Read The Body In the Vestibule Online
Authors: Katherine Hall Page
The Body In the Vestibule (22 page)
Faith Sibley Fairchild's eyes flew open in complete panic. Where the hell was she? The sight of the huge clock face of the Eglise St. Nizier filling the bedroom window slowed her heart rate and she took several deep breaths. She was home, or what passed for home these days. She was back in Lyon and the small boy curled up next to her sound asleep, snoring slightly and radiating heat, was her own Benjamin. Her Benjaminâwho had not left her side since the whole family had rushed madly toward one another in Chief Inspector Ravier's office a few hours ago.
As she lay on the big double bed, so quaintly called the
lit matrimonial
even for those non-espoused, she felt a deep sense of peace. It was over. It wasn't that the horror of the events had left her. This had grown even more intense now
when she thought of all the might-have-beens. The underlying peace came from knowing she was safe for sure.
lit matrimonial
even for those non-espoused, she felt a deep sense of peace. It was over. It wasn't that the horror of the events had left her. This had grown even more intense now
when she thought of all the might-have-beens. The underlying peace came from knowing she was safe for sure.
The trip from Meyrueis to Lyon had seemed to take almost as long as her escape from Christophe. First, she'd told the story to the local
gendarmes
, who were completely over the moonâout of all the
gendarmeries
in France, the missing
Américaine
had walked into theirsâthen she told it again to Michel Ravier once they succeeded in reaching him by phone. They didn't ask grandmother's shoe size, but they had wanted every detail of the last two days.
gendarmes
, who were completely over the moonâout of all the
gendarmeries
in France, the missing
Américaine
had walked into theirsâthen she told it again to Michel Ravier once they succeeded in reaching him by phone. They didn't ask grandmother's shoe size, but they had wanted every detail of the last two days.
Frédéric and Clotilde were able to help narrow the search for the farmhouse where she'd been kept captive by their intimate knowledge of the surrounding terrain, especially after Faith described the series of caves. No one expected that Christophe would be at the house, but the police were anxious to check it out. The Lyon police were picking up the two girls and Benoît, as well as the senior d'Amberts, for questioning. Descriptions of Christophe and his uncle were being circulated all over France and surrounding countries, especially at the borders. Faith remembered to tell them about the gun, and he was being described as dangerousâan understatement, Frédéric avowed.
When the Meyrueis police had finally produced a car and driver to take her back to Lyon, Faith was numb with exhaustion and saddened to leave the two flower children going to seed, whom she now numbered among her closest friends. It was even hard to leave Félix. When she got into the police car, Clotilde and Frédéric had pressed not only the heavy cloak, already too warm in the morning sun, upon her but rounds of goat cheese, a lamp shade, and several iron implements of varying natures. Félix gave her a sack filled with radishes and lettuce.
Her driver had graduated from the same auto-training school as Félix and for a good part of the trip the words
déja vu
took on new and powerful meaning. Yet, even at many kilometers over the speed limit and with the siren blaring all
the way, it had taken three hours to reach Lyon. As they entered the city on the A7, the Autoroute du Soleil, the sun had indeed been shining and Faith clutched the young
gendarme's
arm in joy when she caught sight of the first bridge, the Pont Pasteur, then the train station and other familiar landmarks. The only thing that would have made her happier at that moment would have been a glimpse of the green in secure little Aleford, Massachusetts.
déja vu
took on new and powerful meaning. Yet, even at many kilometers over the speed limit and with the siren blaring all
the way, it had taken three hours to reach Lyon. As they entered the city on the A7, the Autoroute du Soleil, the sun had indeed been shining and Faith clutched the young
gendarme's
arm in joy when she caught sight of the first bridge, the Pont Pasteur, then the train station and other familiar landmarks. The only thing that would have made her happier at that moment would have been a glimpse of the green in secure little Aleford, Massachusetts.
Michel Ravier had not wanted to keep her long, and after listening again to her story, had told her to get some rest and they'd get together later in the day. He was right. She was ready to drop, and when they'd emerged into the street, the throngs of reporters and photographers had overwhelmed her. Paul Leblanc offered a brief statement to the effect that Madame Fairchild was fine and the police were seeking her abductors. He referred them to Ravier and, like a devoted sheepdog, parted the crowd and shepherded them into the car, where Ghislaine was waiting at the wheel.
