Unholy Ghost Read online

  Jimmy felt unsettled and he knew it showed. Serge had said he wanted to go somewhere he wouldn’t be recognised, but most of the faces that streamed past them outside the station and those filling the street were black and brown. It didn’t seem to be such a good place to choose for a couple of well-dressed, white-faced strangers to wander about in. Not unless one of the faces fitted, a face that would be recognised because it was a police face. This had to be somewhere Carpentier knew and was known.

  Carpentier seemed pleased with the effect the place had on Jimmy.

  ‘Not the Paris our visitors want to see, eh, Jimmy?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We’ll walk and you can tell me what it is you’re thinking of doing when you get to Munich.’

  ‘Sure. Why not?’

  Serge began to walk so Jimmy fell into step. If this place was his beat then these people wouldn’t be foreigners, immigrants, North African or anything else to him. They’d be people trying to get on with their lives, mostly honest, but with enough of the other sort to keep more than one copper busy. No different really from the Irish in Kilburn where Jimmy had been born and had grown up. Where he’d become a copper.

  They walked, and while they walked Jimmy talked.

  ‘The woman in Munich must be tied in to whoever killed the old Nazi. The best guess is they killed him to get at what they wanted through the daughter. But the Paris thing happens, the convent gets closed, and McBride gets involved and suddenly there’s a problem for them, a new player. Then I turn up asking the daughter questions. They’re not expecting me so I’m gone before they can do anything. But they do their homework and decide to gun McBride. Dead or not she’s out of it, but they’re not taking any chances so when someone else turns up asking the daughter questions they’re ready. Your journalist throws himself under a train and their tame witness tells the police it’s suicide. It’s well planned, neat, and professional, just like with McBride. If I’m right the woman who stooged as their witness can tell me enough to get a line on who they are. I can also try to use what I know to scare Young Hitler’s daughter to find out what they’re after. Once I’ve got that I can do a deal with Heppert.’

  ‘A deal?’

  ‘I think she doesn’t know who the other lot are, if I turn up enough I’ll be able to help her find out. Also I’ll know what she’s after and maybe help her get it.’

  ‘Help her how?’

  ‘By giving her a better claimant than the two clowns she was going to put up for it.’

  ‘Are you sure yours is better?’

  Jimmy snorted a laugh.

  ‘She can’t be worse. No, she’ll be better all right. My boss doesn’t cock things up. If our woman isn’t actually the real thing she’ll be close enough to do the job properly.’

  Serge stopped and stood looking into the window of a dingy café. It was busy. Several faces turned and looked at him and, having looked, quickly turned back to whatever they were doing. His face was known all right.

  He turned to Jimmy who stood waiting.

  ‘You know where this woman is?’

  ‘No, but it’s in a dossier in my boss’s desk. Everything Heppert will need will be there for her.’

  Serge walked on and Jimmy walked on with him but with the distinct feeling that he’d just been put on display, that Serge’s casual pause in their walk had not been so very casual. Jimmy also felt that before they had gone very far a couple of those brown faces would come out from the café and take a slow walk themselves. He didn’t look back, he didn’t need to.

  ‘And can you get your boss’s dossier?’

  ‘Sure. I have a letter back at the hotel which gives me full access to her records. All I do is wave it at the girl on reception and go right on up.’

  ‘And in return for all this Heppert will give you what?’

  ‘Money, and lots of it. She’s a corporation lawyer working for some outfit in the US and although she’s up to paying a friendly copper to get me bounced out of Paris and maybe arranging for a local lawyer to get a small smacking she won’t want to go up against anyone who goes in for multiple murder. She’ll want my help all right and she’ll be prepared to pay for it, pay well. I could finish up very well off and maybe I won’t even need to kill anyone and can stay on the side of the angels.’

  ‘No one?’

  ‘No one that anyone will notice. See, nothing criminal or, at least, hardly criminal at all. A straight business proposition, or as straight as any business proposition ever is.’

  They walked on. The place didn’t get any better as you got away from the station, it stayed pretty much the same. Litter-strewn, run-down streets with shabby shops and lines of grey tower blocks behind them which seemed to taint the perfect blue of the sky. The people going home or doing the shopping looked run down as well, they had that tired, defeated air of poverty, that greyness which wasn’t failure but was very close to it. The only exceptions were the young men who walked together or stood about in small groups, talking and laughing. That was youth, still believing in today and looking forward to tomorrow. Hope or stupidity? Jimmy thought probably both.

  ‘All right, Jimmy. Like you say there’s nothing there that would bother me, if it all stays like you say it will.’

  ‘So how about the info on the woman in Munich?’

  Serge slipped his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

  ‘It’s all there.’ Jimmy took it and read it. ‘Satisfied?’ Jimmy nodded and slipped the paper into his pocket. ‘Good. Now let’s get away from this pissoir of a place to where we can have a drink.’ They were by a narrow passage, no more than a back alley running at right angles to the buildings they had passed. ‘This way, it’s quicker and the quickest way out of this dump is the best. Come on.’ Serge led the way. Even though there was still bright sunshine in the street this back alley was a gloomy place of shadows, strewn with filth that smelled of decaying rubbish. ‘They are animals out here, Jimmy, animals. Look at all of this filth. They …’

  Jimmy’s fist hit him hard on the side of the head.

