Free Bellringer by J. Robert Janes Page B

boiled potatoes. The soup, though tepid, was thin until the rest of the meal had been hastily added to that sûreté bowl by Louis, along with the one allowed slice of bread.
    ‘There is no wine?’ he asked facetiously.
    ‘Kohler, who the hell is that?’
    It would be best not to say, The one who caused the delay. . . ‘My partner. He’s senior to me.’
    ‘A Frenchman? Get him out of here. He can eat in the cellars with the blacks.’
    ‘Colonel. . . ’
    ‘Hermann, einen Moment, bitte ? It’s a good idea, isn’t it?’ said St-Cyr.
    ‘Two of them may still be in the kitchens, Kohler, where they’re supposed to be doing up the pots and pans and cleaning the ovens. Those verdammten layabouts are probably smoking tobacco they’ve stolen. They’ll be using that gibberish of theirs no one can understand.’
    Discreetly gathering up his soup plate and spoon, Louis tucked the half-round remains of the bread under an arm and departed.
    ‘ Ach, ’ continued Jundt, flattening his big hands on the table, ‘I can’t stand the French. Little better than the eastern labourers, Kohler. The horsewhip and a damned good thrashing are what they need. Ten of the best and the boot! Now, what have you for me?’
    Thank God, Louis hadn’t heard him. ‘Two possible murders, a terminated pregnancy, a kleptomaniac, a medium who overcharges, and one datura capsule that contains from two to four hundred seeds and has gone missing.’
    ‘Datura. . . ?’
    Instant suspicion had registered, but perhaps it would be wise not to tell him the whole truth. ‘Some kind of herb, Colonel.’
    ‘You’d better ask the monk. A kleptomaniac?’
    Berlin was going to hear of this last—Jundt had that look about him. ‘A compulsive thief, Colonel. Little things of no use or consequence.’
    ‘Or reason for murder? Das Motiv, Kohler? Isn’t that one of the first things an experienced detective looks for? You are experienced, aren’t you?’
    ‘We’re working on it.’
    ‘Are you indeed? I give you two days. If you don’t come up with something solid, Untersturmführer Weber will be given the order he wants: others, Kohler; others from Berlin who will soon sort this matter out. Colonel Kessler was wrong to have asked the Kommandant von Gross-Paris for help. Paris-Central should have known better than to have sent you and that other one.’
    ‘Afraid of what Weber and the boys from Berlin might do, was he, this Colonel Kessler?’
    Kohler had earned that gash down his face from the SS during a murder investigation near Vouvray in December, and understood the whip better than most yet had still chosen to remain defiant of authority. ‘The Untersturmführer is in charge of security. Colonel Kessler should by rights have left the entire matter in his capable hands.’
    A second lieutenant in the SS and wouldn’t you know it! ‘Your predecessor, Colonel. . . We understand that he availed himself of Madame Chevreul’s séances.’
    ‘You want them stopped?’
    Must this one be suspicious of everything? ‘Not yet. Better to let them continue.’
    Jundt tapped that Wehrmacht nose of his with a cautioning forefinger. ‘But you think they’re involved. I can tell.’
    ‘We just need a little time to sort things out, that’s all.’
    Perhaps some reason for Kessler’s having attended the séances should be given. ‘Colonel Kessler’s wife of thirty-seven years was killed during the bombing of last September. The house was unfortunately flattened.’
    And houses these days were important, considering what the RAF were doing at night and the USAF during the day, but best not to mention that, either. ‘Anything else?’
    ‘The Kesslers’ little maid, Kohler. A girl the couple had taken an interest in was also killed. I gather he was very close to both of them.’
    And if that wasn’t a hint, what was? ‘Did the medium get through to them?’
    Did they talk to each other from beyond the clouds? Such persistence could only mean Kohler