Death at the Clos du Lac

CHAPTER TWELVE

She stared at him. ‘You’re suggesting he left deliberately?’ Her face flushed quickly and she looked alarmed at the idea.

‘No. I’m not. But he was a trained security man, wasn’t he?’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I was in the army in a previous life. And now I’m a cop. I know the type.’

‘I see. Well, he was a naval policeman until he suffered a back injury in training. He was transferred to other duties. Still security but … onshore.’

‘Other duties?’

‘I can’t talk about that. You’ll have to take my word for it.’

‘So he was still serving?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you?’

A brief hesitation, then, ‘Yes. Me, too.’

‘You were engaged here because you were in the military?’

‘Yes. Nobody told us why — only that it was important work.’ She gave a lift of her shoulders. ‘I was thinking of going into civilian nursing, anyway. It seemed a good move to make, for the experience.’

‘What about André?’

‘He arrived one day not long after one of the patients went missing. You’ve heard of closing the door after the horse has gone? Well, that’s what it was.’

Rocco nodded. Standard military practice the world over. Most armies ran training courses in it — or should have.

‘Was he armed?’

‘Yes. He was sent here to improve security. When a couple of new patients were checked in and they couldn’t get a reliable guard, he was asked to stay on.’ Her eyes misted up, and Rocco guessed that it probably hadn’t been a hard decision for Paulus to make. She was an attractive woman to be around. ‘Best time I ever had, meeting him.’ She wiped angrily at her face and looked at the ceiling.

There was a short silence, and Rocco wondered at the kind of work that could get a military-trained guard killed and frighten his lover into silence. What made this place so important that the Internal Security Directorate should assign a military cop to guard the doors?

Was it to keep people out … or to keep them in?

‘You’re saying that André was conscientious, never cut his duties?’

‘No, he never did.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I know what you’re thinking — and I don’t blame you. But we never compromised our work and he wouldn’t have walked away willingly. He wasn’t like that.’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Some time after two this morning — ten past or so.’

‘You sound fairly sure. Was he here in the building?’

This time the blush was nothing to do with anger. She looked away and said, ‘He was with me.’

‘Upstairs?’

‘Yes. I … I fell asleep … and he went off to do his rounds.’

So, they’d been having a little private time when everything was quiet. Rocco couldn’t fault that. For every soldier the world over, the credo was the same: when things were quiet and under control, you catnapped, ate or relaxed, because one thing was certain — it never stayed that way for long.

‘Did he know anything about the patients … about Ardois, for instance?’

‘You know the name? Who told you that? It’s cla—’ She stopped speaking, eyes wide.

‘Classified? Is that what you were going to say?’

‘No.’

‘I think you were. You should know that now I have a name, I can start asking questions. You might as well tell me, save us both a lot of time.’

‘Really? Will that help André? Will it bring him back?’

‘No. I’m afraid it won’t do that. But if I can find out why he was taken away and killed, why Ardois was murdered, it will help shift any element of blame away from André. Why was Ardois here?’

A few seconds went by, then she gave a small sigh. ‘André didn’t know anything about him, only that he wasn’t really ill. Anybody could see that.’

‘So why was he here?’

‘I have no idea. All I do know is Ardois wasn’t his real name. It was a file name, to be used while he was a resident here. Everybody has one; it comes with them. When they move on the file name is destroyed and they’re given a fresh one. I’ve no idea why — something to do with confidentiality, I suppose.’

‘Does that happen a lot?’

‘Over the past year, probably four times.’

Four patients moved in and out of a small government-controlled facility, all with names that weren’t their own. It sounded improbable, but Rocco had heard of stranger things.

‘Do you know his real name?’

‘No. They don’t tell us. But I heard Drucker mention it once when he was on the phone.’ She frowned, trying to remember it. ‘Sorry — it’s gone. If it comes back I’ll let you know. Other than that, all I have is their current medical regime and background notes in case of emergencies.’

‘They’re all on a regime?’ Alix asked.

She gave a wry smile. ‘If you can call it that. They’re on various medications, some stronger than others. Mostly it’s sedatives, to keep them calm.’

‘To shut them up, you mean? Keep them under control?’

‘Yes. Once they’re down, they don’t move.’

