‘Your cousin sends his regards and promises he’ll be in touch.’
‘Good. Good. I look forward to that.’
‘I’m afraid we’ll have to tell him any meeting between the two of you will have to be put on hold. Officially you’re in the custody of the Police Judiciaire in a lock-up somewhere on the island. No one but the three of us knows you’re here and that’s how it must remain until we’ve cleared you.’
‘Very well. Sensible precaution. He’ll be the first to understand and approve. Very security-minded, naturally. Next?’
‘Now, sir.’ Joe gathered his thoughts. The next bit was not so straightforward. ‘I’m hoping you feel able to supply us with the name of someone who witnessed your appearance at the theatre and can vouch for the fact that you were in your place across the width of the hall when the murder occurred – assuming it to have happened during the finale?’
‘Yes, I do. Been thinking about it. Racking the old brain, you know. And the name’s come back to me: Wilberforce Jennings.’
‘Who?’ Joe was startled. This was not what he was expecting. He’d been leading George to expand on the information he had slid into – or allowed to escape into – the conversation in Fourier’s office. Joe’s mind was running on a beautiful and unscrupulous woman with a penchant for Campari-soda. And murder and blackmail and extortion and deceit. But here was Wilberforce Jennings stealing the spotlight.
‘Old school chum. “Willie”, we called him. I was surprised to see him. You know how you gaze around the audience to see if there’s anyone you know – well, there was. Jennings. The most frightful little creep, I remember, and I may have completely misidentified him, but he was in the sixth row of the stalls at the end of the row. No idea whether he recognized me. You could always ask, I suppose. If you can find him. He may have allowed his gaze to rest on me in the concluding moments.’
‘When he could be looking at la belle Josephine and a hundred chorus girls wearing not so much as a bangle between them? Worth a try, I suppose. You never know your luck,’ said Joe doubtfully. ‘Can you oblige, Bonnefoye?’
‘Easy. We have access to records of every foreigner using accommodation in the city. There are about six hotels the English prefer to use. We’ll try them first.’
‘And now, George, we’ve got you in your box . . . The chairs – pulled into a companionable huddle . . . the tray of convivial drinks served and consumed. Tell us about your mystery guest. Who was she? Why are you twisting about in an effort to keep her identity from Fourier?’
Irritated by George’s dogged silence, he tried a full assault. ‘Alice Conyers paid you a visit, did she? Yes, I knew she’d survived. Though I had no idea she was in France.’
‘It’s hard to imagine, eh, Joe? You’re expecting your cousin and there bobs up at your elbow a girl you thought had died in terrible circumstances five years ago. I was never more surprised! She seemed well and happy and sent you her fond regards.’
‘She has good reason to remember me with fondness,’ said Joe bitterly. ‘But why did she show herself to you? I always thought the two of you were pretty thick but . . . all the same . . .’ Too late he heard the tetchiness amounting to jealousy in his voice. ‘A risky manoeuvre on her part, I’d have thought,’ he said more firmly. ‘You could have arrested her!’
‘I did. She escaped.’ George was breezily defiant.
Joe snorted in exasperation. ‘Sir, are you saying you had the woman in your grasp and you let her loose?’
‘That’s about it. Yes. And, Joe, that’s exactly where I want her – on the loose. At liberty, to go where she pleases.’
Into the astonished silence he set about his explanation. With rather less than his usual confidence he spoke: ‘I’ve resigned my position, you know. I’m free for the first time in my life of duty, protocol, intrigue, politicking of any kind. I’m not so old I can’t enjoy the rest of my life. Got all my faculties and bags of energy. Knees not wonderful but I hear they can do amazing things in Switzerland with knees. Funnily enough, at the very moment when you might say my life was hanging by a thread, I’ve realized the value of it. It came to me on the bank of the Seine this morning. I’m going to make good use of whatever years are left to me and I’m not starting on them by taking the life or liberty of another. Especially not a woman like Alice whom you rightly surmise I have always held in esteem and affection.’
The expression in the blue eyes he turned on Joe was, for once, not distorted by guile, amusement or cynicism. The eyes were direct and piercing and Joe found it hard to meet them. How could he accuse George of negligence in letting Alice Conyers go free when he’d done exactly the same thing himself five years before?