Strictly Taboo(50)
Le Diable got there late. He’d stopped calling himself by his real name, Fred Bartholemew, because it sounded weak.
As he crept into the small hall outside the bridal suite, he allowed himself a twinge of guilt for taking the time to eat a croissant with cheese before carrying out his contract.
He snuck into the small enclosure that looked into the Bridal Suite in the Hotel Magnifique an hour later than he wanted. The bride and groom made love in a slow and tender manner. Le Diable didn’t understand it or want any part of it.
He took a small blowgun from his pocket and inserted a dart with a yellow substance on the tip into the blowgun. He waited until the groom dropped his head down beside her cheek. He sent the soundless dart into the side of the bride's neck. The effect was immediate. Her eyes became sightless. Her arms dropped to the bed, and her legs fell off her husbands back. The groom didn't notice. He continued his attentions to her now dead body.
Le Diable loaded the blowgun with another dart with a yellow substance on the tip. When the groom raised his head to kiss his new bride, he got a dart in the neck instead. He, also, was dead within three seconds.
Le Diable killed for money or fun. This was money. The groom was the son of a well-know aristocrat and had disobeyed his father’s orders by marrying the wrong woman.
Chapter Two
Le Diable took an envelope which seemed far too thin to contain ten thousand francs from the shaking fingers of the groom’s father. It troubled him as he gave his apology. “I am devastated, Monsieur, I was held up in traffic and couldn’t get to them in time. You wanted both of them killed before the groom could make her his wife. I was unable to deliver on that promise.” He stopped talking and paid attention to the envelope in his hand.
He looked inside. "Monsieur, we agreed on cash. This is a cheque. It is unacceptable. It can be traced to me. It has my name on it."
"Sorry about that. The cheque is all I have. I may be able to raise the money by next week."
Le Diable bowed. "I will see you then." He turned to leave. As he walked away, he drew the blowgun out of his coat pocket and fitted it with a dart with a yellow substance on the tip. He turned, put the blowgun to his lips and three seconds later the unreliable employer was dead.
Le Diable went through the house and found family heirlooms worth half of his price. He considered it good enough
Ten minutes after he left his dead former employer, he sat across from a lawyer, John Stevenson, whom he considered a very dull American indeed. To his side, sat another lawyer, Yves Durrant, an equally dull Frenchman. Like all lawyers, they dealt in words not action. Le Diable considered them only a little less useless than a lamp with a whistle.
Le Diable would gladly have tied the two men with him to the bottom of the ocean which, as the joke goes, is a good start. They kept explaining the operation to him.
He lost his patience. "Stop. This constant repetition wears me out. I know the mission. Your company, Angli/Iraqi Oil wants to supply oil to French troops at an inflated price. The Minister of Finance, Henri Volan, has blocked the operation because it is too expensive. You want me to find a tool to move M. Volan from his current position to one which will allow you to fill your pockets. You have told me that M. Volan has three daughters and a wife. That would seem the place to start. Right now, I need ten thousand francs."
They put it on the table in front of him, in 100 franc notes tied together with twine. The twine had been made into a bow on top of the little bundle.
Le Diable scooped it up and walked out.
Chapter Three
The maid discovered the bodies of the unfortunate newlyweds and called the police. Inspector Emil Girard leaned over the body of the bride, arranged on the bed with her arms crossed on her chest. He said, “What a sad event. The bride is truly beautiful. She should have had a happy life.”
Girard looked around the room and found the small closet. After a few seconds, he said, "Francois?" His second in command, Francois Fournier, said, "Yes, my Inspector."
"Write this down."
"Yes, sir."
“The killer crouched in a little closet in the bedroom. He wasn’t there long. Apparently, he wasn’t interested in the bride and groom consummating their marriage or he couldn’t take time to sit and watch. There is no distinctive smell in the bedroom, no signs of someone squirming while waiting for the happy couple to consummate their marriage. He came late, stayed only long enough to murder two innocent young people and ran away. Just a moment.”
Girard dropped quickly and adroitly to the floor. He kept himself suspended by his fingertips and the toes of his shoes. He looked along the floor. “There. A footprint, not large, with the markings of a man from the docks. Note, my friend, the excessive wear along the front of the soles. This is a man who spent the day pushing something heavy ahead of him.”