Death in the Rainy Season Page 23

  ‘I’m sure she’ll come around,’ Morel said, though the girl’s absence made him uneasy.

  ‘Any idea at all where she might be staying?’

  Mariko shook her head. ‘Will you try to find her?’ Her voice was pleading.

  ‘Yes,’ Morel promised. He raised a hand, thinking to touch her, to reassure her, but instead he let it drop by his side again. ‘Is Paul around?’

  ‘No. He went to work,’ she said. ‘It’s good to see him start to pull himself together. It’s a relief.’

  She didn’t look relieved, Morel thought. She looked like she was struggling to keep it together.

  ‘I thought Nora might be with Jeremy, but he’s still away with his family,’ she said. ‘I’ve checked with her friends – none of them have seen her since the day before yesterday. Including Lydia. Those are the friends I know about. There will be others. Nora doesn’t talk to me anymore about who she sees.’ She was trying to sound calm and rational but Morel detected real panic in her voice.

  ‘We’ll find her,’ he said.

  ‘We’ve had our issues. She is a teenager after all,’ Mariko said. ‘But this is worse than anything she’s done to spite me. It’s cruel.’

  Morel nodded. He wouldn’t say it to Mariko, of course, but Nora reminded him of the spoilt youngsters he’d known at school when he was growing up, expatriate children like him used to a life of privilege and ease.

  The maid came into the kitchen with dirty cups and plates and placed them by the sink. She started washing the dishes. Mariko gestured for Morel to follow her into the living room. There, with obvious reluctance, Mariko sat down.

  ‘Who does your daughter confide in?’ Morel asked, taking a seat beside her.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘This boy, Jeremy. What do you know about him?’

  ‘I don’t know him very well but he seems like a nice kid. Why do you ask?’

  Her tone was harsh and she wouldn’t look at him. Morel wondered where the animosity was coming from.

  ‘I’m just curious,’ Morel said gently. ‘Mariko, leaving aside the usual behavioural issues associated with her being a teenager, have you noticed a change in Nora lately? A change in her attitude? Anything out of the ordinary?’

  Mariko let out a short, incredulous laugh. ‘A change?’ she said, and for a moment it looked like she might finally say more, but then Paul walked in to the room.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Mariko asked. ‘I thought you were at work.’

  ‘I was. But I’m not feeling very well,’ Paul said. When he saw Morel, he frowned.

  ‘Has something happened? Is Nora OK?’

  ‘There still isn’t any news from her,’ Mariko told her husband.

  Morel noticed how they looked at each other, their faces filled with worry but their bodies drawn apart, neither of them appearing to want to comfort the other.

  Before leaving, Morel called Sarit. He thought he might have guessed where Nora was hiding and, if he was right, he needed help finding the place, from someone who wasn’t linked in any way to Hugo Quercy.

  ‘It’s me,’ he said when Sarit answered the phone.

  ‘I was going to call you. Do you think you could come to the station?’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘Yes. I can send someone to pick you up.’

  ‘What do you need me for?’ Morel asked. He was worried about the girl and felt disinclined to go.

  ‘We’ve arrested Thierry Gaveaux,’ Sarit said.

  ‘On what basis?’ Morel asked when he caught up with Sarit at the station. It had taken him half an hour to get there through the rain.

  ‘I followed him earlier today.’

  ‘You did? When did you decide to do that?’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly planned, but I was keeping an eye on him. When I saw what he was doing, I had to make an arrest. He is a potential suspect, don’t you think?’

  Morel took a deep breath. He was fuming but he tried to keep his expression neutral.

  ‘If you were watching him as part of the investigation into Hugo Quercy’s death, don’t you think you should have told me?’

  ‘He is a sick and dangerous man,’ Sarit said. ‘This is the reason why he is sitting here now.’

  ‘Or maybe you’re trying to shift the focus of this investigation away from the real culprits.’

  Morel knew he had offended him, but Sarit simply smiled. Morel wished he would get angry.

