Free The Devil in Montmartre by Gary Inbinder Page B

performed this operation just once. Can you tell us when?”
    “Yes, Inspector, I operated Wednesday afternoon, the 14th. It’s documented in the medical record.”
    Achille did a quick mental calculation. According to the night soil collection schedule, the body must have been dumped in the pit between the early morning hours of the 13th and the 15th. That timeframe was consistent with Bertillon and the pathologist’s estimate of the time of death. Could the murderer have witnessed the operation on the afternoon of the 14th and then committed the crime sometime between that afternoon and the early morning hours of the following day? Based on the state of decomposition, death must have occurred on the early end of the scale, either shortly before or immediately after the operation. Then the body could have been disposed of several hours later, under the cover of darkness and at a time when the act was least likely to have been observed.
    After a brief pause, Achille continued: “And I assume you also have a record of those attending the operation?”
    “Of course, my assistants were in attendance, but I assure you they are young gentlemen of spotless reputation.”
    Achille smiled in an attempt to put the surgeon at ease. “I have no reason to doubt that, doctor, but you do understand that I may want to ask them some routine questions?”
    “Of course, Inspector, I shall provide you with their names and addresses, as well as the hours when they may be reached at the clinic.”
    “Thank you, doctor. I believe there was also a small group of visitors who witnessed the operation?”
    “Yes, a few of my trusted colleagues were present, and an artist, Monsieur de Toulouse-Lautrec. He made a sketch of the operation. The gentleman’s cousin is one of my assistants.”
    “Do you have a list of the attendees?”
    “Yes, Inspector; attendance is by invitation only. My clerk at the clinic keeps a journal containing the names and signatures of those present, the time they arrived as well as the time they signed out.”
    “I would very much appreciate having a look at that journal.”
    “Very well, you may contact my clerk,” Péan said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I’ll leave you a card with his name. Now, if you gentlemen are finished, I must go to the hospital. I have a very busy day ahead of me.”
    “Thank you, doctor. I apologize for the inconvenience. I have one more question. In your professional opinion, do you think a layman who witnessed the operation could have performed the surgery?”
    Péan’s face reddened; his hands shook visibly, as if the question were a gross insult. “Absolutely not! The amputation of the head and limbs was skilful enough, but the hysterectomy is a procedure of the utmost delicacy. Only the most proficient and experienced surgeons would attempt it.”
    Achille was put off by the doctor’s reaction to a perfectly reasonable question. Nevertheless, he smiled and spoke very respectfully in an attempt to placate Péan. “Thank you so much, doctor. You have been most helpful.” He turned to Bertillon. “Do you have any questions for the doctor, Monsieur Bertillon?”
    Bertillon frowned and shook his head. “No, that will be all for today.” Smiling sheepishly he turned to the fuming Péan: “Thank you, doctor, for your cooperation. This is a difficult case, and we very much appreciate your assistance. I would ask that you do not discuss this matter with anyone. If your colleagues or employees have questions, you may refer them to Inspector Lefebvre or to me. We will be discreet in our questioning, and would like to keep this matter out of the newspapers for as long as possible.”
    “That goes without saying, Monsieur Bertillon. Nobody wants the press poking round in his business. At any rate, I knew your father well; a fine physician. Now I must be off.” Péan turned abruptly to Achille. He pulled out a card and a pencil, scribbled his clerk’s name, and handed it