He climbed in behind the wheel and turned off the engine. ‘Well now – what do you have to tell me, Joe?’
‘Four others on the premises, you say?’ Bonnefoye was calm, enjoying the moment. ‘We found the rear exit and covered it. There’s a panier à salade round there blocking the alley and ten of our best boys raring to have a go. A section of the Vice Squad are on their way as well. They’ll go in and clear up. Um . . . heard the noise. Are we likely to put our feet in anything up there, Joe?’
‘I’m afraid so. One rather large casualty, bleeding copiously. Not our man – the doorman. Name’s Flavius. Not that he’s answering to it. Problem with his throat.’
‘It was self-defence!’ Alice spoke up firmly. ‘He was threatening me and the Commander had to shoot him.’
‘Much as I dislike contradicting a lady,’ said Bonnefoye pleasantly, ‘I have to say I think you’ve got that wrong, madame. Your guard was shot by one of the other bits of scum you keep about the place with the house gun. I expect if we search carefully we’ll find the . . .’
‘Luger,’ supplied Joe.
‘. . . Luger, yes. Wiped clean? Yes, of course. And we’ll establish that the fracas was no more than a fight over a girl. The usual. We’ll just have to wait and see which one confesses to what, won’t we? But I’m sure one of them will be only too pleased to assume responsibility. Do you want to stay and see the fun, Joe, or shall we take off for the Quai?’
‘Hold on a moment,’ said Joe, still getting his breath back.
Alice had shrunk away from him as he pushed himself into the back seat alongside her.
He stared at her and burst out laughing. ‘Two minutes ago this woman, you’d have sworn, was on her way to the Ritz, sporting the last word in cocktail frocks! And now look at her! Milady de Winter! Fully caped. Booted and spurred probably too if I could be bothered to check. And –’ he kicked a soft leather bag she’d pushed away behind her calves – ‘packed and ready for the weekend, I see. Now where were you off to, I wonder?’
‘Not planning on helping us with our enquiries,’ said Bonnefoye with mock resentment. ‘I was watching her. She tore into the café and spoke to the barman. He handed that stuff to her from under the bar.’
‘My exit bag. I always have it to hand,’ she explained sweetly.
‘And what were you intending to do at the Gare de Lyon, Gateway to the South? From where so many adventures start?’ Joe asked. ‘Return to your old haunts on the Riviera?’
‘Change taxis? Head north . . . or east . . . or west,’ she said, tormenting him. ‘You’ll never know. Not sure I do myself. Joe, are you ever going to introduce me to your charming young colleague? He seems to have the advantage of me.’
‘No. You don’t need to know him. You just need to do as he says.’
He had counted on annoying her, but Joe was taken aback by the fury in the glare she directed at him.
A small black police car screamed to a halt a few inches in front of them.
‘Here he is,’ said Bonnefoye. ‘My associate in Vice. I’ll just leave you for a moment while I fill him in then we can leave. We’ll make for a nice quiet place and put a few questions to the lady. If she answers correctly and reasonably, it may be that she can go free – after signing a statement, of course. If we’re concerned by what she has to say then she may have to proceed as far as Commissaire Fourier. Won’t be a minute.’
‘How long will he be?’ Alice’s voice was strained. He could hardly see her face. She had flung the hood over her head and was shrinking down into the upholstery. Her eyes were scanning the crowds milling about on the pavement. ‘We must leave now, Joe! Call him back! He – you – have no idea . . .!’
Joe was reminded of George’s remark about Alice’s strange behaviour. ‘. . . eyes quartering the room like a hunter,’ he’d said and then corrected himself: ‘No – more like the prey. There was someone out there in the auditorium . . .’
And there was someone out there at this moment on the pavement, coming closer. He began to catch Alice’s fear. He spoke softly to her. ‘Alice, we are surrounded by at least a dozen assorted flics. You’re quite safe. For the moment.’
She looked at him, incredulous. ‘You think that will stop him?’
Uneasy, he muttered, ‘Damn! I haven’t got a gun. I really did remember to wipe the Luger and drop it a suitable distance from the body. And – oh God! – I didn’t get my Browning back. No time, even if I’d thought of it.’