Merle: A French murder mystery (A Jacques Forêt Mystery Book 2) Page 3

  Jacques continued to take notes.

  Madeleine scraped her short, strawberry blonde hair behind her ears and, back straight, smiled at Jacques. “It’s been a long time since Paris. How are you?”

  “I’m very well, Madeleine.” Looking her straight in the eye, he pushed his chair out and moved to the other side of the table. “Today’s meeting was useful background, thanks. I will still need to interview you as already agreed. It would be helpful if you could make every effort to keep that appointment.”

  “So very formal, Jacques. It would be nice to catch up outside of work, don’t you think?”

  Jacques studied her face for a moment. The brown once smouldering eyes now seemed cold and empty, yet he still recognised the winsome smile. “I’m with someone else, Madeleine. Someone I can trust implicitly. We’ll talk on Thursday, as agreed. And we’ll talk only about this company, the work and my current investigation.” Without further hesitation, he collected his papers and notebook and marched out of the room. When he reached the head of the stairs, he bolted down all four flights in succession.

  ***

  The knock took Beth by surprise and she let the books she was holding cascade onto the leather sofa. Coming out of the snug, she smiled as she recognised her visitor through the full-length glass pane of the front door.

  “Gendarme Clergue, this is a surprise. How are you?”

  Clergue offered his hand for her to shake. “I’m fine, Madame Samuels, and please call me Thibault.”

  Holding the door open wide and expecting him to walk in, she asked, “Coffee?”

  “Another time, perhaps. I’m on duty and I just wanted to leave this for Jacques.” He handed her a letter. “He knows where to find me if he wants to discuss the contents, and I think he will.”

  Turning the envelope over to see who it was from, Beth recognised the name and nodded. “I’ll make sure he gets it when he comes home tonight.”

  Clergue smiled and replaced his cap. “It’s good to see you back here again.” With a broad grin on his face, he nodded and left.

  As she stood in the doorway watching his progress down the short path to the gate, her last words echoed through her mind. She knew she’d responded instinctively and without thinking. Home… Mmm I think I like that idea. Anticipating someone coming home after work was something she hadn’t been able to do for quite a while. A satisfied grin crept across her face, and she pushed the door shut.

  ***

  Merle was the most recently completed suburb of Mende. All the detached houses were arranged in small, neatly planned clusters around the perimeter of the agreed development. The central section held a selection of low-rise apartment blocks interspersed with managed, shared gardens and tasteful planting. Only the fourth-floor apartment, or penthouse as the estate agent had referred to it, was now unoccupied in the block named Hirondelle.

  Jacques sat on the low wall enclosing the planted raised beds and looked up at the building and then to left and right at the similar blocks that flanked it, each at a discreet distance. The fourth floor was certainly the best choice. The views from the windows at the back were unencumbered by the housing around the edge and the interior had been designed with the backdrop of the mountains as the focal point for the rooms. As Jacques had been escorted around the space, he had become more and more convinced that his search for somewhere permanent to live, now that he had had to relinquish the municipally owned house attached to the gendarmerie, was perhaps at an end. But the idea of making this address his was still not absolutely clear in his mind. Walking back to his motorbike, he folded the paperwork and put it in his pocket. He needed to talk to Beth in detail first. She knew he was looking for somewhere; they’d discussed it during their conversations online whilst she had been in England. But she didn’t yet know that he had found this place. He wanted to keep it as a surprise for her return. He felt sure that if she saw the place she would love it and then perhaps he could move their relationship onto a more permanent footing.

  I need to be careful not move too fast too soon.

  Helmet on, he revved the engine and carefully negotiated his route around the complex and out onto the main road.

  His next appointment was with an ex-employee who had been assigned to work at Vaux Consulting, and who lived on the terraces of housing stretching across Les Hautes de la Bergerie, no more than a five-minute ride away.

  As he knocked on the door of the apartment, he could hear music from inside.

  When the door opened, Jacques offered his card. “Jacques Forêt, Vaux Investigations, to see Nicolas Durand.”

  The young man stood back to let him in. “Through there, and please take a seat.”

  The flat was small and sparsely furnished, and its owner in his mid to late twenties, Jacques guessed.

  “What is this about?” Nicolas turned off his iPod but remained standing.

  “I’m conducting an internal investigation into working practices and allegations of breaches of security at Vaux Consulting, and I think that you may be able to provide me with some insight into the company during the time that you were working there.”

  “OK, but I wasn’t with them that long, you know.” Nicolas sat in the only other chair across from Jacques.

  “You were employed by Vaux for what period?”

  “Four and a half months. From April to August.”

  “And before that you worked for C and C Consulting. Is that, right?”

  Nicolas nodded.

  “What were your duties at Vaux?”

  “I just worked on the admin team. My work varied from day to day, but was mostly photocopying, inputting information to the shared spreadsheets and project plans on the open access area of the office network. Collating papers for meetings, making coffee. Mostly everything that no-one else wanted to do.”

  “And did you enjoy your time there?”

  “Not really.”

