The Montmartre Investigation by Claude Izner Read Free Book Online

blouse…but his fantasy was ruined by the extremely disagreeable smell emanating from the red silk. What had that bizarre character been telling him? He’d mentioned a sheepfold, a street called ‘croule’ something or other, a dog, goats, lions, a real muddle, but that smell…There was no doubt, it was the smell of goat. And the headed notepaper from the shop – was that just a coincidence? And why had Monsieur Mori run off like that at the sight of the shoe, as if he had had the devil at his heels?
    â€˜Say what you like, it’s not normal. I’ll note it all down; it might come in handy…’
    Just as he picked up his notebook, a ferocious voice thundered: ‘My pet! The five minutes are up! Your soup is getting cold!’

Chapter 3
    Friday 13 November
    The bookshop was still slumbering, bathed in a gloomy half-light. A wisp of steam rose from a cup that had been left beside the bust of Molière. Kenji had spread a green cloth over the centre table and was busily arranging the wicker chairs that Jojo had fetched from the back of the shop. The silence was broken by the occasional rumble of a carriage on Rue des Saints-Pères.
    â€˜I can’t see a thing. Turn the lights up, will you, Joseph,’ said Victor, yawning.
    He tottered down the stairs. He should have resisted the urge to go back to bed after returning from Tasha’s at dawn. He felt about as refreshed as a drunk nursing a hangover. He narrowly avoided colliding with Kenji.
    â€˜What are you doing here? What about the quarantine?’
    â€˜The ship is ready to weigh anchor. Dr Reynaud has given me a clean bill of health.’
    â€˜And you have organised a party to celebrate this new freedom?’
    â€˜May I remind you that we are receiving the Friends of Old Paris? Monsieur Anatole France said he would be coming. Why are you waving your arms about like that, Joseph?’
    â€˜It’s the battleaxe, Boss! I mean…the Comtesse de Salignac.’
    Joseph indicated a haughty woman wrapped in a large, floral cape and wearing a stern expression who was standing outside the shop, waiting for someone to deign to let her in, which Kenji hurriedly did.
    â€˜Not a moment too soon. I was beginning to believe you intended leaving me out there to freeze. It would appear you are opening late today. I see you have returned from your travels, Monsieur Mori.’
    â€˜Yes, I…How may we be of service, my dear lady?’
    The sound of the telephone ringing took Victor away.
    â€˜I want three copies of Georges de Peyrebrune’s latest book, Giselle, which Charpentier and Fasquelle are about to bring out. First editions, if possible.’
    While Kenji went over to his desk, Joseph turned his back on the Comtesse and picked up the newspaper he had bought on his way to work.
    â€˜If you had a modicum of manners, young man, you would offer me a seat on one of those numerous chairs. Unless of course they are merely for show,’ said the Comtesse.
    Jojo dropped the newspaper with a start, and it fell open on the floor. Victor, having hung up the receiver, was hurriedly pulling up a chair for the Comtesse. Ignoring his gesture, she extracted a lorgnette from her reticule, bent down and began reading an article out loud:
    â€˜Macabre dawn discovery. A young woman was found strangled, her face disfigured by acid, lying at Killer’s Crossing, between Boulevard Montmartre and Boulevard Poissonière. She was wearing…’
    â€˜These rags are sickening!’ cried the Comtesse, standing bolt upright. ‘Gore is all that interests them! If it isn’t train crashes and executions, it’s murder! And it is contaminating our literature. This article is as grotesque as the latest novel of Monsieur Huysmans!’
    â€˜Are you referring to The Damned? ’ Victor asked.
    â€˜I am indeed. Monsieur Huysmans might one day regret having written it. Many of his admirers, Monsieur