Free The Dress Thief by Natalie Meg Evans Page B

coming for me? I read in the newspaper about his Gestapo police and cannot stop thinking of the day I was taken by the police from my home in Kirchwiller. I am so scared in Paris. I did not think I would be.’
    ‘What made you leave London? You had a home and a life there.’
    She shrugged. ‘The eternal search forsafety … foratonement.’ A nervous smile distorted her lips. ‘Here, at least if the police come to fetch me I can call on you or on my friend Bonnet. Both of you helped me before, did you not?’ She waited for his wordless acknowledgement before asking, ‘What do you want of me?’
    Her confession of fear had pushed him off track, and when he spoke he forgot to be cautious. ‘I have become a victimof blackmail over your husband’s death.’ He saw her touch the scar at her temple. ‘Yes, that day has finally returned. Madame, you swore to tell no living soul.’
    ‘Yes, I swore it.’
    ‘Somebody knows. Somebody telephoned me at home, minutes after I received this.’ He passed her the grubby letter that had been delivered to his home on the twelfth. ‘Tell me if you know the writing.’
    She handed itback after a moment and her body was trembling. ‘I don’t recognise the hand. He threatens to expose the truth of Alfred’s death. It is blackmail, Monsieur, but the writer is not sure of his ground.’
    ‘Why d’you say that?’
    ‘He threatens to hurt someone you love if you do not pay. Which shows that exposing the facts of poor Alfred’s murder is not enough … because nobody cares any more.’ She murmuredin Yiddish. ‘People thought
I
had killed my husband.’
    ‘You were arrested on suspicion only, and released almost immediately.’
    ‘Thanks to you. But to rescue me, you brought others into our secret. Perhaps one of those ‘others’ has crawled out from under a stone to threaten you.’
    He agreed, adding, ‘But who?’
    ‘There was Kern.’
    ‘The police inspector whom my mother bribed? He died a decade agoand had no reason to talk. After all, we made him rich. There is Célie Haupmann, of course, my mother’s housekeeper … but she’s frail now and her loyalty to my mother was always beyond question.’
    ‘To your mother, but not to you. Was Haupmann the one who brought warm clothes to me in prison?’ Danielle stroked her sleeves as he confirmed it. ‘She did not like me. I don’t think she liked you either.You say she is frail?’
    ‘She is dying. I don’t suspect her.’
    ‘She has dependents though? A son or daughter who pokes her for money, who might benefit from a little windfall?’
    ‘Haupmann has no children. She was always utterly dependent on my family and will be loyal to her last breath. Could
you
have revealed the facts of your husband’s death accidentally? Perhaps to Raphael Bonnet?’
    ‘We agreedon a story that would save us both, and I told nobody, not even my child! As for that –’ she pointed at the letter – ‘
that
was written by a lout who smokes dung. My old friend Bonnet is a man of proven loyalty. Whatever he has learned of
my
failings –
mein gott
, I have many – he would notexploit them for money.’ She clasped her hands, closing the subject. ‘How much does your liver-worm blackmailerwant?’
    He found a smile. ‘Rather a lot, and I’m struggling to raise it. According to his admirably detailed instructions, I’m to leave it behind a tobacco kiosk near Notre-Dame-d’Auteuil on Good Friday. That’s the day after tomorrow—’ He broke off as a woman walked by. She was slim, dark-eyed, and his thoughts jumped to Alix. ‘How is our Aliki? I’d like to see her.’
    Danielle scraped her chairas she rose. ‘I must go.’
    Jean-Yves followed her out of the church, catching her arm as she stumbled in the afternoon dazzle. ‘At your request I haven’t contacted Alix, but I hate pretending that I don’t know she’s in the same city. If she needs a friend here, money to study with, a letter of recommendation,