CHAPTER 15
CAFé DE FLORE, PARIS
It was the morning after her return from Tours and Charlie James switched her weight from one leg to the other as she waited for her unofficial appointment to pull up to the kerb.
When a black limousine parked in front of her, Charlie opened the passenger door to the immaculate green bun and beaming face of Lady Ashworth.
The designer shuffled to the far side and patted the seat.
‘Bonjour, Just Charlie. Hop in and close the door. Cardo, I call her Just Charlie as that’s how she introduced herself to me, instead of being called Charlotte.
But trust me, Charlie is not Just anything.
’ She turned back to Charlie. ‘Dear Monsieur Cardo has agreed to speak with you … anonymously of course.’
Charlie climbed into the vehicle, taking care not to knock her head, and swung the car door closed. It was heavier than it looked.
‘Merci, Monsieur Cardo, I’m grateful,’ she said, eyeing the silver star on his lapel. ‘I understand the poor victim in Tours was a colleague. I’m sorry for your loss.’
Cardo gave a solemn nod and crossed himself.
‘Would you mind telling me how long Pierre Jouet worked with your company?’
‘More than a decade,’ replied Cardo, who spoke in clipped English as he fidgeted in his seat.
‘Did Jouet ever give you the impression that he worked with anyone unsavoury? Was he tied up in something, gambling maybe? Jeux? I’m trying to think of anything his wife would not be aware of.’
Cardo shook his head. ‘Non. He was a good man. Très bon.’ The chauffeur patted his heart and looked sad.
‘Did you have much to do with Jouet outside work?’
‘Non. We tend to keep to ourselves. By the time we clean the cars and get home, our days are long.’
Lady Ashworth had the grace to pick at something on her glove and avoid her chauffeur’s eyes, but Charlie saw the edge of her mouth twitch.
‘When I spoke with Lady Ashworth, she mentioned that you might perchance have had an opportunity to look at the bookings list. Are you able to tell me who booked Jouet’s car?’
‘There was just one name for this booking. Ludwig. I’m uncertain if it was his last name or given name. I asked the secretary who takes the bookings on the phone, and she said it was for a single passenger. He sounded German.’
This was circumstantial evidence—no real link between her two latest stories.
There were many Germanic men in the world.
Hell, she’d even been writing stories on the German Chancellor and the German economy this past week.
But quietly, in her gut, Charlie made a link …
even if the police and her editor would frown upon her jumping twenty steps ahead.
Her instincts had always served her well, so she would play the press game but dig deeper off the books. Charlie was going to lure the monster out of the cave. Violet would be proud!
‘Did the passenger, the German, happen to leave an address?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Non,’ replied Cardo, moustache twitching. Charlie’s time was almost up. She was losing him.
‘We’ll be on our way in a moment, Monsieur Cardo,’ soothed Lady Ashworth. ‘I mustn’t be late for my meeting at the Louvre.’
‘If I could trouble you with one last question. Where was the pick-up and drop-off booked for?’
‘It was a day booking with a full tank of fuel. Could have driven hours. Pick-up and drop-off was the same spot: L’Opéra.’
‘Wonderful.’ Lady Ashworth smiled as she smoothed an imaginary strand of hair into her bun. ‘That’s all, Just Charlie. I trust Monsieur Cardo has been helpful.’
‘Very. Merci, Monsieur Cardo. Merci, Lady Ashworth, for your time this morning. So kind.’ Charlie lifted her hand to Cardo to indicate she’d open the door herself and swung her legs out.
As she slid off the deep leather seat into the sunshine, she turned and smiled sweetly at Cardo.
‘Oh, one last thing. Do you think it is possible for you to get a copy of the bookings sheet—names, destinations, addresses—for the ninth of August?’
Lady Ashworth’s face creased with confusion before she looked up and met Charlie’s eyes. She gave a grateful nod but said nothing.
The ninth of August was the date Maisy Bell had disappeared.
Charlie was going to cover the story of the dead Pierre Jouet, but she would not stop seeking answers for Maisy Bell and her family.
The Times, September 1938
Charlie James, Paris correspondent
New Details of chauffeur found dead in forest near Tours, France
The body of a 58-year-old man discovered in a forest on the outskirts of Tours last week has been officially identified as Paris Opéra Limousines driver Pierre Jouet.
The post-mortem confirmed that Jouet was killed by a bullet entering the base of his cranium. The weapon is suspected to be a handheld 9mm pistol.
Jouet was last seen alive at the pick-up point adjacent to the front steps of L’Opéra. His passenger spoke English with a thick German accent.
An unconfirmed witness has stated he saw Jouet in Montsoudun Woods, Tours, near the entrance of the forest. The victim was said to be enjoying a sleep, with a newspaper placed over his face.
Jouet was allegedly in the company of a tall man with dark hair, a strong whistle, blue eyes, a moustache and a German accent.
The Cité Metro and Versailles police stations are urgently seeking contact with this man.
They have no further comment at this time.
Pierre Jouet is survived by his wife, Anne-Marie, and children, Berta and Ian.