Claire opened the door and walked along the corridor to the entrance hall with Eleanor. Outside what Claire assumed was the study she and Eleanor waited for the men to catch up with them. When they had, Guillaume Cheval opened the door and held it for Eleanor to wheel herself into the room. Claire and Mitch followed.
The room was oblong with a polished wood-block floor and floor to ceiling panelling. A large desk stood between two sash windows overlooking the gardens and a huge round table dominated the centre of the room. It reminded Claire of the tables used by the WAAF when they were posted out to the coast to plot the whereabouts of enemy aircraft.
Guillaume Cheval laid the briefcase on the table, opened it, and took the documents out one at a time. He placed them around the edge of the table and Eleanor began to read.
Claire had read each of the documents several times and moved out of the way so those who had not seen them had a better view. She looked out of the window. It was noon and the pale sun had a more defined edge. She watched a pair of blackbirds picking at dead leaves, lifting them and flicking them away when they found nothing to eat beneath them. A robin flew out of a nearby bush, his chest more brown than red, a sign that spring was around the corner.
Hearing her name being called brought Claire out of her reverie. She looked back at the table. Three piles of paper now replaced the single row that ten minutes before had circled the table’s perimeter.
‘This Claire,’ Guillaume said, pointing to the documents of the real Lucien Puel, murdered on the day Heinrich Beckman escaped from the prison at Saint-Gaudens, ‘is the proof we need to put the sadistic creature behind bars.’
‘And my testimony,’ Eleanor said, ‘might get him hanged.’
Guillaume excused himself, saying he needed to make a telephone call. When he returned it was with a triumphant smile on his face. ‘A manhunt for Heinrich Beckman and Nurse Bryant, the nurse who assisted him at the Louis Bertrand hospital, has begun.’
‘The nurse?’ Claire said, surprised. ‘She couldn’t have been at Saint-Gaudens, she is too young.’
‘She wasn’t at Saint-Gaudens. She isn’t German. She’s Canadian.’
‘Then why are the authorities after her?’
‘The police think she murdered Beckman’s secretary.’
‘What?’
‘The police told my associate that Beckman’s secretary was killed on the day Alain was due to fly back to England. You were probably the last person to see her alive,’ he said, turning to Alain. ‘Initially, because you missed the plane, the authorities thought it was you who had killed her.’ Mitch gasped. ‘She was stabbed. They haven’t found the knife, but they found a nurse’s fob-watch under the dead woman’s body. They searched the staff lockers, looking for the knife, and found Nurse Bryant’s uniform with a hole where her watch had been ripped from it. They think Beckman’s secretary must have grabbed the watch when she was attacked, it came off the nurse’s uniform, and somehow the secretary ended up lying on it.’
Mitch looked at Claire. ‘I find it hard to believe Nurse Bryant could kill anyone.’
‘I agree,’ Claire said, ‘Nurse Bryant seemed like a kind, sensitive, woman. Why would she kill her work colleague, someone who she knew and probably liked?’
‘People have done worse things for love,’ Eleanor put in.
‘Whether she was involved or not, there’s an alert out for her too. The police are stopping and questioning everyone, irrelevant of age or gender. The docks and passenger ports, railway stations and airports are on high alert. It’s a vast country, but I’m told it is only a matter of time before they are caught.’
‘Beckman is ruthless,’ Eleanor said. ‘He’ll kill the nurse if she gets in his way.’
‘And he’ll get a false passport and any other document he needs,’ Mitch said. ‘He knows what he’s doing and he must have enough money to pay for a passage to anywhere. Those guys at the hospital, particularly the specialists, are at the top of the tree when it comes to salaries.’
Guillaume grinned. ‘It doesn’t matter how much money he has, it won’t help him. His bank account has been seized. As soon as he or anyone else tries to draw money out of it the Montréal police will be alerted.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Everyone applauded the news of the manhunt - except Mitch. Claire knew her husband would be blaming himself for the murder of Heinrich Beckman’s secretary. She reached out and took his hand.
‘I think we should come back to this lot after lunch,’ Eleanor said.
‘Excellent idea. That Beckman’s reign has come to an end has given me an appetite,’ Guillaume said. I hope you’re hungry, Alain? This morning, after you telephoned, I told Cook we hoped you and Claire would stay for lunch and she took a ham out of the refrigerator in celebration.’
Claire followed the others out of the study. Guillaume walked at his daughter’s side and Claire with Mitch. The dining room was the second room off the main hall. It was as plush as the other rooms but lighter. The windows were wider and faced south. A woman in her late fifties, as round as she was tall, with greying hair and an olive complexion, welcomed them as if it was her house, her dining room.
‘Esme, I would like you to meet Claire, Alain’s wife.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Madame.’
Claire returned the greeting.
‘Nice to see you again, sir,’ Esme said to Mitch.
Esme pulled out the chair at the top of the table for Guillaume. She then pulled out chairs on his left for Claire and Mitch. Eleanor wheeled herself to the right of her father, where at least two dining chairs
