and maybe ten years older than Becky, the youngest of them. Jill had dark grey eyes that could set off the whole of her if she would but let them and if things had been better.
‘I was drunker,’ said Nora. ‘ Mon Dieu, I could hardly get up those stairs and kept telling her to wait for me.’
‘She was in a hurry, was she?’ asked Kohler.
The others were now intently watching the trapper-cum-chef.
‘She said she was going to be sick, Inspector, and needed the vase de nuit .’
The night vase, the chamber pot. ‘The one in Room 3–54?’
He’d think the worst of her if he ever found out the truth, thought Nora, but something had best be said. ‘And the room right next to that elevator shaft we both had to pass.’
‘People come and go at all times of the night, Inspector,’ quickly offered Jill, who flicked a glance past him to the redhead called Marni.
‘It’s the shit you Germans give us to eat,’ said Marni. ‘It gives us the trots.’
‘Black bread that’s more sour than green apples; sour cabbage, too, and potato soup that always seems to have lost its potatoes,’ said Jill.
‘But with the chance of a knuckle from a long-dead horse,’ offered Marni.
‘ Stop it! Stop it! Please! ’ cried Becky.
The cigarette had fallen to the floor this time to roll under her cot.
‘Stay where you are. I’ll get it,’ said Nora.
She brushed it off and held it out, fondly touched the blonde’s cheek and said, ‘Why not let me rub your back? You know it’ll help because it always does, then I’ll make you some chamomile. I’m sorry about the rabbits. I should have realized and waited until you’d gone out.’
They weren’t just nervous, felt Kohler. They were worried about where each of them fitted into these killings, were tense as hell, and desperately tired of one another’s company and of the room.
‘It’s the winter, Inspector. It’s been getting to us,’ offered Jill with an apologetic shrug. She had straight black hair, a nice wide grin, certainly dimpled cheeks, and did look like she could be a lot of fun, but they’d had one death a week ago just along the corridor and yesterday another, taken from this very room.
‘First,’ he said, pointing at Nora, ‘tell me if any datura has gone missing before?’
She had better not look at the others, thought Nora, had better just gaze levelly at him and shake her head.
‘OK, now you,’ he said to Jill. ‘Tell me about the girl who fell.’
Herr Kohler was a little frightening after the celibacy of the past five months, thought Jill. She knew her nervousness stemmed from that as well as from everything else, but had he noticed it already? Was that why the others could see what she was thinking? If so, he would be bound to exploit it and then where would she be? ‘Sweet Briar’s essentially a girl’s college. You could say, I suppose, that Mary-Lynn had led a sheltered life, but then came Paris. Before it was closed and taken over when you people declared war on us in December of ’41, she worked as an interpreter and sales clerk at Brentano’s on the avenue de l’Opéra.’
The American bookstore.
‘Her German was almost as good as her French and because of it, she thought she was safe,’ said Marni, the redhead from Marquette U.
‘She hoped to attend the New York School of Fine and Applied Arts, in Paris,’ wept Becky, ‘but. . . but you people came to put a stop to everything. Just everything!’
‘Jill, for God’s sake, tell him,’ said Marni. ‘If you don’t, I will.’
‘Perhaps you’d best then, darling, since you knew far more than any of us, even Nora.’
‘Jill, how could you do that to me?’
‘I just did. Now, tell him.’
The redhead lowered her gaze and fingered her cup. ‘Six months before our boys landed in North Africa in November last and you people rushed to take over the zone non occupée, the zone libre, for God’s sake, Mary-Lynn fought off all her prejudices and fell for a
‘I was drunker,’ said Nora. ‘ Mon Dieu, I could hardly get up those stairs and kept telling her to wait for me.’
‘She was in a hurry, was she?’ asked Kohler.
The others were now intently watching the trapper-cum-chef.
‘She said she was going to be sick, Inspector, and needed the vase de nuit .’
The night vase, the chamber pot. ‘The one in Room 3–54?’
He’d think the worst of her if he ever found out the truth, thought Nora, but something had best be said. ‘And the room right next to that elevator shaft we both had to pass.’
‘People come and go at all times of the night, Inspector,’ quickly offered Jill, who flicked a glance past him to the redhead called Marni.
‘It’s the shit you Germans give us to eat,’ said Marni. ‘It gives us the trots.’
‘Black bread that’s more sour than green apples; sour cabbage, too, and potato soup that always seems to have lost its potatoes,’ said Jill.
‘But with the chance of a knuckle from a long-dead horse,’ offered Marni.
‘ Stop it! Stop it! Please! ’ cried Becky.
The cigarette had fallen to the floor this time to roll under her cot.
‘Stay where you are. I’ll get it,’ said Nora.
She brushed it off and held it out, fondly touched the blonde’s cheek and said, ‘Why not let me rub your back? You know it’ll help because it always does, then I’ll make you some chamomile. I’m sorry about the rabbits. I should have realized and waited until you’d gone out.’
They weren’t just nervous, felt Kohler. They were worried about where each of them fitted into these killings, were tense as hell, and desperately tired of one another’s company and of the room.
‘It’s the winter, Inspector. It’s been getting to us,’ offered Jill with an apologetic shrug. She had straight black hair, a nice wide grin, certainly dimpled cheeks, and did look like she could be a lot of fun, but they’d had one death a week ago just along the corridor and yesterday another, taken from this very room.
‘First,’ he said, pointing at Nora, ‘tell me if any datura has gone missing before?’
She had better not look at the others, thought Nora, had better just gaze levelly at him and shake her head.
‘OK, now you,’ he said to Jill. ‘Tell me about the girl who fell.’
Herr Kohler was a little frightening after the celibacy of the past five months, thought Jill. She knew her nervousness stemmed from that as well as from everything else, but had he noticed it already? Was that why the others could see what she was thinking? If so, he would be bound to exploit it and then where would she be? ‘Sweet Briar’s essentially a girl’s college. You could say, I suppose, that Mary-Lynn had led a sheltered life, but then came Paris. Before it was closed and taken over when you people declared war on us in December of ’41, she worked as an interpreter and sales clerk at Brentano’s on the avenue de l’Opéra.’
The American bookstore.
‘Her German was almost as good as her French and because of it, she thought she was safe,’ said Marni, the redhead from Marquette U.
‘She hoped to attend the New York School of Fine and Applied Arts, in Paris,’ wept Becky, ‘but. . . but you people came to put a stop to everything. Just everything!’
‘Jill, for God’s sake, tell him,’ said Marni. ‘If you don’t, I will.’
‘Perhaps you’d best then, darling, since you knew far more than any of us, even Nora.’
‘Jill, how could you do that to me?’
‘I just did. Now, tell him.’
The redhead lowered her gaze and fingered her cup. ‘Six months before our boys landed in North Africa in November last and you people rushed to take over the zone non occupée, the zone libre, for God’s sake, Mary-Lynn fought off all her prejudices and fell for a
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