Chapter 11
Emile took a step back, glancing fearfully from me to Gabriella.
If he believed Gabriella would gush to me that of course Emile had nothing to hide, he was mistaken. She fixed Emile with a steely gaze and waited for him to explain.
“It had nothing to do with Signor Gallo’s death,” Emile said in a rush. “I assure you. I promise.”
“Then why not say you were with Claude last night?” I asked in bafflement. “It might have saved him being arrested.”
“Because he swore me to secrecy.” Emile’s face had gone beet red, rivaling the colors of the deepening sunset. “We swore to each other. None were to know what we did.”
“I fail to see why,” I said. “Drinking wine with your cousin in a disreputable tavern is not grounds for imprisonment. Or even much shame, though I’m certain your mother and Carlotta would disapprove. What time did you arrive at the tavern? Not long after Gallo departed, I assume.”
“A bit after nine, I think,” Emile said in a small voice. “Claude told me he’d argued with Signor Gallo and that the man had run off in a temper.”
Gabriella nodded at me. “Signor Gallo turned up at the comtesse’s at about half past ten. But Claude must have been very worried about his encounter with Signor Gallo to keep it quiet. Or perhaps Claude met him somewhere after that?” she asked Emile.
Emile shook his head adamantly. “No, Claude never saw him again. He and I drank wine in the tavern and then departed. We were together the rest of the night and ended up at home. Neither of us saw Signor Gallo. That is the truth.”
His statement and agitation rang with sincerity.
“I believe you, Emile,” I said. “What I do not understand is why you did not simply state this when Claude was arrested. Or tell me in your note. You thought I’d rush to the gendarmerie and use my powers of persuasion to talk Vernet into releasing Claude, did you not?
You never thought I’d speak to Claude, or that he’d break your pact and admit he spent the evening with you.
Which he did not, by the way. The tavern keeper told me. ”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Emile said in misery.
“Most of the time, I would agree that how two gentlemen spend their evenings out is their own business, but this involves a murder,” I said sternly.
“Both of you are acting very suspiciously, and Vernet is not completely satisfied. He will continue to pry, and so I must as well. If you confide in me, I can perhaps deflect Vernet’s attentions from you. ”
Emile was no fool—he must see how his and Claude’s attempt at secrecy did not exude innocence. I hoped that their vow of silence didn’t have anything to do with clandestine visits to ladies, but I would press Emile, no matter what. Gabriella deserved to know whether she was marrying a libertine.
Gabriella remained firmly beside me. “Please tell us, Emile,” she said quietly.
Emile deflated, shoulders drooping in sorrow and mortification.
“We went to Gallo’s lodgings,” he said in a near whisper. “We knew he would not be there, because Claude had angered him into going to the comtesse’s chateau.”
I heard Gabriella’s intake of breath while I gaped at him.
“Why the devil did you go to his lodgings?” I demanded in amazement. “A moment—if you first made certain that Gallo would not be there, then you must have been seeking something. What?”
Emile’s eyes swam with tears. “Oh, sir, please do not make me tell you.”
“If you do not tell me, I will have to guess, and so will Gabriella. Were you looking for something that would discredit Gallo? And why? I thought Signora Ruggeri was finished with him. She certainly wasn’t happy with him turning up at the chateau.”
“She despises him now, Claude says.” Emile wiped at the tears that continued forming.
“She still speaks to Claude?” I asked. “Is that how he knew she would be trying to enter the comte’s home last night?”
“Yes.” Emile’s voice was cracked. “But no, she was not quite finished with Gallo. She aided him.”
“Aided him in what way? What were you searching for, Emile?” I took the forbidding tone I’d used with my soldiers when they’d tried to hide their transgressions.
Emile sniffled but squared his shoulders. “I did not want you to know this, Gabriella, but I suppose I must be truthful. If you wish to release yourself from me once I tell you, I will understand.” Emile’s words belied the wretchedness that seeped through every syllable.
“Is it so very bad?” Gabriella asked him gently.
“Signor Gallo was threatening my family,” Emile said, so softly I had to lean to hear him. “He said he knew what they had done and could prove it, if they didn’t pay him.”
