“All right, Inspector. But before I leave, I insist you tell me something. Do you believe Mlles Brownlow and Endicott are in danger?”
The question raised concerns that had troubled Achille’s conscience day and night. Regardless, he answered honestly: “For the time being I believe not, Monsieur. But the sooner my suspicions are either confirmed or refuted by hard evidence the better for all involved.”
The rubbish-clogged drainage ditch burgeoned into a swollen stream, overflowing its muddy banks and rising to the level of the rickety footbridge. The steep trail winding uphill from the old military road to Le Boudin’s compound had transformed into a waterfall, cascading into the flooded channel. Delphine chose a longer, more circuitous route round the gradual incline of the reverse slope.
She grabbed a stout fallen poplar limb to aid in her climb. Her bonnet and waterproof cape provided protection from the elements; leaning forward with the wind and rain at her back, she lifted her skirts in her left hand while her right worked the staff; her leather boots slogged on through the muck as Delphine made slow and steady progress to the summit.
She picked up her pace as the ground leveled. Her eyes scanned the ridge for signs of life, but all the inhabitants, human and beast alike, had sought shelter indoors. Only Bazaine remained outside, crouching in a dry spot on the leaky porch, faithfully guarding his master’s doorway.
Delphine bent over and patted the dog’s upturned head. “You haven’t forgotten me, have you old boy?” She stroked Bazaine’s muzzle and he licked her hand in greeting. Then she knocked on the door and shouted, “Hey Papa Le Boudin, it’s me. Let me in before I drown!”
“Come in Delphine,” he called out “and shut the door behind you!”
She found Le Boudin at his table, eating a light meal and reviewing his receipts with one of his women. Delphine recognized her immediately. “Hello, Marie. You remember me, don’t you?”
The portly, ruddy-cheeked, good-natured woman of forty welcomed Delphine with a gap-toothed smile. “Of course I do, my dear. I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to get soaked. We were just going over the accounts. Business is good; we’ll make a fine profit this year.” She got up on her feet and scrutinized the girl, from dripping bonnet to mud-caked boots. “Now, you better get out of those damp clothes and hang them up to dry. I’ll fetch one of my dresses, though God knows it’ll be big enough for two of you.”
Le Boudin laughed and patted Marie’s broad backside. “Three of her at least, and with room to spare!”
Marie slapped the offending hand and grinned. “You old bastard.” Then to Delphine: “Now take off your bonnet and cloak and have a seat. I’ll be back,” she turned to Le Boudin with a gleam in her eye, “with one of my little daughter’s dresses.”
“Take your time, old woman. The girl and me have some personal business to discuss.”
Marie nodded knowingly, covered herself with a woolen blanket, and ran out into the storm. Delphine shook out her hat and cape and hung them on the back of a chair. She sat down and was about to speak when Le Boudin piped up: “Wait a minute. I’ve got rum. You need a stiff drink to keep out the chill.” He fetched a black bottle and then filled two glasses with the fiery liquor. “Now take it down in one gulp. It’s like medicine.”
She drank, then coughed and cleared her throat. “What is this stuff? Tastes like lamp fluid mixed with roach poison.”
Le Boudin laughed and re-filled their glasses. “It’s rotgut, sure enough, but it ain’t as bad as all that. Do you want me to send out for vintage champagne?”
“All right, Papa, make it Veuve Clicquot, 1878. Seriously, I’m sure you didn’t bring me out in this weather to see who could crack the lamest joke.”
Le Boudin frowned. He stared at the liquor in his glass for a moment, swirled it round and took another swig. “Frankly, I didn’t expect you so soon, but it’s just as well you came. You were right about Jojo. He’s up to no good, and the cops are already onto him. Rousseau’s having him shadowed, but he’s put a fool on Jojo’s tail. And the clown’s working for someone. Moïse and his brother Nathan tracked them to an abandoned mill near Sacré-Cæur. Nathan tailed the other guy down to the boulevard, but he lost him.
“We’re going to keep shadowing them to see if we can figure out their game. And I want to remind you of your promise. Take the information to Lefebvre and keep your nose out of trouble. Jojo’s bad enough, but we don’t know anything about this guy he’s working for. He may be the bastard who killed your friend. If that’s the case, you’d best leave him to the cops.”
Delphine looked down at her hands; she fiddled with the catch on her bag. “I gave my word, Papa. But if he is the guy, I’d like to get him alone, just long enough to give him a taste of my razor.”
Le Boudin leaned over the table and lifted her chin so he could look her in the eye. “I understand, Delphine, but get those thoughts out of your head. Remember what I told you about revenge.” She stared back at him and he saw tears running from the corners of her eyes. He wiped them away gently and stroked her cheek. “That girl must have meant an awful lot to you.”
“She did, Papa. She did.” Delphine was silent for a moment. Then: “When I left here I felt awfully sorry for myself, and it wasn’t your fault. You and mama were good to me. But—but I always wanted something more. I imagined a world outside the barriers; somewhere away from the Zone. I thought nothing could be worse than this place, but I was wrong. You warned me about the world, and so did others, but like most kids I wouldn’t listen. So I ran away straight into the arms of Jojo—and others.
“I learned the hard lessons of the streets, how to fight, roll with the punches, make do, and survive. Then I met Virginie. I thought I knew suffering, but she opened my eyes to real agony, unspeakable cruelty—” Delphine could not continue. She covered her face with her hands. “We’re in hell. There’s no justice, no mercy, no love. Why bring a child into such a world as this?”
Le Boudin got up from his chair, walked round, and took her into his arms. “I’m sorry, my girl, so sorry.” He let her cry for a while until she regained her self-control. Then, he looked at her and smiled. “You’ll stay the night with us, won’t you? Don’t walk all the way back to Montmartre in this filthy weather.”
Delphine took a handkerchief from her bag, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. “I’m sorry, Papa, I’m dancing tonight at the Moulin.”
He grimaced and shook his head. “For the love of God, you’d go back out into this shit for a few francs? Those degenerates can do without ogling your legs and behind for one night.”
Delphine smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Papa. It’s my living, it’s what I do. Anyway, we have a few hours to visit and talk of old times. Hopefully, the rain will let up before I have to go.”
Marie entered the room, dumped her soaked blanket on a chair, and removed a patched brown dress from a canvas bag. “Try this on, dearie. I think it’ll fit all right. My Jacqueline’s just about your size.”
Delphine walked over and embraced Marie, her arms barely able to encircle the big woman’s waist. “Thank you, my dear, and please thank Jacqueline for me. I’ll make it up to her.”
“Oh, it ain’t nothing, dearie; just an old rag.”
Delphine laughed. “Well thanks anyway. And you can kiss me now. I’m not as wet as I was.”
“Bless you, girl, you’re quite dry, but now I’m soaked through!”
An intense white beam streamed down from an arc light situated high up in the rafters. Standing far below within the lamp’s gleaming aura, the ringmaster, a tall, stout man tricked out in white tie and tailcoat, and sporting an enormous handlebar moustache, snapped his whip with authority. A large white horse trotted round the perimeter of the sawdust-covered ring, its canter accompanied by a brass band playing a sprightly galop. A female acrobat in ballerina costume rode the horse bareback. Following the initial circuit, the woman rose to her feet gracefully, circled the ring once more, then executed a handstand, first on both hands and then on one to a round of enthusiastic applause.