‘It was a day booking with a full tank of fuel. Could have driven hours. Pick-up and drop-off was the same spot: L’Opéra.’
‘Wonderful.’ Lady Ashworth smiled as she smoothed an imaginary strand of hair into her bun. ‘That’s all, Just Charlie. I trust Monsieur Cardo has been helpful.’
‘Very.Merci, Monsieur Cardo.Merci, Lady Ashworth, for your time this morning. So kind.’ Charlie lifted her hand to Cardo toindicate she’d open the door herself and swung her legs out. As she slid off the deep leather seat into the sunshine, she turned and smiled sweetly at Cardo. ‘Oh, one last thing. Do you think it is possible for you to get a copy of the bookings sheet—names, destinations, addresses—for the ninth of August?’
Lady Ashworth’s face creased with confusion before she looked up and met Charlie’s eyes. She gave a grateful nod but said nothing.
The ninth of August was the date Maisy Bell had disappeared.
Charlie was going to cover the story of the dead Pierre Jouet, but she would not stop seeking answers for Maisy Bell and her family.
The Times, September 1938
Charlie James, Paris correspondent
New Details of chauffeur found dead in forest near Tours, France
The body of a 58-year-old man discovered in a forest on the outskirts of Tours last week has been officially identified as Paris Opéra Limousines driver Pierre Jouet.
The post-mortem confirmed that Jouet was killed by a bullet entering the base of his cranium. The weapon is suspected to be a handheld 9mm pistol.
Jouet was last seen alive at the pick-up point adjacent to the front steps of L’Opéra. His passenger spoke English with a thick German accent.
An unconfirmed witness has stated he saw Jouet in Montsoudun Woods, Tours, near the entrance of the forest. The victim was said to be enjoying a sleep, with a newspaper placed over his face. Jouet was allegedly in the company of a tall man with dark hair, a strong whistle, blue eyes, a moustache and a German accent. The Cité Metro and Versailles police stations are urgently seeking contact with this man.
They have no further comment at this time.
Pierre Jouet is survived by his wife, Anne-Marie, and children, Berta and Ian.
Chapter 16
THE TIMESOFFICE, PARIS
The morning after Charlie’s update on the Pierre Jouet story ran, she was sitting at her desk, looking at a selection of photographs of new-season Chanel gowns. She resented that as the only female on the news desk, the role of fashion reporting fell to her. But on the other hand, she recognised that haute couture was a key financial cog that kept Paris turning, kept the city vibrant and constantly evolving, with designers, models and artists clamouring to outdo each other on the catwalks and in private salons.
Charlie was trying to decide which photo to run: a floor-length, ruffled, fuchsia dress that featured a cluster of roses on the shoulder; or a simple yellow empire line dress with thin straps. Even though the colours wouldn’t be on display, readers could get a sense of the lines and textures. The hue could be explained in the caption.
Footsteps. ‘Got another stiff for you,’ said George as he came up behind Charlie’s cubicle and tossed a large envelope over her shoulder onto her desk.
Charlie twisted awkwardly in her seat and came face to face with her editor’s armpit.
George realised he’d invaded her space and took a deferential step back. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.
Charlie moved the envelope from where she was surveying the Chanel dresses and asked in a pointed tone, ‘Do we have any details of the person who died?’
‘No. Just this envelope my source slipped to me.’
‘Is your source at the Metro Police?’ asked Charlie, annoyed that Inspecteur Bernard had once again not contacted her. She knew he loathed the press, but they had history and she had hoped that counted for something. Clearly it did not.
‘Can’t reveal sources, James. You know that. Not even to a colleague.’ He surveyed the newsroom, filled with clacking typewriters and a half a dozen sets of hungry eyes peering over the partitions, then leaned in and said, ‘Never know how long I’ll be in this job before someone topples me. Got to keep some tricks up my sleeve. My source says these are from a graveyard near Neuilly.’
‘Well, it is a dead body, so that makes sense.’
‘Ha, ha, James. Opposite the cemetery. Stop whatever you are doing and look at these pics. See if you can come up with something for the news pages by nightfall.’
‘But I’m already working on a murder … Tours, Jouet—’
‘I’ve had no paras for my pages on that front since yesterday. Fresh stiff. Fresh story. World keeps turning, James. New shows, new dresses, new crimes. That’s why we print the news every day. It changes.’