The Nicolas Le Floch Affair: Nicolas Le Floch Investigation #4. Jean-Francois Parot

      Notes – CHAPTER 3

1. A building in which costumes and sets from Court celebrations were stored.

2. A fashionable tavern in the outlying district of La Courtille.

       IV

       DARK DEEDS

      Experience began to take the place of age, it had the same effect on us as years.

      ABBÉ PRÉVOST

      Never, thought Nicolas, had Monsieur de Sartine let himself go like this in front of those closest to him. The object of his hilarity must really be worth it. Every time he looked at the stunned expression on Nicolas’s face, not to mention his absurd costume, his laughter started up again, louder than ever, lighting up his face and fleetingly making him look his real age. His usual gravity and composure were cracking like a veneer, revealing a rough sketch of a happy adolescent. But gradually he calmed down, grew serious again and anxiously adjusted his wig.

      ‘I imagine, Commissioner,’ he said, ‘that you were expecting some fit of anger on my part. It would certainly have been justified. There are many things I could say about your thoughtlessness – if that is not too weak a word. It’s beyond my understanding that you should have heeded the poisoned advice of a friend acting on my orders. To give Bourdeau his due, he was not at all happy at the idea of deceiving you.’

      Nicolas cast an indignant glance at Bourdeau, who did not flinch.

      ‘Oh, you can forgive him. He defended you tooth and nail, being more convinced of your innocence than anyone, even before it had been established that this was a criminal matter. No use looking at me with that air of dismay. You’ve been with me for nearly fifteen years. Have I ever struck you as being so naïve as to take a suspect purely at his word? For, whether you liked it or not, that was what you were, potentially, even though my natural inclination and my warm feelings towards you led me to believe you innocent. Those feelings, anyway, were the man’s, not the Lieutenant General’s. You know my love of secrecy. I wanted to see you at work on an investigation where you would be free to do as you wanted, knowing that Bourdeau would keep me informed of everything.’

      ‘Monsieur,’ said Nicolas, taking advantage of a pause, ‘one question, just one question. Why has this test – not that I’m complaining about it—’

      ‘I should hope not! You are hardly in a position to do so, and I note that you don’t exactly seem overcome with remorse.’

      ‘Why,’ Nicolas pressed on, ‘has this test suddenly come to an end? If you’d let it continue, you’d have been able to back up your judgement even more conclusively.’

      ‘Now he’s giving me advice! Reason away if you must, but I have my own reasons for acting as I do, and I don’t need to give an account of them to you. Try not to provoke me. I have every justification to be angry with you for your lack of honesty.’

      ‘But what should I have done, Monsieur?’ protested Nicolas. ‘Should I have come to you and denounced a friend who had thrown me a lifeline? In not doing so, I wasn’t betraying you. I was discreetly helping justice to do its work, since I was best placed, because of my intimacy with Madame de Lastérieux, to sift the truth from the lies.’

      ‘There speaks a pupil of the Jesuits in Vannes,’ said Sartine. ‘But all I’m concerned with is the facts. Bourdeau’s reports have certainly tipped the balance in your favour. There remains one factor, which will be decisive in restoring the trust I fully concede to you as a man and would like to restore to you as the Lieutenant General of Police too, Nicolas.’

      ‘I am at your service, Monsieur.’

      ‘I want you to tell me in as much detail as possible about your second visit to Julie de Lastérieux’s house on the night in question.’

      ‘That’s easy, Monsieur,’ replied Nicolas. ‘I went back after my visit to the Théâtre-Français, determined to patch things up with Julie. As soon as I let myself into the house, I heard a lot of noise and realised that the party was still going on. That made me angry again and I decided not to show myself. As Monsieur de Noblecourt was giving a Twelfth Night dinner and I didn’t want to go back to Rue Montmartre empty-handed, I went into the servants’ pantry to recover the bottle of old Tokay I had bought for my mistress. On the way out, I bumped into someone I didn’t know, a musician I’d seen for the first time that afternoon playing the pianoforte. As I was in a hurry, I shoved him aside. Then I passed Julie’s servant Casimir and went downstairs.’

      ‘I can bear witness to the fact,’ said Bourdeau, breaking his silence, ‘that when Nicolas returned to Monsieur de Noblecourt’s house, he lost consciousness and broke the bottle in question.’

      ‘Thank you,’ said Sartine, handing him a letter. ‘You have the Lieutenant General’s trust and his certainty of your innocence. May it please heaven that everyone is as convinced as I am! An impression, however strong, is not proof, especially to some of our magistrates.’

      Nicolas opened the letter. What he read filled him with anger and dread.

       7 January 1774

       Monsieur

       I owe it to myself and to my sense of moral rectitude as well as to the kindness you have always shown me to inform you of the following facts. I have just learnt of the death of Madame Julie de Lastérieux, a close friend and a distinguished harpsichordist, in conditions I cannot find words to describe.

       However, rumours are circulating that she may have been poisoned. It so happens that last night I was invited to her house to dine with friends. Your clerk Monsieur Le Floch arrived late in the afternoon and had a violent argument with our hostess. He pushed me aside and ran out like a madman, much to the surprise of everyone present. Two or three hours later, as we were dining, I was told that he had come back and had crept secretly into the servants’ pantry. Far be it from me to make accusations, but it seems that he was surprised tampering in some mysterious way with the dishes.

       Whatever the affection I have for him, and all too aware at my age of how human passions may lead us astray, I was determined, Monsieur, to do my duty. I remain at your disposal and assure you that I am, more than ever, your very humble and obedient servant

       Balbastre

      ‘I’ve seldom read anything more ignominious and more hypocritical!’ cried Nicolas. ‘I have always known that the man has borne me a grudge since the very first time we met, without being sure why. Your clerk! He’s always called me that, and in his mouth it’s a genuine insult. As for this “secretly” and “mysterious” …’ Nicolas was waving the letter. ‘The nerve of the man!’

      ‘Calm down,’ said Sartine. ‘I agree the letter is somewhat sickening. But make no mistake, it contains enough elements to condemn a suspect in a court of law. Imagine for a moment that you had concealed from me the fact that you had gone into the servants’ pantry. What conclusions would I have had to draw from such an omission? We will of course have to look into the reasons for such rank hatred. It’s too well founded not to conceal something else. The organist of Notre Dame truly hates you.’

      ‘What are we going to do?’ asked Bourdeau.

      ‘There is no time to lose. We must question the servants. I’ve had them brought here from the police station in Rue du Bac. They’re in my office, under guard. Nicolas, keep your disguise on for a moment. Rabouine, who never went any further than the Jardin de l’Infante, has left your clothes in Old Marie’s box