CHAPTER 20 #2
‘Oui, all three men were killed outdoors. Certainly their bodies were all found in forest areas. Makes sense, as it is out of sight of the public’s prying eyes.’
‘I have a feeling you are about to make a third point.’
‘Yes.’ Allard pulled a bloody business card from an evidence envelope. ‘This visiting card was beside Auclair’s body.’
Carl Schmidt
Rue Parc-Imperial, Nice
‘Who is Schmidt?’
‘We asked our colleagues in Nice to bring Mr Schmidt in for questioning last night. Obviously, the name led me to believe that he may have a German accent, or indeed be German. Or Swiss. It’s true, he is German.
But blond, rotund and small—if your velvet-clad traveller in Tours is to be believed, the German we are looking for is tall and dark-haired, with a moustache.
Still, witness accounts can be notoriously misleading, as you well know … ’
Charlie nodded.
‘Schmidt moved to Nice from Berlin about seven years ago, when his doctor prescribed sea air after a nasty bout of pneumonia. He’s lived there ever since.’
‘And?’ Charlie’s blood started pumping faster …
Finally they were getting some answers on one murder at least. She agreed with Allard that the links between the three murders were surprising, but there was no harm in trying to look at the cases a myriad of ways.
‘If Mr Schmidt is a travelling salesman, that might explain a link between the homicides in different locations.’ Charlie pointed to the map with red pins.
‘And it might explain the different drop locations for the bodies. A man who travels a lot would be familiar with back roads and forests as they would be near freeways.’
‘That is one explanation, yes,’ agreed Allard.
‘Is there an alternative? Perhaps Schmidt merely gave the card to either Auclair or his killer?’
‘It appears there were thousands of these cards printed. Schmidt claims he paid a small fee to his nephew, Alain Schmidt, to hand out his business cards to residences in local areas. And when he travelled. Spruiking Carl’s sales business all over France. Cheap advertising.’
‘Have the police spoken to the nephew, Alain Schmidt?’
‘No.’ Allard gnashed his teeth and knocked the desk twice with his knuckle.
‘This is where we hit another dead end. Schmidt had paid for Alain to stay at a hotel near his house in Nice. Ideal Hotel—far from ideal, trust me.’ He grimaced.
‘The young man must have been really low on money. It’s the kind of place people pay for by the hour, or stay overnight when there is nowhere else to go. ’
Charlie considered this for a moment. ‘How old is the nephew?’
‘Late thirties.’
Charlie shuddered. ‘Around the same age as the mysterious Louis—or Ludwig—from the Ritz.’
‘Yes, well, according to reception at the hotel, the young man hasn’t been seen since the fifth of September.
He had breakfast—coffee, at least—in the foyer and then went out for the day, presumably handing out business cards, but he never returned.
Hasn’t checked out and hasn’t come back for his things. ’
‘That’s four days ago.’
‘Neither Carl Schmidt nor the hotel have heard a peep.’
‘Would you say this is circumstantial evidence too, Detective? A missing German man in his late thirties? A card he was responsible for handing out found on a dead body?’
‘We checked the municipal offices, and Alain Schmidt has not registered at another hotel. No passport, no ID left anywhere.’
‘Do you think he is another victim? Or the perpetrator?’
‘Not ruling out either at this stage.’
‘There must be some way to trace him if he was living here. What about the ?le de Cité’s Carte-d’identité?’
‘We have a copy.’ He pulled out a sheet of paper with a photo of a tall, skinny man with hollow eyes and dark, scraggly hair that went past the collar.
Charlie studied the registration form that recorded the address for everyone living in France. ‘There’s no address there. And no previous address either.’ Frustrated, she scribbled down the only name and address on the form, which was Schmidt’s personal reference: Hugh Koch, 20 Rue de Clichy.
Allard sighed. ‘There’s no use copying that address.
My men have already been to Clichy. Herr Koch has moved on …
apparently to somewhere around Rue Véron.
’ He threw his hands in the air. ‘Between using all our resources chasing nomads, limousine companies and Schmidts, I need my men to circle back and comb the evidence we have on hand for these three bodies. The Metro Police are pressed with their own cases.’
Charlie considered her last conversation with Inspecteur Bernard and realised that her own goodwill with the Cité Metro Police was also on shaky ground. If she wanted to stay in Paris as an investigative reporter, she was going to have to rely on her own resources.
Allard sighed again and ran his fingers through his curls.
‘These wild goose chases are getting us nowhere, just annoying my men, who could be looking at facts. We are missing a central piece.’ He twisted the Tours pin on the map behind him.
‘But I believe there is a connection between all these homicides. The bullet in the back of the neck feels premeditated. The disposing of the bodies in the woods. Makes sense he would not go to the same place.’
‘He?’ queried Charlie. ‘You’re assuming the killer is male.’
Allard regarded Charlie for a moment, taking in her fitted shirt dress, and shivers ran up her back. She felt exposed. She hoped he didn’t sense it.
‘You strike me as very strong. Physically and mentally. Yet even you would struggle to carry a male body like Jouet’s several hundred metres through a park, then into the woods. He was eighty kilograms.’
‘Perhaps,’ Charlie conceded. ‘I haven’t tried.
’ She remembered tossing her siblings over her shoulders in a fireman hold and pretending to escape from an imaginary bushfire when she was a teenager.
Her younger brother adored that game. But carrying a grown man up to a kilometre?
A dead weight, no less. That would be tough, no question.
She snapped her notebook closed and said, ‘I know what I need to do next.’ She checked her watch—they had time to eat their croissants, and then she needed to make some notes, phone George to update him, and get ready for the evening. She had promised Violet she would be at the event tonight.
She coughed and asked, ‘Have you got a tuxedo?’