  Jacques waited, sensing there was more but Nicolas just shrugged.

  “Photocopying… So you must have had sight of highly confidential documents then. For tenders, maybe… Financial documents perhaps?”

  Nicolas thought for a moment. “Am I allowed to talk to you about this? I did sign a confidentiality agreement when I first joined the company, and as far as I can remember it is still valid even though I don’t work for Vaux any longer.”

  Jacques smiled. “Yes, I know. I have a copy of it here,” and he pulled out of his bag Nicolas’ personal file and opened it to show him. “Just to remind you, you cannot divulge details of financial information nor details of tenders. But once the tender is settled and the work awarded, the nature of such information changes.” Jacques knew he would be on difficult ground if his interviewee pressed him to be more precise. He was hoping that Nicolas was not too savvy about such matters, and that he would be able to glean some useful information that would at least point him in a direction that might be worth pursuing.

  Nicolas nodded. “Yes, I sometimes did copy information for bids for work, but it was never the financial details. I wouldn’t understand it anyway, even if I was given it to copy.”

  “And was this usual? Something you did regularly?”

  Nicholas frowned. “Copying the non-confidential information happened all the time. But the confidential papers? No. I can only remember it happening twice. Mademoiselle Lapointe asked me once and the other time was for Hélène Hardi. She was in charge of the admin team.”

  “Can you remember which work projects the papers were for?”

  “I’m really not sure I should be telling you this.”

  “I do have authority to go to Vaux Consulting and access all of their files for the last 18 months if I want to. But I would rather know where to look than to just gradually work my way through the whole filing system. You’ll save me a lot of time and your information could be vital, Nicolas. Anything you tell me will remain between us.”

  Nicolas frowned. “OK. They were both for work in Le Puy. The first one w
as for a two-year project to re-structure a company and retrain and re-skill staff, and the second was a refit of offices. I really can’t remember any details of the money involved but I do remember that Hélène insisted that I copy the documents immediately and that she stood beside me whilst I did it and collected the originals and copies from me as soon as it was done.”

  “So, if it was that important, why didn’t she do the copying herself?”

  Nicolas let out an exasperated gasp. “You don’t know what she’s like to work for!”

  Jacques sat back. “So, tell me about it, then.”

  “Hélène thinks she’s running the whole organisation. She’s always dropping names and talks as though the senior managers are her best friends. She thinks she is so clever. I mean, she’s a smoker, you know! How clever is that when you think about what we know now about the causes of lung cancer? And she gives the impression she knows everything and everyone.”

  Jacques suppressed a smile.

  “It was that bitch that got me fired.” Nicolas’ tone had hardened.

  “I thought your contract was only casual and just wasn’t renewed.” Jacques flicked through the papers in the file and scanned the copy of the two-paragraph letter that confirmed his own statement.

  “Huh! Is that what she told you? No. My contract was casual, that’s true. But it was Hélène who interviewed me and it was she who said at the interview, in answer to my direct question, that an initial contract would be drawn up for six months, and that it would then be reviewed at the end of that period, so there may be the possibility of further work. I passed my probationary period, and then everything changed.” He stood and moved to the window. “If you really want to know what goes on in that place,” he said, spinning round to face Jacques and pointing, “then go down to the underground car park at the back of the building where the smokers congregate, and you’ll find out that’s where she spends most of her time. She stands there gossiping. Constantly talking about other people. And it’s never complimentary.”

  Jacques thought for a moment. “Is this the letter you received?” He showed Nicolas the page he had in front of him.

  “No. That’s nothing like the letter I received.” He left the room and returned a few moments later. “This is what I got,” he said, thrusting a piece of paper at Jacques.

  In the small meeting room on the third-floor Jacques had the letter Nicolas had given him and the one in the file side by side on the table. He noted the similarities and differences and made a note to consult HR. Swivelling round in his chair, he stared out of the window and mulled over Nicolas’ assertion about the smoking area and decided it might be quite easily monitored with a discreetly angled security camera.

  Sound might be a problem, but a couple of days’ footage, maybe a week’s, should be all that I’ll need, perhaps.

  A light tap on the door brought him back to his next interviewee, and he gathered Nicolas’ papers together and put them face down on the floor beside his chair as Aimée walked in.

  “Please sit down and I will try to take up as little as possible of your valuable time. According to your personal file, Aimée, you’ve been working in this field for about five years. Is that, right?”

  “Yes, but I’ve only been working here since July last year.”

  “Did you know Nicolas Durand?”

  Aimée smiled. “Of course, he was part of the admin team.”

  “And was he a committed member of the team?”

  “Yes, I think so. He always delivered whatever I asked him to on time. I rarely had to ask him to change things or do things again. I got the impression he was happy here but then he was let go.”

  “Were you surprised at that?

  Aimée started to speak and then hesitated. “Yes, at first, but later, no.”

  “Why the change of opinion?”

  Aimée frowned and shifted in her chair. “I really don’t think I can say.”

