In the Shadows of Paris (The Predator Of Batignolles) by Claude Izner Read Free Book Online Page B

Grandjean, stabbed by an unknown assailant in Rue Chevreul on 21 June. The sole witness is unable to describe the killer, having only seen him…
    The large woman with the shopping baskets had come back downstairs and was complaining loudly about young people today. Joseph stood up reluctantly, and with a polite gesture offered her his seat.
    ‘Madame, allow me…’
    He pushed his way over to the platform and listened idly to a couple of servant girls chatting.
    ‘Why have we slowed down?’ the plumper of the two asked the other.
    ‘I haven’t a clue. I expect it’s those good-for-nothing students demonstrating again. It’s all very well railing against society, but who does all the work? Us, that’s who!’ exclaimed her companion, a pretty brunette, who winked brazenly at Joseph.
    ‘Are they still warring at your house, then?’ she asked her friend.
    ‘I’ll say. Madame’s husband has a mistress who wants him to leave her and understandably Madame’s afraid she’ll be out on her ear.’
    The demonstrators’ angry shouts began to crescendo.
    ‘Sparks will fly,’ the plump one said.
    ‘And at my place, too,’ retorted the brunette. ‘What with Monsieur’s saucy remarks and his straying hands…’
    A sudden jolt ended the young women’s intimate exchange. A group of students had stopped the team of three horses, and, despite the stream of invective from the driver, was now leading them into Rue de l’Échaudé. The passengers downstairs panicked and tried to leave but were blocked by a flood of people descending from the upper deck.
    ‘What’s all the fuss about?’ the brunette shouted.
    ‘It’s that cold fish Senator René Bérenger. 14 He’s got them all up in arms by denouncing their costumes at the “Quat’zarts Ball”. 15 Licentious he said they were,’ a lanky fellow announced placidly from behind his newspaper.
    ‘What’s licentious?’
    ‘Pornographic, Mademoiselle. The Guardian of Public Virtue would have done better to cover his eyes. Nothing annoys the electorate more than encroachments on its freedom to go about in a state of undress,’ he added, giving Joseph a knowing wink.
    Joseph blushed and made his way to the edge of the platform. Next to a kiosk in flames, a tram had been derailed and turned into a barricade. The boulevard was a battlefield. On one side demonstrators were sacking shops and shouting, ‘Down with Bérenger! To hell with Bérenger!’ and, on the other, the police were rolling up their capes ready to use as batons.
    With the conductor’s help, the driver fought off the assailants and regained control of his horses. The omnibus took off with a loud clatter down Rue de l’Ancienne-Comédie, only to be surrounded once more when it reached the Faculty of Medicine.
    ‘Off you get, you sightseers!’ yelled a scruffy-looking individual.
    The alarmed passengers scattered, regrouping around the statue of Paul Broca. The driver managed to unharness his horses and led them off at a trot to Carrefour de l’Odéon. Flattened against a Wallace fountain, Joseph looked on as the omnibus was pushed onto its side. Flames instantly began devouring the inside to loud cheers. A police charge dispersed the arsonists.
    Without knowing quite how he had got there, Joseph found himself hurrying along the pavement of Rue Dupuytren, muttering abuse at the blasted students, the forces of order, his bosses and the world in general. Rue Monsieur-le-Prince was still peaceful. He leant against a lamp-post to collect himself.
    ‘Is it revolution?’ he asked a carter delivering vegetables in crates.
    ‘Could be. Someone died yesterday. The mounted guards of the 4th Central Brigade killed a shop worker having a drink outside Brasserie d’Harcourt. There’s going to be trouble all right. Gee-up, off we go!’ he cried, clambering back onto his cart.
    Joseph made his way along the street to the bookbinder Pierre Andrésy’s shop. Monsieur Mori had asked him to stop off there and