The Art of Murder by Louis Shalako Read Free Book Online Page B

Babineaux. The world of business
could be cut-throat at times, yet it was also a polite world where
there was much that could never be talked about openly. The death
of Duval might have opened up an opportunity for someone else like
him. Even now, it was not the time to ask, or perhaps Babineaux was
not the right one to ask. He’d have to think on it.
    “ I wonder if you could just
write down your impressions of the people on this list. It’s
strictly confidential, purely for my own understanding. Just
whatever you are comfortable saying, n’est pas? Also, we would like
to get the fingerprints of everyone closely connected to Monsieur
Duval. As you can imagine, the studio is a mass of unidentified
prints. Have you ever been up there?”
    “ Why, certainly, Inspector.
Yes, lots of people have been in that room, all over the house in
fact, when there was a party or something big going on.”
    “ Something big?”
    “ The launch of a new
product, for example. Theo had parties for all the usual reasons,
of course.”
    “ Ah.” Gilles nodded his
understanding.
    A knock came at the door.
    “ Oh. What was today’s
meeting about?”
    “ Pardon,
Inspector?”
    “ What did you come for
today?”
    “ Oh, ah, we go over the
books once a week or so, Theo and I.”
    Gilles rose.
    “ Excuse me for a moment,
s’il vous plait?”
     
    ***
     
    While Monsieur Babineaux composed his
thoughts and worked on his list, Gilles and Rene conferred in quiet
tones in the hall.
    “ The body’s gone, and the
lab boys are pretty much done.” Rene looked very tired. “We have
statements from all the people here, none of whom saw or heard a
damned thing.”
    Deep inside, Rene was a frightened man,
and it saddened Gilles to see him that way.
    “ Very well, thank you.”
Gilles had no idea of what to say.
    “ It’s all right Gilles. We
have no evidence of foul play. If you want to hand this off, that’s
all academic to me right now.” Rene was offering him an
out.
    Just at that moment in time, Gilles saw
him as he once was, a much younger Detective Inspector Lavoie, tall
and proud, rather than a suddenly-old friend, collapsing into
himself like any street-corner derelict. As likely as not, Rene
would not come back. He was old enough to retire on half-pay, and
his recovery if he survived the next year, would be long and
tedious. Belatedly Gilles recalled Rene was only five or six years
older than him. He brushed aside the thought, for he always saw
that sort of thing as a kind of weakness, pure
narcissism.
    The least he could do was to let his
old friend go home at the end of a long and tiring day with some
dignity.
    “ In a murder, we don’t even
consider a charge unless we feel we can prove motive.”
    Rene shrugged slightly.
    “ Yes, Gilles? And you’re
saying the same thing about a suicide. Yes, I see your
point.”
    Gilles reached out and squeezed Rene’s
bicep.
    “ I am not happy.”
    “ We both know what will
ultimately happen if the wrong person gets assigned this file. It
will quickly die.”
    Maintenon nodded, the sounds of traffic
in the street down below muffled but close.
    “ But you are not happy with
it.”
    “ You always had the
instinct, Gilles. As for myself, I don’t know, maybe not so much.
But everyone claims to have loved this man. They say he never had
an enemy in the world, and that alone is a bit off. The rich…the
rich are rarely beloved.”
    “ Where is the
motive?”
    Rene smiled fondly upon hearing these
words.
    “ I agree whole-heartedly.
Why would a man like that shoot himself, still relatively young,
with a good-looking lady at his side, all that money, and quite
frankly, the man had everything he wanted. He went where he wanted,
did what he wanted. There is no suggestion of delusional thinking
on his part. So what happened?”
    “ Thank you, Rene. I wondered
if it was just me.” Rene grinned with real affection and shook his
head in derision.
    “ That’s why I called for
you, my friend.