“You'll have to have some sort of press conference or they'll never leave you alone,” she advised. Faith and Tom had agreed. But not until tomorrow. Paul had said he would take care of it.
“If I could have kept Dominique's name out of it, I would have,” Faith started to say. Ghislaine interrupted her. “Absolutely not. It's obvious that she is deeply troubled and if not for you, who knows where she might have ended up.” She gestured toward the street at two young women in high black boots, lace body stockings, and not much else. It reminded Faith of Marie. Michel told her a team had gone to the
hôtel de ville
after he had spoken with her and it did appear that Marie, or someone, had been dragged along the tunnel leading to the river. They planned to exhume the body to see if the evidence matched. Poor Marie, Faith had thought, she couldn't lie in peace even in death.
hôtel de ville
after he had spoken with her and it did appear that Marie, or someone, had been dragged along the tunnel leading to the river. They planned to exhume the body to see if the evidence matched. Poor Marie, Faith had thought, she couldn't lie in peace even in death.
When they'd gotten back to the apartment, all Faith had wanted to do was sleep, and did almost immediately. Now, fully awake, she wondered where Tom was. She didn't hear any sounds of activity in the apartment. Like Benjamin, her husband had firmly attached himself to her with limpetlike devotion. All three had been napping together.
She got up cautiously so as not to disturb Ben. He'd been told she had been away visiting friends; and had greeted her with wails of “Why didn't you take me, Mommee? Ben would be good!” It almost broke her heart. The Leblancs had entertained him nonstop, Tom had told herâtaking the little boy to the zoo at Parc de la Tête d'Or, the Roman ruins in Old Lyon, and to every playground in the area. Still, Ben had been aware of the tension around him and Faith was sure he hadn't been sleeping well, even with Pierre and the Leblanc's aging Irish setter, Lola, as comforting bedmates. She hoped Ben would make up for it now. When he awoke, she planned to be right before his eyes. But where was Tom?
She walked into the kitchen and found a note propped up against the sugar bowl.
Sweetheart, I know you're going to be hungry when you wake up, so I went out for a few provisions. Back soon. Before you're awake, I hope. Love you, Love you, LoveâI could go on forever, Tom
He
was
a darling, Faith smiled to herself. And she
was
starving. Breakfast had been an awfully long time ago and she'd politely refused the Meyrueis
gendarme
's offer to stop on the highway for le sandweech. She'd wanted to get back.
was
a darling, Faith smiled to herself. And she
was
starving. Breakfast had been an awfully long time ago and she'd politely refused the Meyrueis
gendarme
's offer to stop on the highway for le sandweech. She'd wanted to get back.
The refrigerator was vintage Mother Hubbard. Since they'd planned to be away, Faith had emptied it. All that remained was a jar of Amora béarnaise sauce, surprisingly good in a junk food kind of way; some juice; and a few
bedraggled scallions. She poured herself a glass of juice and stood at the window. The people across the way had filled their window box with bright pink begonias during her absence. It was odd to think of life going on so normally while hers was being turned upside down. Hers and the d'Amberts.
bedraggled scallions. She poured herself a glass of juice and stood at the window. The people across the way had filled their window box with bright pink begonias during her absence. It was odd to think of life going on so normally while hers was being turned upside down. Hers and the d'Amberts.
She hadn't seen Solange and Jean-François but knew from Michael that they were in another part of the
commissariat.
What would she say to them? Or they to her? We're sorry our son planned to kill you? And from what Michel had said, it was not clear what role they, or perhaps only Jean-François, might have played. One of the large question marks that remained was what had happened to the stolen goods.
commissariat.
What would she say to them? Or they to her? We're sorry our son planned to kill you? And from what Michel had said, it was not clear what role they, or perhaps only Jean-François, might have played. One of the large question marks that remained was what had happened to the stolen goods.