  ‘That matter we spoke of at the wedding,’ Sarit said, ‘there is no evidence that Quercy’s death had anything to do with it. I’ve also spoken with Monsieur Nizet. He is convinced of this too. He will confirm this with you.’

  Before Morel could interrupt, Sarit continued.

  ‘Do you remember what you said? That you would be satisfied with the answer I gave you?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Well then, I consider this matter closed.’

  ‘Monsieur Gaveaux,’ Morel said. He sat in a chair across from the other man. Gaveaux was looking distinctly more dishevelled than the last time they’d met. His shirt was ripped and his face flushed. Morel wondered about the arrest and whether Gaveaux had been manhandled.

  ‘Do you know why you’re here?’ Morel said.

  ‘I want a lawyer.’

  ‘Tell Commandant Morel why you’re here,’ Sarit said brusquely.

  Gaveaux’s small eyes swivelled around the room, looking for an escape.

  ‘I will tell you,’ Sarit said. ‘Monsieur Gaveaux picked up a schoolgirl. They were parked where they could not easily be seen and Monsieur Gaveaux was—’

  ‘What I was doing is none of your business!’ Gaveaux nearly shrieked.

  ‘When you have sex with an underage girl, that is our business,’ Sarit said.

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything.’

  ‘I think Commandant Morel wants to know the facts,’ Sarit said, expressionless.

  ‘Where is the girl?’ Morel asked.

  ‘She is here. Should I bring her in?’

  ‘Oh God, no,’ Gaveaux groaned. He looked like he might throw up.

  ‘I’ll speak to her shortly,’ Morel said. ‘Have you got in touch with her parents?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘We should take her home.’

  Morel turned to Gaveaux.

  ‘First, I’m going to check on the girl. And then we’re going to spend some time together. For a start, you’re going to tell us everything you know about Hugo Quercy.’

  ‘And then,’ Sarit said, ‘we’re going to look into your dirty habits.’

  ‘I want a lawyer,’ Gaveaux said again.

  Sarit nodded. ‘Of course. And we’ll inform your wife too. She will want to know you’ve been arrested.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘If you want a lawyer, we need to inform your wife as well,’ Sarit said. Morel knew this was nonsense but he held his tongue.

  Gaveaux slumped in his chair. His face had turned grey and he was sweating.

  ‘Maybe we can work something out,’ he whispered, looking pleadingly at Sarit.

  Sarit went to the door and, opening it, called out.

  Immediately, a young officer appeared.

  ‘Get a bucket for Monsieur Gaveaux,’ Sarit said. ‘In case he needs to throw up.’

  Morel found the room where the girl waited. She was sitting alone, watching the floor. She didn’t look up when she heard him come in.

  ‘Has someone been to ask you some questions yet?’

  She nodded.

  ‘OK. You can go home now,’ he said gently. ‘A police officer will give you a lift.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I will go by myself.’

  ‘This is not your fault,’ he said in Khmer.

  She sat with her hands and knees pressed tight together, her shoulders hunched. She refused to look at him.

  ‘What that man did to you is wrong,’ he said. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of.’

  He wanted to seem reassuring, so he
would not upset her further, but he couldn’t conceal his anger. He realized, as he struggled to keep his voice neutral, that he had hoped she would be older.

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’ Thierry Gaveaux was now a blubbering mess. ‘What about Marlene? She told me she would be late. I’m supposed to cook. What’s she going to say when she comes home and finds dinner isn’t ready? She’ll wonder where I am.’

  ‘I think you’ve got plenty of other things to worry about,’ Morel said. If Madame Gaveaux knew where her husband was, and why, his dark, secretive world would implode.

  ‘So you like to fuck little girls?’ Sarit said now. He was sitting with his legs stretched before him, hands folded on his stomach. His tone was even, almost amiable. Gaveaux said nothing, his eyes wide and unfocused.

