City of Darkness and Light(107)
The door opened slowly and I found myself staring not at Maxim Noah but at a face I recognized as Josette herself. In the flesh she looked even younger and more vulnerable, bleary eyed as if just woken from sleep. “Maxim not here,” she said in hesitant French.
“Oh, that’s a pity,” I replied. “Are you Josette?”
She looked wary. “Who told you?”
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I saw your painting when I was visiting Reynold Bryce,” I said and noted her startled reaction. “I had a message to give him from a relative in America. This relative wanted to buy one of his paintings. He showed me the painting he was working on. The lovely painting of you, ma petite.”
“Reynold Bryce is dead,” she said flatly.
“I heard. I’m so sorry. And before he could finish your portrait too. May I come in?” I didn’t wait for an invitation but barged past her and she didn’t try to stop me. “Still, I am sure you will find plenty of work as a model,” I went on. “You are so beautiful.”
She smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
“I also saw a picture of you that Monsieur Noah painted. Are there any more for sale?”
“He does not like to paint me,” she said. “He does not like me to be a model either.”
Then of course I wondered why I had been so dense. This was surely Jojo, the mistress of whom he’d been so protective.
“I understand.” I nodded. “He does not like other men to see you. But he allowed Monsieur Bryce to paint you with no clothes on.”
She was looking away now, one hand playing with her hair like an embarrassed child. “He did not know,” she whispered. “The money was good. I thought there would be no harm.”
“But there was harm, wasn’t there?” I said sharply. She looked up with frightened eyes. “That’s why you were upset and ran away that morning.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “Why do you come here?”
“A friend,” I said. “A friend who knows about the history and nature of Reynold Bryce. I know that he liked young girls. And he couldn’t keep his hands off them.”
“There were others?” she asked.
I nodded. “I know of another girl, about your age. He forced her to do bad things.”
“He tried to force me,” she said. “He said nobody need know and he’d pay me even more. Such a thing had never happened to me. I was terrified. I fought him, madame. I grabbed my clothes and fled. I went down the back stairs, the way I always had to come and go. Then I dressed myself rapidly and ran home. I was afraid he would come after me, but thank God he did not.”
I could understand her indignation but her naïveté was rather surprising. She did, after all, live in sin with a painter. “Did you tell Maxim when you came home?” I asked.
She nodded. “He saw how upset I was. So I told him what Mr. Bryce had tried to do. He was furious. I’ve never seen him so angry. He stormed out and was gone for hours.”
“Where is he now?”
“He has gone, madame. Gone to England.”
“To England? But I saw him on Saturday evening, at a party.”
She shook her head. “That is not possible, madame. He has been gone for several days now. He has friends over there who wrote to him and said he should join them. They will help him find somewhere to live, and then he will send for me. He said that Paris is not the right place for us. That the people here have no morals and it was not the right place for a young girl like me.”
“And yet you live with him? You’re his mistress?”
“His mistress? Who told you that?” she demanded, those dark eyes blazing suddenly. “I am his sister, madame. His little sister. The only family he has. He takes care of me.”
“Maxim Noah is your brother?” I asked.
She nodded. “My brother Jakob. A wonderful brother too. He brought me safely out of Russia when they burned our village. He promised to look after me the way our father would have done. We will have a good new life in England.”
“I hope you will, Josette,” I said. I looked at those big, wistful eyes and my heart bled for her.
* * *
As I left Le Bateau-Lavoir I tried to control my racing thoughts. If Maxim Noah was Josette’s brother, newly arrived from Russia, then he was definitely not Sid’s long-lost relative who had been in Paris for generations. So why had he tried to pretend he was her cousin? And why had he lied to his sister about going to England when he was still in Paris? One thing was sure—Maxim Noah was not to be trusted. It began to dawn on me that he, not Sid, was the young Jewish man seen running away from Reynold Bryce’s house. I had to go to the Sûreté immediately and tell them what I suspected. Inspector Henri would be angry with me, but he wouldn’t ignore what I had to say.