Page 74 of Whispers At Dawn
Lizzie’s thoughts collided as she tried to figure out how to handle this latest disaster.
Luc continued, as if he had members of the Gestapo staying at his home regularly. ‘Let us move into the library and perhaps I may tempt you with another glass of our finest Armagnac. Our housekeeper will organise rooms for you and your chauffeur immediately.’
Von Schneider, whose mood had been somewhat subdued since the revelation that there was no abundant supply of Château de Saint-Clair wineto loot from the cellars, brightened considerably at the prospect of another drink.
The commissaire thanked them all for a wonderful evening, and excused himself, saying he had an early start.
One down, one to go, thought Lizzie.
Luc led Von Schneider back into the château, with Beau close at his heels.
Lizzie touched Jack’s arm, and they stayed outside. His face was a picture of confusion as he waited for an explanation about what had happened in the cellars.
Lizzie leaned closer, ‘Suzanne was hiding in the wine barrel!’
Jack gasped. ‘So that’s why Beau was so excited!’
‘Yes, and Luc is going to call her into the library at any minute. What shall we do?’
CHAPTER 37
Armand enjoyed his meal, and after smoking another cigarette, he eased his tired body off the chair and went to look for the housekeeper.
He entered the busy kitchen but couldn’t see her. When he enquiredwhere he could find her, no one seemed to know. The butler, who had his hands full, suggested she might be in her private sitting room, taking a break.
Armand tapped on the door, but there was no reply. He tapped again, but still no one responded. His curiosity to see more of the château prevailed and instead of returning to the kitchen to ask someone to find the housekeeper for him, he opened the door and poked his head inside the room. It was small and neat, much as he would expect a housekeeper’s room to be.
A hardback register lay on the writing desk, and the temptation proved too great to resist. He shuffled into the room, glancing back over his shoulder to check no one saw him. The hallway was deserted, so he closed the door softly behind him.
He opened the heavy book and thumbed through it, scanning the handwriting, looking for clues. Armand was always searching for clues and fancied himself something of a seasoneddetective. After several minutes, he realised it was just a record of mundane housekeeping notes and held no interest for him.
Footsteps approached the door, and he froze, then cast his eyes around for a place to hide. The room was too small, so he decided to pretend he was lost, but the sound of footsteps continued past the door and faded into the distance. The thrill of nearly being caught excited him and he craved more adventure, and wished he could go into the city on one of his surveillance operations.
Armand sighed at the unfairness of his situation and shuffled back out of the room. In the kitchen, there was still no sign of the housekeeper, so he asked the butler how to reach the turret he had seen from the courtyard.
The butler looked surprised until Armand added that he merely wished to admire what must surely be a magnificent view. He gave him directions and pointed him towards a spare lantern, and the disgruntled chauffeur limped out of the kitchens and along the hallway towards the back stairs. The lantern flickered to life reluctantly after several attempts with a match, casting an eerie yellow glow onto the steps.
He dragged his wasted leg up the winding staircase, grunting as he got ever higher, and his chest grew tight as he struggled to breathe. The steps were steep, and he hadn’t realised it would be so difficult for him to reach the top after such a hearty meal and several large drinks.
Halfway up, he paused to catch his breath, his muscles burning, and considered turning back. The turret would probably not live up to his expectations, anyway. But he reminded himself he was no quitter and who knew when he’d have the opportunity again? Armand proceeded, slowly but methodically until he reached the top and leant heavily against the stone wall, breathing fast from the exertion.
He let himself rest for a few minutes and after he recovered his strength, pulled himself upright and edged towards the turret room. Armand pushed on the thick wooden door, and it creaked, startling him. The light was insufficient to see properly, and he was regretting going up there at night. His impulsive nature often led him to do things he later wished he hadn’t.
Dust floated in the air, and he sneezed loudly as he crossed to the turret window. He pulled back the shutters and was rewarded for his persistence with a breathtaking view of Toulouse and the surrounding countryside. He had made it just in time to see the sun dip below the horizon and the soft cape of dusk coat the skies. The panoramic scene was glorious, and he inhaled deeply. It was the perfect night, and it was so peaceful, he stood there revelling in the experience.
He squinted, trying to work out who was running in the distance. He was surprised to recognise the figure of the housekeeper, obviously in a great rush.
What on earth was she doing at that time of night when her master was entertaining such prestigious guests? Armand watched her run, his mind ticking over as he tried to think of a viable excuse for her strange behaviour.
It made no sense. He concluded it was very odd indeed and couldn’t find a reason for it. Armand made a mental note to add the housekeeper—Suzanne—to his list of potential traitors. He would discover her family name easily enough if he made enquiries with his network of informants. They were always keen to please in any way they could, desperate to buy his good favour.
His climb to the turret was proving more stimulating than he had imagined and his juices were flowing again as he thought of uncovering some kind of resistance connection to Suzanne. She might even be the ringleader.
The Resistance was becoming more troublesome, and he had received a fresh set of orders to scale up his investigations into local troublemakers. Recently, a rail track had been destroyed by explosives and the expensive cargo bound for Germany had been ruined and the transport delayed considerably until a new track could be laid. The commissaire was furious and told the Legion they must do better. The police could not handle everything alone and they were relying on them to root out enemies of state before they gained anymore traction.
Nightfall arrived swiftly whilst Armand deliberated about Suzanne and her possible motives for roaming around the château grounds alone at night. He closed the shutters and searched the small turret room to see if there was anything of interest. It occurred to him that this might even be a space the housekeeper used for her treasonous activities, and he regretted not combing her sitting room whilst he had the chance.
Armand pulled the drawers out of the old desk and poked about, but there was nothing inside except for a few dusty Toulousian keepsakes. He explored the room, looking for anywhere incriminating evidence might be hidden. His eyes rested on a shelf which protruded from the rugged stone wall, and his pulse raced at the thought of the imminent discovery that would show his superiors, he was someone to be reckoned with. He reached up to the shelf and sneezed again as a shower of dust tickled his nostrils. His heartbeat picked up pace as he patted the inside of the stone shelf, and his fingers located a large key. He stretched and clutched at it, fumbling to pull it off.