  Morel was surprised at how quickly the man folded. He’d expected that he and Sarit would have to work much harder at obtaining a confession. But only minutes later Gaveaux admitted to having sexual relations with an underage schoolgirl, over the course of several months. He claimed that it was always the same girl and that it was mutual.

  ‘When a girl is this age, it’s called rape,’ Sarit said. ‘You go to jail for rape.’

  ‘I never . . . she . . . we love each other,’ the Frenchman said lamely.

  The two policemen said nothing.

  ‘What now?’ Gaveaux asked.

  ‘You’re going to tell us what you know about Hugo Quercy. Please don’t try to deny that you know him,’ Morel said, interrupting Gaveaux before he had a chance to speak. ‘I know you do. I want to know what the nature of the relationship was. Did he know about you?’ He leaned forward and spoke softly. ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t kill him,’ Gaveaux replied. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because he was going to hand you in?’

  Gaveaux shook his head, looking miserable.

  ‘I think we will call Madame Gaveaux. So she doesn’t worry about her husband’s absence,’ Sarit said, looking at Morel.

  ‘I’ll tell you what you want,’ Gaveaux pleaded. ‘You’re not going to tell my wife any of this, right?’

  Morel looked at him. It amazed him that this man could still think he’d get away with it. Go home and just carry on as though nothing had changed.

  ‘We’re going to go to your house,’ Sarit said. ‘And we’re going to get your computer. Then you’re going to show us the things you like to look at on your computer.’

  ‘And the people you know. Through your shared interests,’ Morel said. Something in Gaveaux’s eyes told Morel that he had hit a raw nerve.

  ‘What time does Marlene get home?’ Morel asked as they led the cuffed man down the hallway.

  At the sound of his wife’s name, Gaveaux began to cry.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  While Sarit drove Gaveaux back home to fetch his computer, Morel called Mariko Arda to get Jeremy Nolan’s address.

  ‘He’s still away,’ she said on the phone. It took only a second or two for her to realize why he was asking. ‘You think Nora is at his house? Hiding out there?’

  ‘I don’t know for certain,’ Morel said. ‘Either way, I’ll let you know as soon as I have any news.’

  The Nolans rented a house behind the Caltex petrol station on Monivong Boulevard, opposite the French embassy and Calmette Hospital. Morel rang the bell. While he waited, he looked to see whether he could detect any signs of life on the first floor, which was the only part of the house you could see from here, with the gate closed.

  He remained there another ten minutes or so, ringing the bell every so often. The gate was two metres high. He should have known there would be no easy way of getting inside the property. He would come back with Sarit. He was sure the girl was here.

  Before he got back into his rental car, he stopped to look at the construction work going on in the empty plot next door. One of the workers walked past him. Morel called out to him in Khmer.

  ‘I’m looking for someone who lives in this house,’ he said. ‘Have you seen anyone go into or come out of the house in the past few days?’

  The man said that he hadn’t but he could ask his colleagues. Morel followed him onto the site and waited while the man went over to the other workers, gathered together, and repeated what Morel had said. They all smiled and said no, they hadn’t seen anyone. Then an older man who’d been standing a short distance away, smoking a cigarette, raised his voice, saying he had seen a visitor there.

  ‘It was yesterday evening. I was here late. The man came and rang the bell and then went inside. He came out again just as I was leaving.’

  ‘How long do you think he was here?’

  The man shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe an hour. I’m not sure.’

  ‘Did you see his face?’ Morel asked, his heart quickening. At last, something tangible.

  ‘No. It was dark. He came out and walked up the street towards the main road.’

  ‘A white man?’

  The worker nodded. ‘I think so. And he was walking slowly, like an old man.’

  Morel thanked him for his help and got back into his car. He would return to the police station and ask Sarit to accompany him. They would get inside the house, no matter what.

  ‘What I want to know is whether anyone was NOT at that hotel on Sunday when Hugo Quercy checked in,’ Lila said. ‘Seems to me it was the hottest place in town that night.’

  ‘It does look that way, doesn’t it?’ Morel said.

