line of business.’
    ‘Is business how you thought of it?’
    She made a mouth, and dimpled. ‘That’s the way it goes, my friend. Cops and robbers. Freddy was a robber. At least you must agree he had talent for it.’
    ‘That didn’t help him in the end.’
    ‘No. But I think poor Freddy had got careless. Going out to meet a little rat like Rampant, and at such a place. It wasn’t wise.’
    ‘Didn’t you try to dissuade him?’
    ‘How could I? Freddy didn’t tell me his affairs.’
    ‘Not that Rampant was making trouble?’
    Her eyes widened. ‘But no! He told me nothing at all. Freddy was a lawyer, you understand? Perhaps that was why he was such a good crook. He told people only what they needed to know, then the policemen can get nothing out of them. And I, what did I need to know? I am just his woman, that’s all. He would say, It has been a good week, we have cleared so-and-so, you can read about it in this paper. Okay?’
    ‘And you didn’t want to know more?’
    ‘Ha, ha. Why should I be interested in crookery? Do you think I am a crook?’
    ‘You have been associating with one.’
    ‘No, Monsieur. Just with a man.’
    Well, it was believable. I eyed her clinically. Not only the face was borrowed from Praxiteles. With a body as regal as that one might not feel the need for additional excitements.
    ‘Were you fond of Quarles?’
    She swirled her hair. ‘He was a man of great
savoir faire
, Freddy. He could talk about this, about that. It did not matter what company he was in.’
    ‘But you were fond of him.’
    ‘He was fun to be with.’
    ‘That isn’t really answering the question.’
    She warmed her smile for me. ‘Perhaps I don’t like the question. So perhaps I’m not going to give you an answer.’
    ‘Then I’ll draw my own conclusion. You weren’t fond of him.’
    She pouted prettily. ‘Perhaps, I said. Maybe I don’t know myself, exactly. That sometimes happens to one, huh?’
    ‘At least, you’re not grief-stricken.’
    ‘I am sad, oh yes. After all, we had been together three years. But grief-stricken, no. I have had one big grief, and after that—’ She gestured. ‘So say I am sad.’
    ‘Or even less than that?’
    Her eyes narrowed slightly. Then she thrust her bag at me.
    ‘Here – hold this! It is time I permitted myself a cigarette.’
    Which brought us closer: I sitting on