“Not today,” I said. “Mercifully. I was only curious. You seemed quite upset about Gallo’s murder. Beyond natural surprise and pity, I mean. I wanted to ask you why, but you departed too rapidly.”
Explaining this out loud, it did sound a flimsy reason for walking a mile past the confluence to enter Fernand’s place of business, uninvited. I held my ground, however, and did not apologize.
Emile studied his uncle in surprise, also interested in Fernand’s answer.
Fernand flushed to the roots of his thinning hair. “Not upset. I barely knew the man. It gave me a turn, as you English say, to see him lying there. Reminded me of the old days. The executions, you know …”
He trailed off, pressing a hand to his forehead. I saw in his eyes, before he covered them, a hint of relief that he had a believable excuse to give me.
Emile regarded him in perplexity. “Are you worried because of Cousin Claude, Uncle?”
Fernand started and tried to signal Emile to silence, but the young man turned to me.
“My cousin Claude fell hard for Signora Ruggeri when she first arrived in Lyon,” he explained. “Uncle Giraud—Claude’s father—complained that Claude was just one more of her victims. You don’t believe Cousin Claude did this murder, do you?”
Chapter 7
Of course he did not,” Fernand roared. Several workers, including Michel, appeared in the factory’s doorway to peer out at us.
Fernand made an effort to calm himself. “Yes, Claude behaved like a fool over the signora, but that was months ago, Emile. Claude has finished with her. He’d never have murdered a man because of her.”
Emile blinked. “Forgive me, Uncle. I know absolutely that Claude did no such thing, but I thought that was what you feared.”
“Never.” Fernand spoke stoutly, but his rapid breathing and flushed face told me otherwise.
“It is easily solved,” I said. “If Claude was far from the Pont Tilsit, or indeed the entire Presqu’île, last night, then he need have no concern.”
From Fernand’s continued scowl, I gathered that Claude would not be so fortunate.
“I do not know where he was, but it does not matter,” Fernand snapped. “A Devere would not do this.”
Emile opened his mouth, perhaps to argue this point, but Fernand glared him to silence and swung on me.
“Emile and Gabriella tell me you rush about London seeking criminals to send to the gallows, Captain. We have the gendarmerie here—you do not need to interfere. Go back to your villa on the hill and await the wedding. There is no need to have Claude arrested for his imprudent passion.”
Fernand balled his fists as he made this speech, which I realized were beefy and scarred, a man unafraid of labor. Fernand was on his own territory, with many to aid him, and I was an interloper.
Brewster stirred, as though ready to step between us, but I forestalled him.
“I assure you, I have no intention of spoiling the wedding,” I said to Fernand. “But Claude should clear his name as soon as he can, so that he too may attend.” I gave Fernand and the distressed Emile a stiff bow. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
I turned, nearly colliding with Brewster, who stood close beside me. He stepped away, and we walked out of the courtyard together. The large Michel emerged to dog us until we were through the gate.
“I don’t know what you were going on about,” Brewster said as we reached the road. We’d spoken in French, Fernand too agitated to translate. “But Mr. Devere was ready to come at you, with his workers to back him up. Tough blokes in there. So of course, you had to go and rile them.”
“Fernand fears that his nephew Claude murdered Signor Gallo,” I told him as we headed northward. My leg began to ache, punishing me for not hiring a hack or cart to bring me out here.
“Does he, now? Not without reason, I take it. Else he wouldn’t have shouted so loud.”
“I thought the same. If there was no possibility at all, Fernand would not worry. Emile seems sanguine that his cousin is innocent, but there must be a reason Fernand is not as certain.”
“He knows summat, you mean.”
“He must.” I scanned the dusty road and the pile of buildings of Lyon, with the gleam of wide river dividing around it. “The best way to make certain Claude is innocent is to find out where he was last night. I hear the police are quick to arrest suspects here. If we can keep Claude free, it will do much to alleviate the family’s worries.”
“You mean find out who really killed the man, don’t you?”
I nodded. “If it comes to that.”
