‘And what does this Mimi want from me?’
‘She wants your brains, my good man. She loves to read about your daring and perilous investigations. You have become her alpha and her omega. Luckily, I’m not a jealous man. By the way, have you got anything to drink?’
‘Just water. Are you going to tell me why you’re here or not?’ fumed Victor.
Laumier settled himself comfortably in the armchair.
‘I shall be brief. Her cousin Louise Fontane, more commonly known as Loulou, hasn’t been seen now for about three weeks. She’s left her job, her home likewise, and not a day goes by when Mimi doesn’t nag me: “Go and see Monsieur Legris! Beg him to do something! He’ll find her, I know he will!” In a word, she’s driving me mad, and I’ve surrendered. You can name your price, within reason … Don’t look at me like that! Our materialist society works on the basis that each man has his price. I am simply asking what yours is. I wouldn’t dream of taking up your precious time without offering you a modest sum in return.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘You do work as a private detective, don’t you?’
There was a clatter of footsteps and Tasha burst in.
‘Darling, I know I promised not to disturb you, but I couldn’t resist—’
She stopped short at the sight of Laumier.
‘Good morrow, my charming fellow artist. Have you any idea of the rumours that are flying around Montmartre? It’s a scandal! People are actually suggesting that the superb and talented Tasha Kherson has got hitched to a bookish type who prides himself on solving crimes. She has confused love with the illusion of security and now she’s trapped; she’s done for! I denied it all, naturally.’
‘How did you hear we were married?’
‘Bibulus on Rue Tholozé is a veritable den of gossip. The owner, Firmin, is in cahoots with the deputy mayor of the ninth, and he spends all his time playing billiards at the Chien Qui Tête. Anyhow, my dear, anybody could have read the banns outside the mayor’s office. You could at least have invited me to raise a glass of champagne with you. I would have brought some confetti.’
Looking very pleased with himself, Laumier examined his fingernails.
‘I bet you’ve been going around telling everyone!’
‘I, speak ill of friends? Never! You wound me.’
‘Did you come all the way here just to tell me that? What do you want?’
‘You, darling girl.’
Tasha could smell smoke in the air, even though Victor had stealthily stubbed out his cigarette and hidden it behind a pile of books. She eyed them suspiciously. What were they plotting, these two, who were usually at daggers drawn?
‘Darling, when you have a minute, could you possibly come and give me some advice?’ she asked Victor.
She left, followed by Kochka, who had just emerged from under the bed.
‘You’re a lucky fellow, Legris. She’s got some character to her, your little woman. Ah, true love! A cure for solitude or a ball and chain?’
‘No, no and no!’
‘That doesn’t answer my question, Legris.’
‘No to Mademoiselle Lestocart’s request.’
‘Mimi, just Mimi. She’ll be awfully disappointed and will make my life a perfect misery.’
‘Why do you stay with her, if you despise the married state so much?’
‘Out of habit. For me it’s a cure for solitude and a ball and chain, but as soon as it doesn’t suit me any more, it’ll be goodbye Mimi, adios, ene maitia,13 I’m off to Spain and I’ll send you a pair of castanets. Won’t you think again, Legris? If I dig deep into my pockets, I can dredge up twenty francs to offer you – I’ve just sold a painting.’
‘Money isn’t the problem.’
‘You’re lucky. I never have enough of it. Well, I’m going to take my leave. Until we next run into each other, Legris. And for goodness’ sake, try to smile – life’s a tremendous joke, you know.’
He caught sight of the painting of Tasha on the wall, which was his own work.
‘At least admit I have some talent! And the model really is very alluring!’
As soon as he was alone, Victor opened the window and, with trembling hands, lit a second cigarette.
Maurice Laumier crossed the little garden with its withering roses at top speed, and the stray cats which made their home there bolted as he passed. He reached his ground-floor apartment and turned the key in the lock. Mimi had vanished, and he decided to make the most of the time to add a few final touches to the portrait of the writer Georges Ohmet, which he had promised to deliver at the end of the month, and which was vital to the health of his finances. He hummed to himself as he concentrated on the tricky details of a curled moustache. The stove was burning, proof that the curvaceous brunette, already the subject of about fifteen of his paintings, would shortly return. And before long she did return, carrying a pot of soup and a four-day-old newspaper swiped from the fruit seller on Rue Norvins.
‘Did you speak to him?’ she asked, with a tremor in her voice.
Maurice Laumier wiped his hands on his sweater and poured the soup into a pan which he placed on the stove.
‘He says no.’
‘Even if we pay him?’
‘Especially if we pay him. It would be an insult to his honour. In any case, it’s better that way. Until they finally show me the colour of their money for this painting, we’re going to be living on the proverbial shoestring.’
Not listening to him, Mimi was crumpling the pages of the newspaper into little balls, to keep the fire in the stove going. Suddenly, she froze and pointed to a paragraph on one of the pages.
‘It’s her, I’m sure of it! Oh, how awful!’f
‘What’s the matter, my poppet?’ asked Laumier, as he filled two bowls with soup.
‘They’ve found a girl strangled near the La Villette abattoirs. Her body’s in the morgue. We’ve got to go there!’ she squealed, shaking her lover by the shoulder and making him choke on his soup.
‘But it’s miles away! Mimi, think about it, little bits of skirt like Loulou are ten a penny in this city – why should this particular one be her, exactly?’
‘I can just feel it. And it’s the first time she’s disappeared like that for so long. Ever since I came up to Paris, we’ve seen each other at least once a fortnight. We grew up together; we were like sisters!’
‘It’s true that “sister souls will find each other out if only they wait for one another”. Beautiful, isn’t it, my poppet? But I didn’t write it – Théophile Gautier did. Calm down and turn that tawdry rag into fuel.’
Mimi stamped her foot, seized one of his brushes, rubbed it on the paint palette, circled the article in red, folded the page into a small square and wrapped a shawl round her neck, over her warm woollen cape.
‘That’s so typical of you, that is!’ she burst out. ‘“Little bits of skirt like Loulou are ten a penny in this city.” Own up! As soon as my back’s turned, you’re carrying out a close inspection of some of those little bits of skirt, and still I stick with you! Nine times out of ten, the girls who prance around in this studio haven’t got a stitch on them by the time you actually start painting them!’
‘Come, come, these are big words for a