Speak Softly My Love by Louis Shalako

We will need a list of any hotels that he may have regularly
stayed at. Any phone numbers where he might be located would also
be very helpful. We regret any inconvenience our visit may have
caused. We certainly never intended any disrespect…to anyone at
all.”
    She said
nothing, clasping her collar up near her slightly-waspish throat.
With a nod of acceptance, he went out the door. She closed the door
behind her and then went down the hall.
    Her walk
was not a happy one.
    They sat
there. There was a long, red leather couch and one empty low table
with a bowl of stale peanuts on it. They were almost afraid to
speak. It was almost funny, and almost sad. There was this sinking
feeling like they’d been had, somehow. Neither one knew what to
think. They needed time to analyze. She was back in two
minutes.
    “ Monsieur Gaudet will see you now.” She was very stiff, very
firm, very erect.
    Very
proper.
    “ Thank you.”
    Another secretary came along just then and cocked her head
and eyebrows. They got up and followed her in. The backside on this
one was formidable. Mademoiselle Pelletier stood there with a storm cloud for a
face, face to the farthest window, either unwilling or unable to
look at them directly.
     
    ***
     
    A tall,
balding man in a very expensive business suit, the gentleman was
reserved but polite. Tailler wondered what the lady might have told
him. Probably only that they were making inquiries, and that they
were from the police.
    “ We were just asking Monsieur Godeffroy’s secretary a few
questions.” Hubert was casual.
    “ Yes, so I understand.” The gentleman shook their hands, and
then studied their proffered IDs, one at a time.
    He
handed them back and ushered them over to a low conversation-pit,
dark wool in a kind of warm chocolate brown. The wood furnishings
showed that machine-age touch, narrow geometric and patterned
lines, curves here and there, and the lovely classic proportions.
The carpet was thick as anything he’d ever known. Hubert slowed and
stared for a moment, examining some etchings on the wall. Studying
the signature, he’d never heard of the guy. The place certainly
looked very prosperous. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting,
but this was anything but the back room of a second-hand clothing
store. A firm like this would have a lot of important
customers.
    It
introduced a whole new element.
    Tailler
sat, noting the factory smoke-stacks visible just on the other side
of the road. There were railway tracks nearby. The route to Lyon
had followed the river for a ways, probably right through here. The
tracks couldn’t be more than a hundred and fifty metres away. There
was an unmistakeable rumble coming up through the chair and the
soles of his feet.
    “ Please let us know how I can be of assistance.”
    The
gentleman clasped his hands and looked at them calmly.
    “ Well, it’s just that we’d very much like to speak to Monsieur
Godeffroy. Didier. It’s just that his wife, well, she’s a little
worried about him. He took off without a word. He hasn’t checked
in, for quite a while. We pooh-poohed it at first—the flics, you know, we’re
not all that interested in…ah, divorce —shit cases like that, eh,
sir?” Tailler cleared his throat. “It’s just that he’s been gone
for a while. Maybe he’s just forgotten to leave a note,
eh?”
    The
gentleman’s eyebrows rose.
    It was
Hubert’s turn.
    “ She says they weren’t fighting or anything like that, uh,
sir.”
    “ I’m sure Didier would never do anything to upset Madame—I
mean Monique. They make an admirable couple, and they always seemed
very much in love. I must say.” If Monsieur said it, then it must
be so.
    Hubert
sat down. He crossed his legs as the fellow sort of waited
politely.
    They
were all very good friends for some reason.
    “ Hmn. Disappeared, you say.” Gaudet chuckled
expressively.
    “ I understand from his secretary that Didier is on a road trip
right now. Is this true? And what