Not quite the case with Stefan, Rocco thought, and asked her about him.

She pulled a face. ‘Stefan’s different.’

‘How?’

‘He’s highly manipulative, very clever and loves to play games. He pretends to swallow his pills, but doesn’t always do it. Then he wanders the corridors at night, poking around. But he’s harmless.’ She looked at Rocco and explained, ‘I know a bit of his history. He’s a genuine case. He had a series of nervous breakdowns and his family used their influence to get him in here and away from outside pressures. His family has connections. He’s not like the others.’

‘Did he tell you that?’ In Rocco’s experience, serial manipulators never dropped the habit. Like habitual criminals, it was in their blood. Stefan had even been able to work his magic on him for a short while.

‘Yes.’ She looked doubtful. ‘I shouldn’t have believed him, should I?’

Alix glanced at Rocco and he nodded. There was really only one main question to ask.

‘You said he’s not like the others,’ she said, and placed a gentle hand on Dion’s. ‘How are they different? The dead man, for example. It won’t go any further, I promise.’

Dion hesitated, then shook her head angrily. A teardrop flew from one cheek and she brushed a hand down her face, smearing her make-up. ‘It doesn’t matter now, does it? They’ve gone. But André didn’t kill him. You have to believe me. He just wouldn’t.’

‘We believe you,’ Rocco said. He doubted a military man like Paulus would have chosen anything so elaborate; if soldiers decided to kill, it was usually short, sharp and brutal. He changed tack to lower the tempo. ‘Let’s go back to last night. Did you see or hear anything?’

‘Like what?’

‘Cars going by … voices … a knock at the door?’

‘No. It’s always so quiet here. We never hear anything.’

‘What about the patients? Have they said anything about last night?’

‘Not to me. Stefan said he’d talked to a nice man, though. I thought he was imagining things. He does that a lot. Was it you?’

‘Yes.’ He wondered whether Drucker was going to turn up and spoil things, and went back to his original question. ‘So, who were the other patients?’

Dion stood up. ‘I’ll show you.’ She walked out of the room and they followed.

She led them to the office Rocco had seen before.

‘Drucker keeps everything locked away. He’s obsessive about secrecy and doesn’t trust anyone.’ She reached under the desk and took out a key. ‘He doesn’t know I found this, though.’ She went over to one of the filing cabinets and unlocked it, and swept open the top drawer.

It was empty.

‘Looks like someone got there already,’ observed Rocco.

‘I don’t understand.’ Dion looked stunned. ‘It was full only yesterday. All the patient records were in there, arranged alphabetically. The staff files, too — everything.’ She checked the lower drawers but they were also empty. Then she used the key to open the other cabinet. The same. ‘Why would they do that?’

‘It’s what they do.’ He took a turn around the room. It was standard security behaviour if a place became compromised: cleanse the scene thoroughly and leave nothing behind. But why here? What were they hiding?

‘What do we do now?’ said Alix.

‘We keep looking,’ he said quietly, and picked up the telephone. He rang the office in Amiens and got through to René Desmoulins. ‘Can you get away?’ he asked him. Desmoulins relished getting involved in investigations with Rocco, and had a usefully rebellious streak when it came to dodging authority and cutting corners.

‘Just tell me where and when.’

‘Now. But quietly.’ He gave him directions and cut the connection, then handed the handset to Alix. ‘Can you get Claude here?’

‘Of course.’ She looked at him knowingly. ‘You’re planning something.’

‘We’re going to search this place,’ he told her, ‘starting with the patients’ rooms and working our way down. Desmoulins can help when he gets here, and Claude can do the outside.’ He looked at Dion. ‘You probably shouldn’t be here for this. But thanks for your help.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve got nothing else to do until I contact my base for instructions. Is what you’re going to do legal?’

‘I don’t have the authority to do it, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Fine. Count me in.’ She gave a half smile and reached into her jacket pocket, and took out a packet of cigarettes. ‘I’m not normally allowed to smoke on the premises,’ she said, and lit up, then blew out a mouthful of smoke with relish. ‘Drucker would have me transferred on the spot if he knew. But who’s going to stop me now?’ She gestured towards the door. ‘I’ll show you where everything is. And if we’re going to break the law together, Lucas, my name’s Inès.’