In the Shadows of Paris by Claude Izner Page A

asked.
    â€˜At the morgue.’
    â€˜Who is taking care of the funeral?’
    â€˜His family, I suppose. We’re placing a notice in the newspapers.’
    â€˜If nobody comes forward, may I see to the arrangements?’
    â€˜Yes, once the investigation is over.’
    â€˜What investigation?’
    â€˜We’ve yet to determine the cause of the fire. We’ll know more in a few days.’
    â€˜Were any of the books saved?’
    â€˜The firemen arrived too late on account of those blasted students who had the nerve to try and attack police headquarters!’
    â€˜It’s rumoured we’re to have a new chief of police,’ said Victor.
    â€˜That’s right. Monsieur Lepine. 25 He’ll soon restore order.’
    As Victor turned a half-melted fob watch over and over in his hands, the inspector stared at him so intently that it was all Kenji could do to stop himself from saying: ‘Beware the cobra that fixes you with its gaze.’
    â€˜Yes, to the bitter end…Whenever a murder or serious accident occurs in Paris, who turns up like a bad penny? You, Monsieur Legris. It’s becoming tiresome. How do you explain that so many of the people you associate with come to a bad end? Is it simply bad luck on your part or can you see into the future?’
    â€˜No doubt I have a sixth sense.’
    Inspector Lecacheur walked over to him, scarcely able to contain his exasperation.
    â€˜Another of your evasive remarks! I won’t let you wriggle out of this one – I demand an explanation!’
    Kenji intervened politely.
    â€˜Pierre Andrésy was my friend, Inspector. Monsieur Legris knew him on a strictly professional basis. Their paths crossed purely by chance.’
    â€˜A timely coincidence, eh? And just now you were talking to me about destiny!’
    Aristide Lechacheur rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a cigar and a box of matches. He drew lustily on the cigar, exhaling a puff of bluish smoke.
    â€˜All right, I’ve been a little blunt, but you must confess,’ he conceded gruffly, ‘that if something’s bothering me I speak my mind, especially with a fellow like him. Strange sort of bookseller who can’t even manage to find me a limited edition of Manon Lescaut ! Did your friend use flammable substances in his work?’
    â€˜Not as far as I know.’
    â€˜Did he have gas or oil lamps?’
    â€˜I think I saw oil lamps in his shop.’
    The inspector leafed through a file and continued his questioning without looking up.
    â€˜Are you aware of any enemies he might have had?’
    â€˜Good heavens, no! He was liked by everyone…Do you suppose it might have been arson?’
    â€˜I’m not here to suppose, but to investigate. And I don’t need any help from you, so I suggest you let me get on with my job and you two get on with yours, which is selling books. You’re free to go now. If I need you again I’ll let you know. Have I made myself quite clear, Monsieur Legris?’
    â€˜Clear as day, Inspector. Incidentally, am I right in thinking that you’ve given up cachous?’
    â€˜When I heard you two were coming, I decided I needed a smoke to calm my nerves.’
    Â 
    Kenji walked slowly across Pont Neuf with a stooping gait. Victor’s heart went out to him. He fell into step beside him.
    â€˜You were fond of Pierre Andrésy, weren’t you?’
    â€˜Yes. How absurd and pathetic,’ he murmured.
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’
    â€˜Ashes. They’re all that remain of a man, of his dreams and aspirations.’
    Victor resisted the urge to place his hand on Kenji’s arm; displays of affection played no part in their relationship. He leant over the parapet and watched a steamboat ferrying its passengers along the river Seine, from Charenton to Point du Jour. Inspector Lecacheur’s insinuations had aroused his curiosity. What if it hadn’t been an accident?