  Serge staggered away but stayed upright and managed to turn so Jimmy hit him full on the face twice. The first punch knocked him back and the second sent him hard against the high, blank, concrete wall that was one side of the alley. Serge’s head bounced off the wall and he sagged but remained upright. Jimmy stepped up and hit him hard under the heart. Serge gasped and folded and the gun he’d managed to get into his hand fell with a clatter to the floor. Jimmy bent down and picked it up. He stood up, turned looked back down the alley. The two dark-skinned men who had come in stood looking at him. Jimmy pointed the gun at them.

  ‘Fuck off or I’ll kill you.’

  They didn’t need to understand English to know what he’d said, but they didn’t move.

  Serge was propped against the wall bending down holding his stomach, struggling to breathe. Jimmy went to his side and kicked out his legs from under him and Serge collapsed to the ground with a stifled cry. Jimmy kicked him hard in the face. It jerked his head back and bounced it once more hard against the wall. Serge slumped sideways, unconscious.

  Jimmy stood away from him and began to walk towards the two men. They stood for a second then turned and ran off. Jimmy waited for a moment then turned and went back to Serge. He felt through his pockets until he found his mobile phone. He slipped it into his own pocket. Then he took out his handkerchief and gently rubbed down the gun, enough to smear any prints. He pulled up Serge’s left arm, took his hand, and wrapped it around the butt of the pistol. Then he held the hand so the gun was touching Serge’s temple and manoeuvred a finger onto the trigger and pressed. The shot rang out around the alley and Serge’s head jerked sharply sideways. Jimmy let the hand fall, stood up, and waited. It was only seconds but to Jimmy it was a long time. No one came or looked into the alley so he walked across to some rubbish piled against a large bin and picked up a couple of half-soggy cardboard boxes. He went back to what was left o
f Serge, broke the boxes apart, and draped them over the body. He hunted round the rubbish and collected what he wanted and soon the body was pretty much hidden from view to any casual passer-by of the alley entrance. He stood up and waited. Still no one. The body would be found soon enough but not before he was on his way back to Paris. He walked back to the road, turned left, and began to re-trace his way to the station. There would be plenty of trains bringing the workers home which meant plenty of empty ones going back. He should be in his room at his hotel in almost no time at all.

  He passed the café where Serge had let the two brown faces see their man; he didn’t pause or look in. If Serge’s friends were going to do anything it would have been done by now. He walked on.

  Shit, he thought, he’d left his ticket in Serge’s pocket. Oh well, the police wouldn’t have it down as suicide anyway. No one beats himself up before he shoots himself in the head, do they?

  Jimmy arrived at the station, bought his ticket, and was soon on a train back. The carriage was empty so he took out Serge’s phone and went through the address book, found the number he wanted, and made a call.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Jimmy had his story all worked out by the time Nadine Heppert arrived at the bar in the Gare de l’Est station. She came to the table where he was waiting and sat down. Everything about her was impatient and dismissive. She refused anything to drink.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Ms Heppert.’

  Jimmy had called her on Serge’s phone and told her that Serge had a problem, that he was in trouble and it wasn’t the sort of trouble you could discuss over the phone. Also he had a message from him for her.

  ‘Just give me the message, Mr Costello.’

  Jimmy leaned forward and spoke distinctly but quietly.

  ‘Serge Carpentier is dead.’

  That took the look of superiority off her face.

  ‘What?’

  It was shock in her voice that made it too loud. The rush-hour was about finished and the bar wasn’t busy, but nor was it empty.

  ‘Can we keep this quiet please, Ms Heppert? I chose a table where we could talk without being overheard but we will have to keep our voices down or go somewhere else.’ She nodded. ‘You understand? Carpentier is dead.’

  She looked at him half stupidly, half disbelievingly, but when she spoke she leaned forward and her voice was low.

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘Shot in the head in an alley at a place called Gagny sous Bois.’

  The shocked stupidity stayed but the disbelief evaporated and although she managed to keep her voice low Jimmy noticed the tremor of fear.

  ‘Did the police tell you? Who told you? How do I know you’re telling me the truth?’

  ‘No one told me and, believe me, I am telling the truth.’

  ‘How can I be sure?’

  ‘Because I shot him.’

  Jimmy watched as she visibly deflated. Tears came into her eyes. It was as if he had just told her that her husband or child had been killed.

  And then it hit him.

  Oh my, God, they weren’t just cronies in this scam. They were bloody lovers. The silly cow was sleeping with the bastard. Shit. The bugger swung both ways, Jules at home and Heppert on the side.

