presence and was uneasy without it. Failure after failure until at last a breakthrough.’
And then a death. ‘And the home brew, their state of inebriation?’
Must Herr Kohler continue to be such a doubter? ‘I think, if I were you, Inspector, I would ask myself where Nora and Mary-Lynn went after Colonel Kessler left them at the door to that hotel of theirs. Mary-Lynn was happy. Tears of joy had filled her eyes. Answers, though I know them not, had been received, having flowed from Cérès through me to her.’
‘And to the ears of the other sitters, Louis, not just to Colonel Kessler.’
‘Who had grown ever more close to her, Inspector,’ she continued.
‘Too close?’ he asked.
The pregnancy. ‘That I wouldn’t know.’
But probably did. ‘Madame,’ said St-Cyr, ‘when precisely did the séance end?’
Grâce à Dieu, he had asked, but she would give things a moment, would wait, yes, until the urgency of knowing made Herr Kohler fidget. ‘At 2330 hours.’
Had he given the sigh of the defeated?
‘And one and a half hours before the first killing, Louis,’ he said.
‘Did Nora not inform you of this, inspectors?’
Ach, how sweet of this celestial dreamer! snorted Kohler inwardly. ‘It must have slipped her mind.’
‘Did she accompany Mary-Lynn on each of the previous séances that one had paid for?’ asked Louis.
‘No one pays me, Chief Inspector. The service I provide is absolutely free and freely given.’
‘A yes , then, to the question,’ said Kohler, ‘but if one wishes to leave a little gift, one can. That it, eh?’
‘Hermann, leave it for now.’
‘Louis, this one’s been raking it in.’
Herr Kohler would have to be given an answer. ‘Nora accompanied Mary-Lynn to each séance that one attended and sat always on her right as instructed by me. Colonel Kessler sat on the girl’s left. Beforehand, the couple would exchange pleasantries, the Colonel always asking after her well-being and that of her friends, and if there was anything they needed.’
‘And was there?’ asked St-Cyr.
Was he not the more dangerous of the two? ‘Things like more firewood or even coal if possible for their stoves, or perhaps could he allow another visit from the maid of a roommate. There was a girl in Mary-Lynn’s room whose maid had been left to look after that one’s flat in Paris on the avenue Henri-Martin and but a few steps from the Bois de Boulogne and lovely, if I do say so myself. There were, I believe, several very valuable antiques and paintings this Jennifer Hamilton had purchased for wealthy clients in America but had been unable to ship due to the hostilities, so she was, understandably, concerned and had asked Mary-Lynn to speak to the Colonel on her behalf.’
Jennifer Hamilton of Room 3–54 the Vittel-Palace, and if this one wasn’t well informed, who was? wondered Kohler.
‘Her family in Boston have been dealing in European art and antiques for over forty years, inspectors. The girl is really quite shy and very nervous, or so I have been given to understand. Mary-Lynn was simply trying to help her. Things can be so very confusing for the young when they’re away from home only to then find themselves locked up in a place like this for years on end perhaps, who knows? Caroline Lacy and this Jennifer Hamilton had become good friends and would visit back and forth. Nothing untoward, I assure you, though girls of such a tender age as Caroline sometimes welcome the reinforcement of the physical contact and warmth of another who is a little older.’
And uh-oh, was that it, eh? thought Kohler, since up to now they’d been given to understand that Caroline had had to visit this building and its British to find someone to talk to, but the doors to the inner sanctum had been softly opened, the wraiths appearing.
‘Ah! A little refreshment, inspectors. A choice of chamomile or a particularly delightful tisane of hibiscus leaves and rose hips, sweetened with a touch of
And then a death. ‘And the home brew, their state of inebriation?’
Must Herr Kohler continue to be such a doubter? ‘I think, if I were you, Inspector, I would ask myself where Nora and Mary-Lynn went after Colonel Kessler left them at the door to that hotel of theirs. Mary-Lynn was happy. Tears of joy had filled her eyes. Answers, though I know them not, had been received, having flowed from Cérès through me to her.’
‘And to the ears of the other sitters, Louis, not just to Colonel Kessler.’
‘Who had grown ever more close to her, Inspector,’ she continued.
‘Too close?’ he asked.
The pregnancy. ‘That I wouldn’t know.’
But probably did. ‘Madame,’ said St-Cyr, ‘when precisely did the séance end?’
Grâce à Dieu, he had asked, but she would give things a moment, would wait, yes, until the urgency of knowing made Herr Kohler fidget. ‘At 2330 hours.’
Had he given the sigh of the defeated?
‘And one and a half hours before the first killing, Louis,’ he said.
‘Did Nora not inform you of this, inspectors?’
Ach, how sweet of this celestial dreamer! snorted Kohler inwardly. ‘It must have slipped her mind.’
‘Did she accompany Mary-Lynn on each of the previous séances that one had paid for?’ asked Louis.
‘No one pays me, Chief Inspector. The service I provide is absolutely free and freely given.’
‘A yes , then, to the question,’ said Kohler, ‘but if one wishes to leave a little gift, one can. That it, eh?’
‘Hermann, leave it for now.’
‘Louis, this one’s been raking it in.’
Herr Kohler would have to be given an answer. ‘Nora accompanied Mary-Lynn to each séance that one attended and sat always on her right as instructed by me. Colonel Kessler sat on the girl’s left. Beforehand, the couple would exchange pleasantries, the Colonel always asking after her well-being and that of her friends, and if there was anything they needed.’
‘And was there?’ asked St-Cyr.
Was he not the more dangerous of the two? ‘Things like more firewood or even coal if possible for their stoves, or perhaps could he allow another visit from the maid of a roommate. There was a girl in Mary-Lynn’s room whose maid had been left to look after that one’s flat in Paris on the avenue Henri-Martin and but a few steps from the Bois de Boulogne and lovely, if I do say so myself. There were, I believe, several very valuable antiques and paintings this Jennifer Hamilton had purchased for wealthy clients in America but had been unable to ship due to the hostilities, so she was, understandably, concerned and had asked Mary-Lynn to speak to the Colonel on her behalf.’
Jennifer Hamilton of Room 3–54 the Vittel-Palace, and if this one wasn’t well informed, who was? wondered Kohler.
‘Her family in Boston have been dealing in European art and antiques for over forty years, inspectors. The girl is really quite shy and very nervous, or so I have been given to understand. Mary-Lynn was simply trying to help her. Things can be so very confusing for the young when they’re away from home only to then find themselves locked up in a place like this for years on end perhaps, who knows? Caroline Lacy and this Jennifer Hamilton had become good friends and would visit back and forth. Nothing untoward, I assure you, though girls of such a tender age as Caroline sometimes welcome the reinforcement of the physical contact and warmth of another who is a little older.’
And uh-oh, was that it, eh? thought Kohler, since up to now they’d been given to understand that Caroline had had to visit this building and its British to find someone to talk to, but the doors to the inner sanctum had been softly opened, the wraiths appearing.
‘Ah! A little refreshment, inspectors. A choice of chamomile or a particularly delightful tisane of hibiscus leaves and rose hips, sweetened with a touch of
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