The Essence of Malice Read online

  There was a faraway look in her eyes as she related this part of the story, and I thought that some of the years had melted away from her face. For a moment, I saw what she must have looked like as a young woman.

  “You were in love with him,” Milo said suddenly, his sharp gaze on her face.

  She smiled, a bit sadly, I thought. “That is difficult to say. I certainly thought that I was, as a girl of eighteen. But what do the young really know of love?”

  This time Milo did glance briefly at me. I think we were both surprised at the turn this story had taken and were wondering where it would lead.

  “For a time I entertained hopes that we might be married, but it was not meant to be,” she said. “We parted ways.”

  It was an abrupt way to end a tale of romance. I was certain that there was more to that story than she was willing to tell at the moment, and I wondered what it was that had come between them.

  “Helios went off to see the world and shortly thereafter I got a position as a nanny. I went to England to begin my life there with you.” She smiled at Milo, and I could feel the warmth and affection in it.

  “And you didn’t hear from him again?” Milo asked.

  “Not until last year,” she said. “I was living in Lyon, having just left a post, when I received a letter from him. He told me that his first wife, Elena, had died. He had remarried and was wondering if I would be interested in a position as the nanny for his young child with his second wife.”

  “How insulting,” Milo said.

  She smiled gently. “It was no such thing. One cannot expect him to have held a tendresse for me after all these years. I thought it was kind of him to have remembered me at all and to have wanted to entrust me with the care of his child.”

  Milo didn’t look convinced, and I was somewhat in agreement with him. It seemed to me that Helios Belanger must have had some motivation for seeking out a woman he had not seen in thirty years to be the nanny of his child with a young wife.

  “And so I went to work at his house,” she continued. “He was very much changed, but at first I still saw some hints of the boy I had known in the man he had become. He was very kind to me when I arrived.”

  “Was he indeed?” Milo asked, reaching for another cigarette from the box on the table.

  “You mustn’t frown so, mon cher,” she said. “There was nothing between us that was romantic, no lingering hint of love. I barely saw Helios after my arrival. What is more, I had not been in the house long before I began to sense that something was amiss.”

  “How so?” Milo asked.

  “It is difficult for me to say exactly. The child, Seraphine, is perfectly lovely. The young wife, too, is very pleasant. Yet there has been something wrong. It is difficult for me to put into words what I mean. It was just that there was a great uneasiness in the house. The atmosphere was strained. Despite all appearances, it was not a happy home. At first, I thought little of it. I have worked in many unhappy homes, after all.”

  I glanced at Milo, wondering if this included his, but his expression was unreadable. He had never spoken much about his childhood. His father had died when Milo was at university, but I had never had the impression that Milo had mourned him much.

  “But then things began to get worse,” she said softly.

  “In what way?” I asked.

  “As I said, the Helios Belanger that I began to work for, the one whose name was in all the advertisements, was much changed from the boy I had known. Though our paths rarely crossed, it was plain enough to me what he was. This man had become a tyrant. He was unpredictable, often irrational, and ruled over his business—and his family—with a will of iron.”

  “That has been known to cause unhappiness,” Milo commented. “Who else is in the house?”

  “All his children live with him. I had the impression he wanted always to keep them near him. There are two sons and an older daughter, in addition to the child. Anton is the eldest. He’s very serious, very reserved. He has always been his father’s right hand, but I do not think his heart is in it. To Anton, the scent of money surpasses all else.

  “The same cannot not be said for the eldest daughter, Cecile. She shares her father’s love, his passion, for perfumery. She spends hours in the greenhouse and the laboratory that Helios built for her, creating and perfecting scents. Also like her father, she has a very strong will, and is often in conflict with her brothers.”

  She paused almost unnoticeably before adding. “And then there is Michel, the younger son. He has a very bad reputation.”

  “Yes,” Milo said. “Michel Belanger and I are acquainted.”

  Somehow I was not surprised to hear that the black sheep of the Belanger family should be acquainted with my husband. Milo had spent a good deal of time in Paris, and the wanton younger son of an illustrious household seemed like the sort of company he would keep.

  Madame Nanette nodded, as though she, too, was not surprised. “He is handsome, spends far too much time drinking and carousing, and there have been a number of scandals with women. He has an unruly temper, as well, and there was an incident with a woman’s husband that Monsieur Belanger paid a good deal to keep quiet.”