The girls and Benoît had told the police that they were stealing for the good of society. The idea had been Christophe'sâof course. The people they knew had too many things. They did not need the jewelry, and other items they owned and it would help to feed, clothe, and house those who had nothing. The plan was always the same. The four would meet to draw straws to see whose turn it was to carry out the robbery, then afterward would place the stolen goods at the bottom of a shopping bag filled with old clothes and drop the bag in a trash can at a particular rendezvous. The place was the only thing that changed, depending on where the targeted apartment was. Then they were to watch from a distance to make sure a
clochard
picked up the bag. They presumed the
clochard
then took the bag to some shelter or agency. When pressed for more details, all three had exhibited a similar lack of interest. Christophe knew. He'd arranged it. They trusted him. They were still protecting him, and it was not until Ravier told Berthille and Dominique that it had been Faith at the farmhouse, kidnapped by their friend, that they had broken down and cried. They had both been in love with him and he had treated them miserably. He was horrible. They
hoped he would spend the rest of his life in prison. None of them had admitted to knowing his uncle or the
clochard
Bernard, except as mentioned by Christophe in passing as a character in his neighborhood.
clochard
picked up the bag. They presumed the
clochard
then took the bag to some shelter or agency. When pressed for more details, all three had exhibited a similar lack of interest. Christophe knew. He'd arranged it. They trusted him. They were still protecting him, and it was not until Ravier told Berthille and Dominique that it had been Faith at the farmhouse, kidnapped by their friend, that they had broken down and cried. They had both been in love with him and he had treated them miserably. He was horrible. They
hoped he would spend the rest of his life in prison. None of them had admitted to knowing his uncle or the
clochard
Bernard, except as mentioned by Christophe in passing as a character in his neighborhood.
It had been exhausting, Michel had told Tom and Faith. He'd far rather question adults, even hardened criminals. Less posing, fewer hormones. In the end, he was fairly certain all three had known nothing of the murder or kidnapping. And as for the robberies, he was pretty sure they deliberately chose not to think about what happened to the loot. So long as they told themselves they were performing a noble deed, they didn't have to admit to the fact that they were doing it for the thrill of it, and in Dominique's case, he suspected, to get back at her very proper parents.
Christophe. It all came back to this one young man, Faith thought as she finished the juice, which unfortunately had served to make her even hungrier. She went back into the hallway to go check on Ben. Her hand gently rubbed her abdomenâall serene there.
There was some mail from Saturday piled on the table and
mirabile dictu
âa
ballotin
of chocolates from Voisin. She opened the box and they proved to be those yummy
Coussins de Lyon,
little pillows of thin, crisp sugar, colored pale green, coating a stuffing of dark rich chocolate. She looked inside for a note to find out who they were from. It wasn't likely that Tom would have had the time or inclination to buy bonbons these last two days. She lifted up the layers of candies and there was a note at the bottom. Not a card from the shop but a piece of paper with jagged edges that appeared to have been hastily torn from a pad. It didn't do much to solve the mystery. All it said was:
mirabile dictu
âa
ballotin
of chocolates from Voisin. She opened the box and they proved to be those yummy
Coussins de Lyon,
little pillows of thin, crisp sugar, colored pale green, coating a stuffing of dark rich chocolate. She looked inside for a note to find out who they were from. It wasn't likely that Tom would have had the time or inclination to buy bonbons these last two days. She lifted up the layers of candies and there was a note at the bottom. Not a card from the shop but a piece of paper with jagged edges that appeared to have been hastily torn from a pad. It didn't do much to solve the mystery. All it said was:
Attention Ã
. C. et
.
. C. et.M.
It made no sense at all. Faith immediately put the box down. No matter how strong her hunger pangs, eating these did not seem to be a wise move.
Attention,
“watch out”âshe'd seen it on signs. Said it to Benjamin. Watch out for hearts?
C.
could be Christophe. Christophe and a heart, one of his girlfriends? One of the girlsâor some other girl? And
M.
Another
M
had warned Faith and she hadn't understood how deadly the game was. The other two
M
's undoubtedly had. The candies had to be from Marilyn or Monique, placed in the Fairchild's mailbox before they, too, disappeared.
Attention,
“watch out”âshe'd seen it on signs. Said it to Benjamin. Watch out for hearts?
C.
could be Christophe. Christophe and a heart, one of his girlfriends? One of the girlsâor some other girl? And
M.
Another
M
had warned Faith and she hadn't understood how deadly the game was. The other two
M
's undoubtedly had. The candies had to be from Marilyn or Monique, placed in the Fairchild's mailbox before they, too, disappeared.
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