“That is maddeningly vague,” I said, straightening. “What are they supposed to have done?”
“I don’t know.” Emile flung out one hand in a dramatic gesture.
“That is the truth, Captain. I have no idea. Neither does Claude. We searched Gallo’s rooms top to bottom but found nothing—no papers or letters or whatever he had—that mentioned my family.
Nothing of any kind. Either he lied to them or he hid the things very well. ”
I fell silent as I considered the implications of what Emile had confessed.
First, Gallo, rather than being simply a spurned lover and a nuisance about town, was apparently also a blackmailer. Whether he did this for a living or had seized an opportunity remained to be seen.
Second, the Deveres had a secret that they’d not wanted anyone, especially a rogue like Gallo, to discover. Claude and Emile, upon learning of Gallo’s threats, had met in La Guillotière, made certain Gallo went elsewhere, and searched his rooms for the evidence in order to spare their family.
Emile’s declaration that he did not know exactly what the secret was rang true. I wondered if Claude knew, but from Claude’s demeanor today, I doubted it. Neither young man had understood what to look for and so had found nothing.
Whatever Gallo had known, I was certain it involved the older generation of Deveres, not the younger.
Gallo as a blackmailer explained Fernand’s shock when he found Gallo dead, as well as his sudden animosity to me. If Gallo had been blackmailing the Devere brothers, Fernand would fear that the secret would come to light, especially if the gendarmes investigated his murder.
Fernand had also worried that Claude had dispatched Gallo, perhaps in a misguided attempt to protect the family honor. He might fear that one of his brothers had done the same.
My imagination went further, supposing Fernand murdered Gallo himself. He’d certainly not been happy I’d been present to find the body.
“Bloody hell,” I said softly.
Emile continued to look ashamed and dejected. Gabriella left her place at my side to flow to his and take his hand.
“Poor Emile,” she said with such love I had to glance down the hill to the rather splendid view. “I wish you’d have told me.”
“I didn’t want to burden you,” Emile answered hollowly. “It is a family matter.”
Gabriella leaned into him. “I will be family very soon, my love. It is a burden I will gladly help you carry.”
I did not wish for Gabriella to be burdened at all, but the tender gratitude Emile turned on her told me she’d known exactly what to say to him.
To my relief, Brewster descended the path above us to interrupt the unnerving tableau.
Emile flushed and gently disentangled himself from Gabriella, but Gabriella beamed her smile at Brewster, not in the least embarrassed.
“What do you advise, sir?” Emile asked me in English with flattering trust. “I suppose I should tell all this to Captain Vernet, to prove Claude is innocent.”
“Wouldn’t advise it,” Brewster said. “Never give up too much information to the beaks. They’ll use it against you, soon as you draw your next breath. What has happened? You look terrified, lad.”
“It appears that Signor Gallo was blackmailing the Deveres,” Gabriella said before Emile or I could decide what to tell him. “We don’t know why.”
Brewsters brows rose. “Was he, now? Dangerous game, blackmail. Blokes try to blackmail His Nibs all the time, but he never responds to it. Disgusting business.”
His Nibs was James Denis, a man I’d never dare to blackmail without a long, hard think about it first. I imagined anyone who tried it came to a bad end.
Emile’s expression was anxious. “If we tell Captain Vernet, it might help him find the killer. Signor Gallo might have been blackmailing other people as well.”
Innocent lad—he’d point Vernet directly at his own family.
“You indicated that Signora Ruggeri aided Gallo,” I said. “Even after they ceased their love affair.”
Emile nodded. “According to Claude. I don’t know if he meant about the blackmailing.”
I still believed Signora Ruggeri to be the most likely culprit in the man’s murder, no matter that she’d slept at the comtesse’s chateau. She might have slipped out with none the wiser, or she might have instructed her coachman, whom Fernand said was a brute, to do the deed for her.
I could not risk, however, that Vernet would draw different conclusions.
