Read Online Fatale by Jean-Patrick Manchette - Free Book Online Page A

they want to do it nice and quietly. They’ll pay money for your guy to take everything on the chin without complaint.”
    â€œWhat do you know about it?” Suspicion flared suddenly in the brunette’s eyes.
    â€œIt stands to reason, that’s all,” said Aimée.
    Christiane Moutet looked at her blankly, even stupidly. She seemed to be finding it hard to focus on her own thoughts. Then she nodded and a little smile touched the edge of her mouth. Suddenly her face contorted with fury, as though the truth had just dawned on her.
    â€œWithout complaint!” she repeated. “Not a chance! We’ll drag them through the mud, that’s what we’ll do!”
    â€œYes,” said Aimée. “You should do that. If they are offering a deal, it means they have things to hide. You should stir the shit, all the shit you can.” Aimée took two steps forward and used both hands to grab the brunette by the shoulders. “I’ll help you,” she said quickly. “I can dig stuff up.”
    â€œStuff?”
    â€œThe dirt. I’ll call you.” Aimée let go of Christiane, turned on her heel, and for a moment stood facing senior manager Moutet, who was still sitting in his chair, shattered.
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” she told him, and walked out the door, left the building, and almost crashed into Sonia Lorque on the sidewalk.
    â€œHow are they taking it?” Sonia wanted to know.
    Aimée shrugged. She reached down to unlock the heavy motorcycle antitheft device fitted to her Raleigh. “Badly,” she said. And, straightening up, she added, “They’re going to fight.”
    â€œI am not involved in all this,” said Sonia. “I am merely trying—” She broke off. “No one can stop me from sticking with my husband.”
    â€œOf course, of course. Good for you. Bravo,” said Aimée as she straddled her bicycle. “You can all stick with your husbands. Stupid cows.”
    She rode away on the Raleigh, pedaling vigorously. Whichever way you go, there is a big hill to climb before you get out of Bléville. Aimée headed east, inland. She climbed the entire hillside standing. By the time she reached the top of the hill, she was panting, her forehead was running with sweat, and her armpits smelled rank. Sitting back down on the saddle, she raced along the even road. Her teeth were bared; she was excited. In a few minutes she reached the hamlet where Baron Jules lived. The baron invited her in. He was wearing blue jeans and a check cotton shirt frayed and fluffy at the collar and cuffs, along with a velvet jacket. Aimée told him what had been happening. She described the scene at the Moutets. The baron asked her why she had come straight to him to retail all this.
    â€œI thought it would amuse you,” she answered.
    â€œYou certainly thought no such thing!” scolded the baron with irritation. The approach of nightfall made it very dark in the cluttered living room. The nobleman switched on a lamp with a shade and stared suspiciously at Aimée, who had sat down in an armchair with broken springs. “Think how long I have been observing those people, my God! I have been observing them for thirty years and more, it must be nearly forty now, yes indeed! Well, in all that time they have not given me a single moment’s amusement. They make me want to vomit and destroy them.”
    â€œYes,” said Aimée, “precisely. But I’ll believe it when I see it.” She shook her head violently, as though to get her thoughts straight or shake off an unpleasant memory. She had the blank look of someone suddenly unable to see the necessity of what they have decided to do. But she quickly collected herself. “Yes, yes, yes, precisely,” she repeated, nodding and leaning forward excitedly. “Moutet is going to fight this. He needs weapons to do it—and allies. I daresay