  “Aimée, anything that you tell me, or anything that you know or think you know, will stay between us. It’s for me to decide if it is relevant to the investigation.” Jacques waited for her response. “If you don’t tell me, someone else will, or I’ll find out some other way. But if there is something that you think might help me then it will save a lot of time.”

  He watched as she chewed her bottom lip and let her gaze stray to the window.

  “I didn’t know he’d been sacked until he didn’t come back to the office after his leave in August. We’d been… I’d been out with him a couple of times just before we both went on leave and I was looking forward to seeing him when I got back. And when I asked where he was I was told he’d been sacked.”

  “Sacked? Are you sure about that?”

  She nodded.

  “So, he wasn’t on a short term casual contract, then?”

  “Oh yes, he was. A six-month contract with an option to be extended. Whilst he was on leave, he got a letter telling him not to return along with his final pay.”

  Jacques grimaced. “I’m no expert but that seems an unfair practice to me.”

  “I’m told it happens all the time here.” She shrugged. “But, I think you’re right. It does seem an unjust thing to do.”

  Jacques made a note to ask the HR Director if this was standard policy and then quickly added the initials of a couple of her senior managers with whom he could cross-check the answer. “What do you think really happened?”

  “I don’t… I’m not sure, Jacques. I haven’t seen Nicolas since the summer. I’ve texted him a couple of times but he hasn’t replied, so I don’t know what his version of events is.”

  “Would you like to speculate?”

  Aimée scowled, but after a few moments said flatly, “Hélène happened. She has this way of dealing with people that traps them into situations that they can’t get out of and then she uses the consequences against them. I’m not saying that’s what she did to Nicolas, because I don’t know. But, I think that, even if she wasn’t wholly responsible, if you dig deep enough, you’ll find she’s involved somewhere. But, I’ve been told you’ve got a desk in the operations area now, so just watch and see what happens. You were a policeman. I’m sure you’ll work it out for yourself, and I suppose that you’d prefer to gather your evidence directly than second hand from me.”

  Jacques nodded and smiled.

  wednesday, october 14th, 1.41am

  “I turned over and you weren’t there.”

  Jacques stretched out his hand towards her. “I need to tell you something.”

  Beth sat beside him and snuggled against his bare chest as his arm encircled her. “You’re cold.”

  “I have a recurring dream, Beth. I never know when it will happen. Sometimes it is weeks or months before it comes back to me, and sometimes it’s only a few days. And it’s always at the same time. Just after one-thirty in the morning.” He pulled her closer to him. “Sometimes I wake up before the end, sometimes not, and those are the worst times. That’s when I wake up screaming in remembered pain.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “I don’t know if I will ever be free of it.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not right now, Beth. There’s a lot to tell and I still don’t know if I can handle that yet.”

  “OK. It doesn’t matter, Jacques. But I’m here whenever you’re ready.” She snuggled even closer.

  “What are you up to today?” Jacques took the last piece of Beth’s croissant from her plate.

  “Hey! That’s mine. And I’m taking photos in the woods today.”

  He stopped putting papers in his bag and looked at her.

  “And that’s your concerned frown, Jacques. What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t think it’s such a good idea to be in the woods. Gaston has got a hunting party here all week and I’m not sure where their stands will be.”

  “Don’t worry. I will check that with Gaston, and I’ll be careful.” She walked with him to the front door.


  “I’ll see you tonight and we’ll talk in detail about the apartment in Merle.”

  Beth nodded and kissed him.

  ***

  The operations area had emptied of staff by nine that morning and at just before ten, Jacques saw Roger Baudin, coat over his arm, leave his office along with his senior manager. Two less to worry about. On the pretext of arranging an interview time with Édouard and Mademoiselle Lapointe, notebook in hand he strolled along the corridor to the end suite of offices. As usual, Édouard and his PA were in his office with the door closed and would be for at least the next hour, as was always the case on a Wednesday. To complete his ruse, he left a note on Mademoiselle’s desk and left.

  Out on the landing, he took the stairs straight down to the parking area where Serge was waiting for him, as planned.

  “I can have a pinhole camera installed just there,” he said, pointing up to a metal grill that was let into the wall above the housing, into which the full length roller door retracted when activated, at the rear entrance to the underground car park. “It will be fitted behind the grill, and it can be linked into the office network and the feed, including audio, will go directly to a hidden drive on the network that only you can access.”

  “So, if I want to view the feed, I have to be here in the office and at my desk. That’s not ideal, Serge.”

  “Not necessarily.” He stubbed out his cigarette on the side of the ashcan and pushed it into the sand in the centre. “The recordings from all the security cameras in and around both Vaux buildings are stored on the network on a daily basis and you can access them as and when you need to. Each file is automatically deleted after one month. But you can also access them remotely using your secure login.”

  Jacques frowned. “What’s that?”

  “It’s chilly here; let’s go to my office.” He activated the gate and moved across the parking area to the stairs. “The login that you have for the network here in the office can also be used from a laptop remotely. But you need an access key – a specific code – to get into the network, and the IT people can sort that out for you.”