The Provence Puzzle: An Inspector Damiot Mystery(61)
“Don’t know what I can tell you, M’sieur. I’ve already answered all their questions. The local gendarmes have been here many times. And there was another one they brought from Arles…”
“Inspector Bardou?”
“He’s the one! Asked all the same questions.”
“I may ask the same ones again.”
She shrugged.
Damiot realized that she couldn’t be more than forty. Faded blond hair. Traces of beauty that must have been passed on to the daughter. Her body, under a water-spattered apron and old housedress, was thin.
She was aware of his inspection, smoothing her hair as she circled the table on the other side of the lantern to face him again.
“I believe your daughter was employed at the H?tel Courville as femme de chambre…”
“Got the job for her myself, hoping to keep her off the streets. I work in the kitchen.”
“And your husband?”
“Does odd jobs, when he can find any.”
“These are your grandchildren?”
“The poor loves!” She glanced down at them with affection. “Lisette was their mother, but they’ll never know their fathers. Looking at them, so different from each other, I’d say that one day they’ll ask questions. Which I’ll never be able to answer…”
He saw that the girl had straight blond hair, but the boy’s head was covered with auburn curls.
“Their mother was a natural blonde, like me!”
“Since you are employed at the H?tel Courville, you must’ve been aware of your daughter’s relationships with the other employees…”
She stiffened slightly. “What do you mean by that?”
“Was there anyone on the staff who was annoying your daughter? Perhaps even threatening her?”
“Well…” Relaxing slightly. “There were several of the younger men, now and again, who got too friendly, but Lisette could handle them.”
“Was there any special man she didn’t like?”
“Lisette liked everybody! I told her many times there were some she shouldn’t trust.”
“Could there have been one man who was so annoying that she would try to find a job elsewhere?”
“She never looked for another job!”
“A few weeks before her death she went to see Madame Bouchard at the Auberge and asked if there might be an opening for a femme de chambre. Said she wanted to leave the H?tel Courville.”
“She never told me!”
“Unfortunately, Madame Bouchard had nothing for her.”
She frowned. “Why would Lisette do a thing like that?”
“Do you know if there is anyone on the hotel staff who has any connection with the city of Toulon?”
“Toulon?”
“Either worked there or perhaps does business with some company there? Such as hotel supplies…”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never heard anyone mention Toulon.”
“Did your daughter ever say anything about a young farmer named Savord?”
“Achille! Such a fine young man. Lisette brought him home many times. He was her favorite. She even talked of marrying him! And I, for one, was hoping she would. They discussed the fact that she already had two kids, but he promised to treat them like his own. Told me he wanted three more.”
“What’s he like? Achille Savord…”
“A nice man. Never quarreling or nasty. And he loves both these babies. Whenever he came here he brought them toys and, if Lisette wasn’t ready to leave, he would sit on the floor and play with them. Achille would have made my daughter a good husband! And, of course, one day he’s going to inherit his father’s farm. I kept telling her to marry him but she wanted to wait a while.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Perhaps if she’d listened to me she would be alive…”
“Thank you for answering my questions, Madame.” He turned to leave.
She followed him. “That’s all you’re going to ask?”
“For the moment.” Opening the door. “Good day, Madame.”
“M’sieur…” She closed the door behind him.
Making his way carefully over the slippery cobbles, Damiot was disgusted by the suffocating smell of poverty. He knew many such bleak alleys in Paris. Only one thing could bloom in such a foul place. The dark flower of death…
As he walked toward rue Woodrow Wilson, he wished that he had asked Madame Jarlaud where he could find Achille Savord.
Blanche Carmet should know! She had called the young farmer “très gentil.”
Some other questions he would like to ask Blanche.
Prostitutes knew everything about their neighbors, as well as their customers…
He waited in the middle of the perfume-scented room until he heard footsteps coming downstairs, and turned to see the same pink kimono looming in the dim hall. It seemed to float out of the darkness into the rosy light of the salon.
Blanche was smiling. “You did come back.”
“Sorry to disturb you. Madame said you were with someone.”
“He’ll wait. Can’t you sit down?”
“This shouldn’t take long. You told me yesterday you knew that young farmer, Savord.”