  He had to get her out of the bar, away from anywhere public. He couldn’t have her fall apart with Paris goggling at her. He stood up and went round to her chair and took her arm. She looked up at him, bewildered, as if he was a stranger. There were tears on her cheeks but she got up when Jimmy lifted her arm.

  ‘Come with me, we’ll go somewhere quiet, private, where we can talk and I can get you a drink. Come on.’

  And to his surprise she came.

  He managed to get her across the road, into his hotel, and up to his room where he sat her on the bed.

  ‘Want a drink?’

  She shook her head. She was getting a handkerchief out of her handbag.

  Jimmy waited.

  She found the hanky after some fumbling and wiped her eyes then looked at him.

  ‘He’s really dead?’

  Jimmy nodded.

  ‘And you shot him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She looked down at her hanky.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He’d set me up. I had no choice.’

  She looked at him again but now with a trace of hate in her eyes and a sneer in her voice.

  ‘Self-defence?’

  ‘No. Self-preservation. I killed him in cold blood before he could have me murdered.’

  She looked down at her hands again. Jimmy couldn’t make it out. She was crying for the death of a bloke who was presumably her lover and sitting in a hotel room talking to the man who’d killed him. He’d come across many strange reactions to sudden, violent death in his life but this was a new one and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He sat down on the bed beside her. She turned to him but the hate and the sneer had gone.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why did you kill him?’

  ‘I told you, he was …’

  ‘Yes but why? Why was he going to kill you?’

  Jimmy could see she didn’t doubt him. He’d told her Carpentier was going to kill him and she believed him, she didn’t seem to need any convincing, so he began to tell her the story he’d prepared. It wasn’t too far from the truth and he’d softened her up with the way he’d broken Carpentier’s death to her. All things considered Jimmy felt she was ready to swallow his version without many questions.

  ‘He wanted to get on the inside of this thing that’s going on, this Colmar estate thing. He knew there was a lot of money involved and he wanted a part of it. I showed him how to do it and as soon as I did that he wanted me out of the way so he arranged a little meeting with a couple of friends of his. Maybe the same two he hired for you, the ones who put Joubert in hospital.’

  She didn’t try to deny it.

  ‘I see.’

  She sat on the bed looking at her hands. Jimmy decided it would be best to get her talking while she seemed willing.

  ‘Did you pay him to kick me out of Paris as well?’

  She nodded.

  ‘We knew Joubert was acting for the nuns and when you turned up it seemed the simplest thing to do. I’d already arranged with Serge to have Joubert removed from the case.’ Jimmy was surprised. Even in shock he hadn’t expected her to unbutton so easily. She was, after all, a lawyer and here she was admitting to an almost total stranger counts of bribing a police officer and complicity in theft and an aggravated assault. Still, he thought, as I’ve just admitted to her what the police would certainly count as murder, maybe it all makes some sort of sense. She was looking at him again. ‘What now?’

  The tears were gone now and so was the shock. The lover was gone, the lawyer was back and was at work. Jimmy changed his tone to suit her new mood.

  ‘Now you’ll have to work with me.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Yes. Carpentier was on the make and was a ruthless bastard. You two may have been lovers but he was …’

  She managed a sort of laugh.

  ‘My God. You make it sound like a romance from a cheap novel. We weren’t lovers, we had sex, magnificent, wonderful sex.’ Jimmy’s face must have shown he had no idea what she meant and she did the laugh again. ‘You simpleton, you stupid, naïve, innocent simpleton. You don’t think love had anything to do with it. He was … oh, God, what does it matter now and what would be the point of trying to explain it to you?’

  She almost spat the last words at him and somehow, he didn’t understand how, Jimmy felt he deserved her contempt. In some ways he was innocent and naïve and, when it came to magnificent, wonderful sex that had nothing to do with love, he probably was a stupid simpleton. He stood up, she looked up at him, still with tear-streaked cheeks but also a sneering smile. He smacked her hard across the face. She fell sideways onto the bed and he reached down and pulled her back upright.

  ‘No
w listen and listen well or I’ll throw you over that fucking balcony.’

  There was fear now in her eyes, real fear. That was good because he didn’t have much time and certainly no time for any crap about sex, magnificent or otherwise.

  ‘I killed Carpentier because he was going to kill me. He was also going to take you for whatever he could get and he meant to get a shed-load. If you got in his way or wouldn’t play along he’d have killed you and gone on to whoever would play along. He was a bastard, understand, a ruthless bastard and now he’s dead and we’re stuck with each other so let’s not fuck about any more and do what has to be done. All right?’

  The fear was almost gone. She was coming round, thank God. She nodded slowly.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Sorry I had to hit you but we don’t have much time. Gagny sous Bois didn’t look like a place where people run for the cops too quickly but a dead body with a hole in the head will get noticed and reported, especially when they find it’s a copper. The best thing to do is assume police already have the body now and any idea that it might have been suicide will have lasted as long as it took a detective to look at his face. We need to get things straight. OK?’ She nodded again. ‘Carpentier told you about my boss, that she’d been shot?’