the … the defeat of your Sixth Army at Stalingrad on the third of this month. Not all were raped, you understand.’
‘Robbed of their handbags and papers?’
‘Yes. Some were completely or only partly stripped before …’
‘The hair?’
This one would know all about such things from that other war. ‘It was first hacked off some of them before the beating. With others, they were beaten and then it was cut off, and since there is a market for it, the hair was probably stolen and sold.’
‘But not all lost their hair?’
‘Not all. With this one, perhaps there wasn’t time. Punishment, yes, but not continued to that point.’
Though they were all too aware of blackout crime, Louis and he hadn’t fully realized the severity of what was now going on, but with so many victims, how could they possibly interview enough to get a clear picture of things? ‘Their wedding rings?’ he asked.
Had the detective been defeated by the thought of so many? ‘The rings, ah oui , from those who were wearing them.’
‘Meaning that some had deliberately removed them before the evening out, eh? Were all of them married to absent POWs?’
‘Not all. Those whose fiancés are prisoners of war did not have such rings to wear, unless the engagement one.’
Which few couples could afford or even give a thought to. ‘But fiancées of POWs have also been targeted?’
‘That is correct, at least in so far as we here at the Hôtel-Dieu are aware.’
‘And not others? Single girls, unhappily married nonmilitary wives, those of veterans from that other war or those that simply need the money to feed the kids?’
‘Occasionally but perhaps as mistakes. Most of the victims we get are wives of prisoners of war or fiancées of them.’
And targeted, but everyone would be saying the streets were unsafe at night and would be avoiding them if possible. ‘Okay. Now tell me about that fingernail.’
‘Lodged in the upper right hip. The nail must have been torn or cracked beforehand. Tweezers were used to remove it. There’s her blood, of course, and skin, but also some kind of grease.’
A torn, folded corner of newsprint yielded its little treasure. The nail was a good centimetre-and-a-half along the curve, and from two to three millimetres at its widest. The middle right finger, and dirty. Big hands too—a big gut, eh? wondered Kohler but said, ‘ Bon . Now tell me why that door was locked and you had to ask the matron for the key?’
Would this one miss nothing? ‘The press.’
‘What do you mean “The press”?’
‘Inspector, let’s go into the corridor. They came. Two of them, you understand.’
‘I’m trying to.’
Was there nothing for it but to reveal what had happened? ‘They photographed her late last night.’
‘They couldn’t have, not without help.’
Lachance would just have to admit to having failed to foresee such a possibility. ‘One of the nursing assistants was bribed, Inspector. Two thousand francs. The girl tried to deny it, of course, and has been dismissed. She’ll never get another job in this or any hospital.’
But others would have been bribed and Mailloux set up to take the fall. ‘Okay. Now tell me what photos were taken.’
‘The back and the front.’
‘Then watch her closely. If she kills herself, I’ll have you up for murder.’
‘I wasn’t even on duty when the press got here at three fifteen last night. I wasn’t even getting out of bed so that I could catch the métro to work at five a.m. I live in Montrouge.’
And not far from the Porte d’Orléans, but one never offered such information these days. At the very least, one waited to be asked. Mailloux damned well knew he had been set up but it would be best to go easy. ‘Which paper?’
‘Le Matin.’
And but one of the dailies, all of which were collaborationist and, with varying degrees, loved to ridicule segments of the populace and to show the citizenry what animals they harboured and that their