appreciate begin spoken to like a child. Monsieur Baptiste backed off. He was trying to slip away.
“Marseille has always had a reputation for crime. Truffaut was part of an organisation that took advantage of cheap labour and foreign workers… mostly Italians. Always, he maintained a veneer of respectability.”
“That’s it? He was a businessman who took advantage of poor people? That’s all you’ve got on him.” I was felt exasperated.
“No, there is more. He handled stolen goods, ran an extortion racket, and trafficked women, most of whom went to various establishments throughout Marseille as prostitutes.”
Laurent drew up a chair and sat down next to me. He stared into my eyes and I saw a great sadness come over him.
“Sophie, you must be careful. You must finish what you have to do in the apartment and go home.” He took my hand and kissed it, lightly. “I would not want anything bad to happen to you.”
I pulled my hand away.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “It was all a long time ago.”
“This is true, but my dear… Truffaut is still alive and he has a long memory and some say fingers in many puddings.”
“Pies. You mean fingers in many pies,” I sulked.
“Yes, pies.” replied Laurent. “He is not a good man.”
“But if he can tell me about Berthe? If he can help me understand her? Then I have to talk to him. Where does he live?”
“I…” Laurent hesitated.
“Oh don’t tell me you don’t know. Of course you do. This changes everything. What about this girl Marianne? Who was she? Did she end up in a brothel? Is that what you think? Is that why you won’t tell me? You think I need to be protected against women like that?”
“Ah… you test my patience,” said Laurent. “It is not a matter of…” He shook his head.
“Well?” I was not going to let him get away with it that easily. He sighed.
“She was a small time actress much feted in her home town of Aix en Provence. She and Truffaut had a brief affair. Her family, her friends… she gave up everyone for Truffaut. The local newspaper ran her story for two weeks. Berthe’s name was mentioned and the Paris journalists picked up on it. Truffaut was questioned by the police, but there was no evidence of foul play. To this day Marianne Cloutel has not been found.”
“And Truffaut? You say he is still alive? Where is he now?” I frowned at Laurent. I was determined to have the information.
“He is a very old man. Very old.”
“So?”
“So he lives in a private care home.” Laurent sighed. “I can arrange for you to visit him. But there is no point. He will not tell you anything.”
“You’re still trying to put me off.” I said, angrily. “Make the call. Arrange the visit. You can come with me if you are concerned. But I will see him. Especially now.” I stood up. The diminutive archivist had disappeared. “Please thank Monsieur Baptiste on my behalf. Tell him I will return tomorrow to look through the papers. In the meantime, I have another appointment.”
I turned on my heels.
“Sophie… wait,” Laurent called out. I paused and half turned. He said: “I do not wish to anger you. I have been stupid. I should have realised you are a modern woman. You do not need a man’s protection. I was simply trying to…” He looked crestfallen.
I considered. “Call me at the hotel later. I have to visit someone… and you need not worry. I can take care of myself.”
Chapter 10 – Present Day
“I’m going to make a cup of coffee. Do you want one?” I ask Eva, easing myself up off the sofa.
“Sure, why not?” she says. She stretches her long limbs and frowns. “Why haven’t you told my any of this before?”
“I didn’t know how to,” I say. “I was scared, I guess.”
The kitchen is small, but is as clean as a new pin and has everything we could possibly need. I fill the kettle with water and find two mugs on the rack.
“It will have to be instant,” I shout, as I open the
“Marseille has always had a reputation for crime. Truffaut was part of an organisation that took advantage of cheap labour and foreign workers… mostly Italians. Always, he maintained a veneer of respectability.”
“That’s it? He was a businessman who took advantage of poor people? That’s all you’ve got on him.” I was felt exasperated.
“No, there is more. He handled stolen goods, ran an extortion racket, and trafficked women, most of whom went to various establishments throughout Marseille as prostitutes.”
Laurent drew up a chair and sat down next to me. He stared into my eyes and I saw a great sadness come over him.
“Sophie, you must be careful. You must finish what you have to do in the apartment and go home.” He took my hand and kissed it, lightly. “I would not want anything bad to happen to you.”
I pulled my hand away.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “It was all a long time ago.”
“This is true, but my dear… Truffaut is still alive and he has a long memory and some say fingers in many puddings.”
“Pies. You mean fingers in many pies,” I sulked.
“Yes, pies.” replied Laurent. “He is not a good man.”
“But if he can tell me about Berthe? If he can help me understand her? Then I have to talk to him. Where does he live?”
“I…” Laurent hesitated.
“Oh don’t tell me you don’t know. Of course you do. This changes everything. What about this girl Marianne? Who was she? Did she end up in a brothel? Is that what you think? Is that why you won’t tell me? You think I need to be protected against women like that?”
“Ah… you test my patience,” said Laurent. “It is not a matter of…” He shook his head.
“Well?” I was not going to let him get away with it that easily. He sighed.
“She was a small time actress much feted in her home town of Aix en Provence. She and Truffaut had a brief affair. Her family, her friends… she gave up everyone for Truffaut. The local newspaper ran her story for two weeks. Berthe’s name was mentioned and the Paris journalists picked up on it. Truffaut was questioned by the police, but there was no evidence of foul play. To this day Marianne Cloutel has not been found.”
“And Truffaut? You say he is still alive? Where is he now?” I frowned at Laurent. I was determined to have the information.
“He is a very old man. Very old.”
“So?”
“So he lives in a private care home.” Laurent sighed. “I can arrange for you to visit him. But there is no point. He will not tell you anything.”
“You’re still trying to put me off.” I said, angrily. “Make the call. Arrange the visit. You can come with me if you are concerned. But I will see him. Especially now.” I stood up. The diminutive archivist had disappeared. “Please thank Monsieur Baptiste on my behalf. Tell him I will return tomorrow to look through the papers. In the meantime, I have another appointment.”
I turned on my heels.
“Sophie… wait,” Laurent called out. I paused and half turned. He said: “I do not wish to anger you. I have been stupid. I should have realised you are a modern woman. You do not need a man’s protection. I was simply trying to…” He looked crestfallen.
I considered. “Call me at the hotel later. I have to visit someone… and you need not worry. I can take care of myself.”
Chapter 10 – Present Day
“I’m going to make a cup of coffee. Do you want one?” I ask Eva, easing myself up off the sofa.
“Sure, why not?” she says. She stretches her long limbs and frowns. “Why haven’t you told my any of this before?”
“I didn’t know how to,” I say. “I was scared, I guess.”
The kitchen is small, but is as clean as a new pin and has everything we could possibly need. I fill the kettle with water and find two mugs on the rack.
“It will have to be instant,” I shout, as I open the
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