“I suggest I return with you to Gallo’s rooms and try to find what has your uncles and father so concerned,” I said. “Before Vernet’s men find it, that is. If there is truly nothing there, then your family has little to fear.”
Emile appeared to be both relieved I was taking command and alarmed by my suggestion.
“What if the gendarmes have taken over his lodgings?” he asked nervously.
“Then we will discover a way around them. Brewster will help us.”
Brewster grimaced at my pronouncement but he nodded. “I know ways to keep the beaks off our scent.”
“Beaks?” Emile’s forehead puckered. “You keep using that word.”
“Magistrates,” Brewster explained. “The watch, the gendarmes, the Runners—whatever they’re called. Because they stick their beaks in everywhere, right?”
Emile looked uncertain, but he nodded.
“Gabriella,” I said, trying sound like a strict father. “La Guillotière will be no place for you.”
Gabriella regarded me serenely. “I did not expect to accompany you. I promised Maman I would stay in tonight, and that is what I will do. I won’t have much longer to be at home, will I?”
Emile’s sudden blush made me both want to laugh and to shake him.
I turned away to keep my impulses in check. “We’d better go at once,” I said. “Vernet is an astute man and possibly has turned over Gallo’s place already.”
“True enough,” Brewster said. “But it can’t hurt to have a butcher’s.”
I was pleased Brewster agreed. I wanted him with me, not only because he could protect Emile in La Guillotière, but because the man had an uncanny knack of turning up things that others overlooked.
When I’d first met him, he’d been ransacking my house in Norfolk, where he’d found silver pieces for which the nearby villagers had been searching for years.
The four of us trudged back down the hill toward the house, Gabriella now firmly at Emile’s side. Once in the drive, while our hired coach creaked forward to fetch us, Gabriella squeezed Emile’s hands, kissed me goodnight, said her farewells to Brewster, and skimmed into the house.
Brewster rode on the back of the coach as we headed to Lyon, which left Emile awkwardly inside the carriage with me. He continued to apologize for not confiding in me right away, and I spent the journey trying to reassure him.
The coachman deposited us on the La Guillotière side of the Rh?ne. Emile led Brewster and me through narrow streets beyond the tavern in which he and Claude had met, to a crumbling building whose windows were closed with black shutters.
The last of the evening’s light faded as Emile rapped on the front door.
This was wrenched open by a gnarled personage whose sex I could not determine. I saw only breeches and a tattered coat, in spite of the warm weather, and gloves on cramped fingers.
When the creature raised her head, I realized it was a woman, her grizzled hair framing a curiously plump and pretty face.
She looked Emile up and down with steel-gray eyes. “It’s you again, is it?”
“Yes, Madame Jourdain,” Emile said politely. “Do you mind if I go once more into Signor Gallo’s rooms?”
“Why? Do ye want to let them?” Madame Jourdain spat on the pavement, too close to my boot for my liking. “Gendarmes have been all through his lodging and tell me not to rent it right away, but I can’t afford to leave it empty.”
“Well, no, Madame, but …”
When the woman started to shut the door, I stepped forward. “My man might be interested.” I jerked a thumb at Brewster.
The woman scowled at Brewster, who scowled back, uncertain what we’d said. Finally, she gave me a curt nod and flung the door open.
“He knows the way.” Madame Jourdain took a jingling key from her pocket and held it out to Emile. “Was the signor’s great friend.” She emphasized the last words and cackled unpleasantly.
Emile flushed, pretending to ignore her. He led the way across the hallway’s very dirty tile floor and up a rickety staircase.
We ascended this all the way to the top of the house, the air growing warmer and stuffier as we went. It must be suffocating on a hot day.
The door Emile paused before looked solid enough, with an iron handle and a stout lock.
This door stood open a crack. The wood around the lock hadn’t been broken, but the room had been entered, probably by someone good with a picklock.
I started to push it open, but Brewster shouldered his way past me to do it himself. The door’s wood grated against the uneven floor, startling the person already inside.
We both stilled when a man abruptly straightened from an open trunk in the middle of the floor to gaze back at us.
It was Colonel Moreau, my old enemy from the wars, the man I’d supposed myself finished with.