  Morel’s mind was elsewhere. Sarit couldn’t come with him to the Nolan house, not yet anyway, because he was busy with Gaveaux. Morel felt a sense of urgency, only slightly lessened by the fact that Mariko had received another text from Nora’s phone telling her mother she was OK.

  ‘I mean, really. His friend Paul Arda dropped him off at the hotel. The girl’s boyfriend was in another room down the hallway.’

  ‘Five doors down, as a matter of—’

  ‘Then Adam Spencer comes in and stumbles on his dead body. Or so he says.’

  ‘I think he’s telling the truth.’

  ‘I still like my theory. This was about jealousy. Revenge. Hugo was sleeping with someone and he got killed for it.’

  Morel paused. ‘I heard something interesting. Something that might make the minister somewhat unhappy. I can’t decide whether to let Perrin know. I’m not sure it has any bearing on the case.’ Morel told Lila about his conversation with Sarit and Quercy’s role as an informer for the Cambodian government.

  ‘Bastard,’ she said.

  ‘I’d rather not tell his wife if I don’t need to,’ Morel said. ‘It would break her heart. She really looked up to him.’

  ‘Why the hell did he do it?’ Lila said. ‘Ambition, I guess.’

  ‘The main thing right now is to find Nora. She’s gone missing.’

  ‘The kid?’

  ‘She hasn’t been home for two nights. But she’s texted her mother a couple of times, saying she’s safe and she just needs time to think.’

  ‘You think she and Hugo . . . ?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Morel said. ‘But there’s a lot of tension in that house. Something’s not right. I intend to get to the bottom of it. Today,’ he added forcefully, wondering whether it was wishful thinking that made him so confident he could solve this within the coming hours.

  ‘What about the paedophile?’ Lila asked. ‘Was he at the Paradise Hotel too?’

  ‘His name’s Thierry Gaveaux. I want you to check him out. See if he’s got any history in France. I don’t know whether he had anything to do with Quercy’s death but he pretended, initially, not to have ever known him. Then later admitted that he did. And I think he knew me too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He seemed to know who I was. Even though we’d never met before. It was strange. But I saw it in his eyes. Recognition; like he knew about me. Almost like he’d been warned.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
/>
  ‘Well, it means he was prepared for us.’

  ‘It means he knows more about you than you know about him. He’s one step ahead of you.’

  Morel let her words sink in.

  ‘You could come and help me out,’ he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  She snorted.

  ‘Me in Phnom Penh? Trudging through flooded streets, being eaten alive by mosquitoes? I’d get food poisoning within five minutes of landing. No way.’

  THIRTY-NINE

  Florence drove Hugo’s car to the petrol station. One of her colleagues at the bank had agreed to buy it, and pick it up on Saturday. She would fill the tank for him first.

  Ahead of her, dozens of motorcycles were piled up at the pump. She turned off the engine and pulled on the handbrake, figuring she would be here a while. She slid her seat back so she would be more comfortable, and rested her hands on her belly. Her dress rode up her legs. She looked at them. They were deeply tanned. She ran her fingers across her knees.

  She imagined her fingers belonged to someone else. This was her husband’s hand, knowing and warm.

  Her body ached from Hugo’s absence.

  She closed her eyes and let the tears fall.

  She went home and continued with the packing. There were cardboard boxes everywhere. Only a few were still empty. It was extraordinary, how much she had done with Mariko’s help. To think their lives here could be stored away so easily, in a matter of days.

  The bell rang. Something was strange, Florence thought, before realizing what it was. The dog wasn’t barking. She had given it away. It had been Mariko’s suggestion, to hand it over to the animal welfare group.

  ‘One less thing to worry about,’ she had said.

  Florence opened the front door and looked out to see who it was. Kate O’Sullivan was standing outside the gate. Florence’s first instinct was to shut the door again and forget about the woman, but she found she couldn’t be quite so abrupt.

  ‘I guess you’d better come in,’ she said. She activated the gate with the remote. It slid open and Kate came up to the door, her eyes lowered.