Page 42 of Daughters of Paris

Sébastien looked at Colette as if he was seeing her for the first time. His glasses implied his eyesight was poor but all the same, she felt she was being turned inside out.

‘You did this?’

She nodded and drew closer to Fleur.

‘Merde!’

He spat out the expletive with the force of a bullet leaving a gun and turned to Fleur with anger in his eyes. ‘Don’t you realise the trouble you will be in?’

‘Of course I realise,’ Fleur snapped. She folded her arms and held his gaze. ‘I told you we need help deciding what to do. We can’t move the body alone.’

Sébastien gave a low whistle. ‘You are asking me to cover up the murder of a German soldier to save your friend’s neck? Why would I do that for some little rich girl I don’t even know?’

Fleur lifted her chin. ‘Because thelittle rich girlsaved me from being raped by that piece of garbage lying there.’

She glanced at Colette and smiled, acknowledging the rescue, and Colette felt warmth spreading through her. She spoke for the first time.

‘It was an accident. I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did mean to hit him. I didn’t think he would die. Fleur pushed him in the chest, then I hit him with the case, and he caught his foot and fell.’

‘Take a breath, mademoiselle, before you expire. What is in your case? Bricks?’ Sébastien gave a tired grin; the first sign of humour since he arrived.

‘My gas mask.’ Colette held it out to show him. ‘But I edged the box with some belt buckles to make it look interesting. There was a dreadful crack. I think his neck broke when he hit the third or fourth step down.’

‘I think you’re probably right. Let me go look at him.’ Sébastien went down the steps and knelt over the body. Colette and Fleur sat together on the top step, watching.

‘Do you think he will help?’ Colette whispered.

‘Of course he will.’

Sébastien returned to them.

‘We are in luck. Yes, his neck has broken. There is a gash on his head, which I assume is from your box, but there are more from where he fell. Even more fortunately, he has a bottle of brandy in his pocket. He reeks of the stuff. I think what happened is perfectly clear. He came down here for a piss. Pardon my language.’

His eyes flickered briefly to Colette, who waved his apology away and he continued.

‘He was drunk so did not notice the winding plants and caught his foot. I have unbuckled his belt and opened his flies.’

‘You can’t leave him here!’ Colette exclaimed. ‘Someone will come looking.’

Sébastien gave her a patient look. ‘If he is never found that will be more suspicious. Look at all these weeds. Help me drag a few more across the steps, Fleur, and can you wind some around the toes of his boot?’

Fleur did as asked. It did look convincing.

‘I think that will work,’ Colette said.

Sébastien nodded as if he was in no doubt. ‘Could anyone place you here? Are there any gaps in your whereabouts tonight?’

Fleur shook her head. ‘Madame Farrier knows I was at the café then came back here but she won’t know when I left there.’

Sébastien turned to Colette. ‘You, mademoiselle?’

Colette leaned back against the wall. After the angry way Fleur had reacted to discovering that she had been dancing and drinking in a club filled with Germans she was reluctant to bring it up again and face further criticism, but what else could she do?

‘Dancing atLa Balajo,’ she admitted

‘With Germans? Do you always dance with the enemy before you murder them?’ She could hear the sneer in Sébastien’s voice.

‘Your café only serves Frenchmen, does it?’ she retorted.

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