Paris
Roberta made it back to the 2CV, glancing over her shoulder and half expecting Michel Zardi to come tearing out of the doorway of the building after her. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely get the key in the lock.
As she drove back to her apartment she dialled 17 and was put through to police emergency. ‘I want to report an attempted murder. There’s a body in my flat.’ She gave her details in a breathless rush as she sped back through the traffic, driving with one hand.
An ambulance and two police cars were arriving just as she pulled up outside her building ten minutes later. The uniformed agents were headed by a brisk plainclothes inspector in his mid-thirties. He had thick dark hair brushed back from his brow, and his eyes were an unusually vivid green. ‘I’m Inspector Luc Simon,’ he said, staring at her intently. ‘You reported the incident?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you are…Roberta Ryder? US citizen. Have you identification?’
‘Now? OK.’ She fished in her bag and took out her passport and work visa. Simon ran his eyes over them and handed them back.
‘You have the title Dr. A medical doctor?’
‘Biologist.’
‘I see. Show us to the crime scene.’
They climbed the winding stairs to Roberta’s apartment, radios crackling in the stairway. Simon led the way, moving fast, his jaw hard. She trotted along behind him, followed by the half-dozen uniformed cops and a paramedic team headed by a police doctor carrying a case.
She explained the situation to Simon, watching his intense green eyes. ‘And then he fell, and came down on the knife,’ she said, gesticulating. ‘He was a big, heavy guy, must have landed really hard.’
‘We’ll take a full statement from you presently. Who’s up there now?’
‘Nobody, just him.’
‘Him?’
‘It, then,’ she said with a note of impatience. ‘The body.’
‘You left the body unattended?’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Where have you been?’
‘To visit a friend,’ she said, wincing to herself at the way it sounded.
‘Really…OK, we’ll talk about that later,’ said Simon impatiently. ‘Let’s see the body first.’
They arrived at her door, and she opened it. ‘Do you mind if I wait outside?’ she asked.
‘Where’s the body?’
‘He’s right there inside the door, in the hallway.’
The officers and medics went inside, Simon leading the way. A cop stayed outside on the landing with Roberta. She slumped against the wall and closed her eyes.
After a couple of seconds Simon stepped back out onto the landing with a severe yet weary expression. Are you sure this is your apartment?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. Why?’
Are you on any medication? Do you suffer from memory loss, epilepsy or any other mental disorder? Do you do drugs, alcohol?’
‘What are you talking about? Of course not.’
‘Explain this to me, then.’ Simon grabbed her by the arm and thrust her firmly into the doorway, pointing and looking at her expectantly. Roberta gaped. The detective was pointing at her hall floor.
Empty. Clean. The body was gone.
‘You have an explanation?’
‘Maybe he crawled away,’ she muttered. What, and cleaned up the blood trail after himself? She rubbed her eyes, head spinning.
Simon turned to stare hard at her. ‘Wasting police time is a serious offence. I could arrest you right now, you realize that?’
‘But I tell you there was a body! I didn’t imagine it, it was right there!’
‘Hmm.’ Simon turned to one of his men. ‘Go get me a coffee,’ he commanded. He faced Roberta with a sardonic look. ‘So where’s it gone to? The bathroom? Maybe we’ll find it sitting on the toilet reading Le Monde?’
‘I wish I knew,’ she replied helplessly. ‘But he was there…I didn’t imagine it.’
‘Search the place,’ Simon ordered his officers. ‘Talk to the neighbours, find out if they heard anything.’ The men went off to comb through the apartment, one or two of them casting irritable glances at Roberta. Simon turned to her again. ‘You say he was a big, powerful man? That he attacked you with a knife?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you’re not injured?’
She tutted with annoyance. ‘No.’
‘How do you expect me to believe that a woman of your size–about one metre sixty-five?–could kill a large armed attacker with her bare hands, and not have a mark on her?’
‘Hold on–I never said I killed him. He fell on the knife.’
‘What was he doing here?’
‘What does a criminal normally do inside somebody’s apartment? He was burgling the place. Turned my lab upside down.’
‘Your lab?’
‘Sure, the whole place has been ransacked. See for yourself.’
She pointed to the lab door, and he pushed it open. Peering in past his shoulder she saw with a shock that the room had been tidied up–everything neatly in its proper place, files neatly ordered, drawers shut. Was she going crazy?
‘Tidy burglar,’ Simon commented. ‘Wish they were all like that.’
One of the agents looked in the door. ‘Sir, the neighbours across the landing were in all afternoon. They say they heard nothing.’
‘Huh,’ Simon snorted. He looked around the lab, snatched up a piece of paper from her desk. ‘What’s this? The Biological Science of Alchemy?’ His eyes flashed up from the page and bored into her.
‘I told you, I-I’m a scientist,’ she stammered.
‘Alchemy is a science now? You can turn lead into gold?’
‘Give me a break.’
‘Maybe you’ve invented a way of making things…disappear?’ he said with an expansive gesture. He tossed the paper down on the desk and strode purposefully across the room. ‘And what’s in here?’
Before she could stop him he’d opened the doors to the fly tanks. ‘Putain! This is disgusting.’
‘It’s part of my research.’
‘This is a serious health and safety matter, madame. These things carry disease.’ The police doctor was standing behind Roberta in the doorway, nodding in agreement and rolling his eyes. The other officers were returning from their search of the small apartment, shaking their heads. She could feel hostile looks coming at her from all directions.
‘Your coffee, sir.’
Ah, thank Christ.’ Simon grabbed the paper cup and took a deep gulp. Coffee was the only thing that took away these stress headaches. He needed to rest more. He hadn’t slept at all last night.
‘I know this looks weird,’ Roberta protested. She was gesticulating too much, on the defensive.