The Dream Killer of Paris by Fabrice Bourland Read Free Book Online Page A

and then invited us to follow him.
    While the others began to climb the stairs, I stopped in front of a full-length mirror in the hall and considered my reflection. Despite all my efforts to make myself look older, my face remained as youthful as ever. It was exasperating. My bow tie and ragged moustache did nothing to improve the situation. Disappointed, I pushed my trilby more firmly on to my slicked-back hair and, frowning to make myself look sterner, caught up with the group in a few strides.
    Upstairs, a corridor ran the full width of the château, dividing it into two parts of roughly equal size. On one side, at the front of the house, were the Marquise de Brindillac’s bedroom and her daughter’s apartments; on the other, Auguste de Brindillac’s rooms, consisting of the bedroom where he had been found dead, a study and a large library. This perfectly geometric distribution was complemented by two spare bedrooms and, at the back, the two circular rooms situated in the towers. The first adjoined the Marquis’s library and he used it for his experiments. The second opened on to one of the spare bedrooms but, for reasons still unknown to me, it had been sealed.
    To help the reader visualise the layout of the château, I have appended a sketch of the first floor of Château B—, as well as a sketch of Auguste de Brindillac’s bedroom (see page 50).
    Second Lieutenant Rouzé preceded us to the door of the Marquis’s bedroom. When the door had been forced, the servant and gardener had broken the lock so now all it needed was a push. The gendarme did this extremely slowly, as if he feared that the old scientist’s body was still lying on the bed.
    The room was large. To take it all in, we had to advance a few paces into it in order to see past the area on the right-hand side of the entrance which had been turned into a bathroom with all mod cons. Pushed up against the wall, an enormous four-poster bed immediately caught the eye. Its posts, made of high-quality wood, supported large sheets of fabric on which pink, round-faced cherubs few through bucolic landscapes. From looking at the bed, neatly made under the joyously festooned canopy, the sheets and covers pulled taut without a crease, no one could have imagined the tragedy that had occurred there.
    Diagram of the first floor of Château B—

    Diagram of the Marquis de Brindillac’s bedroom
    There were a few pieces of furniture in the bedroom (a corner wardrobe, an occasional table, a bedside table and two armchairs) but, apart from a faded wall hanging and a collection of small portraits (mainly of scientists) hung near the door to the study, the room was simply decorated. Stained-glass windows cast an unusual light, creating a subdued atmosphere conducive to reflection at any time of day.
    â€˜So, it was here that it happened, was it?’ asked the superintendent, approaching the bed.
    â€˜Yes,’ replied Second Lieutenant Rouzé hoarsely. ‘Last Saturday the servant from the château informed the gendarmerie that the Marquis had been found dead in his bed. I got here shortly afterwards, at ten thirty-five. Dr Leduc had arrived before me and was in the process of examining the body.’
    â€˜Did anything strike you as strange when you entered the room?’ asked the examining magistrate.
    â€˜The dead man’s face, sir, his face! His expression was one of indescribable terror. Never could I have imagined that such an emotion was possible at the moment of death.’
    â€˜And yet,’ resumed the judge, slight disappointment in his voice, ‘your investigation hasn’t been able to determine the cause of this violent emotion.’
    â€˜That is true, sir. There was nothing to go on. I fear that it will be the same today …’
    â€˜We’ll see, we’ll see,’ cut in Fourier. ‘Did the Marquise, or anyone else in the house, notice anything out of place? Or that