  “What kind of incident?”

  “I do not know the details, but I believe the husband was badly injured.”

  This Michel Belanger sounded like an unsavory character indeed.

  “What about the young wife?” Milo asked. “What’s she like?”

  “She is English and very pretty,” Madame Nanette said. “Her name was Beryl Norris before she married. She came from a good family in Portsmouth. From what I understand, Helios met her when he was on holiday and had married her by the time he returned home, which was a great shock to his children. I cannot say much about her, but I think she is a good mother. I don’t know if she loved Helios when she married him, but she loves her child.”

  “And so they all live together in the big house in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, this unhappy little family,” Milo said. “When was it that it dawned on you that they might be more than just unhappy?”

  Madame Nanette seemed to consider the question. “I think it first began to seem evident around six months ago. Monsieur Belanger and Monsieur Michel quarreled loudly one night. That was not unusual. They often quarreled. I thought very little of it at the time.”

  “But you thought of it later,” I said.

  She nodded. “The following morning Helios left early, went to Grasse.”

  “Where his factory is located,” Milo supplied. Grasse was home to many perfume factories, the climate making it particularly suitable for growing jasmine, lavender, and other flowers widely used in perfumery.

  “Yes. He came back a few days later and was sullen, grim. It seemed from then on that he became erratic in his moods, pleasant one moment and surly the next. Every so often, I would see him staring into the distance, as though something weighed heavily on his mind.

  “And then everyone began to seem very much ill at ease in his presence. Mademoiselle Cecile often tensed when he spoke. What had been an unhappy household became something worse. Something had changed. There was something heavier in the air. Fear. Perhaps even malice.”

  “This is all very interesting,” Milo said.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Perhaps we should find a way to introduce ourselves to Monsieur Belanger.”

  She looked up, her dark eyes troubled. “That’s just it. That is how my suspicions were confirmed. Helios Belanger is dead.”

  4

  “DEAD?” I REPEATED, shocked. This was not at all how I had expected her story to end. “How? When did this happen? Surely we would have heard something about it.” Then I thought of Winnelda’s dismay at the “old man” on the cover of all the Paris gossip magazines. I wondered if that man had been Helios Belanger.

  “It happened only three days ago,” Madame Nanette said. “Rather suddenly.”

  There was something in her tone that gave me pause, and the famili
ar sensation of unease began to creep along my spine.

  Milo did not seem to be suffering from the same shock, for his tone was completely unmoved as he asked, “Sudden, was it?”

  She looked at him, and it seemed to me that there was some sort of unspoken communication that passed between them. They understood each other. I fought down a bit of envy, for it was almost always impossible for me to tell what Milo was thinking.

  “Yes,” she said. “It has been blamed on an aeroplane crash.”

  I couldn’t help but shoot a significant glance at Milo. I knew that flying was unsafe, and this was proof of just what I had been worrying about.

  “He went to visit his factory in Grasse two nights before his death. He was finalizing the plans for his newest perfume with the manager of his factory. When he arrived back in Paris, he had some difficulty with the landing. The plane landed roughly, veered badly, and ended up smashing its nose into the ground.”

  “And he was hurt?”

  “They said he did not appear to be. He got out under his own power, and waved away the men who had rushed to help him.”

  “He was alone?”

  “Yes. He had taken up flying over the past year. He found it a more convenient way to get to Grasse. He could get to his factories much more often.”

  “Was it a problem with the plane?” Milo asked.

  “The plane was badly damaged, of course, but I have not heard that they found there to be any trouble with it.” She hesitated. “It … it was assumed that there was something wrong with Monsieur Belanger.”

  “Intoxicated?” Milo asked. I glanced at him. He was leaning forward slightly, his gaze particularly intent. I seldom saw him take such an interest in anything, but it appeared he was intrigued.

  “I do not know. I think that is what they assumed. They said he appeared a bit dazed, was unsteady on his feet.”

  “I see,” Milo said.

  “Then again, it may have been that the crash upset him,” Madame Nanette added. “Such a thing is enough to try anyone’s nerves.”

  “Yes, of course,” Milo replied.

  She smiled. “You needn’t humor me, cherie. I know you think that my feelings may cloud the issue, but I can assure you that is not the case. I do not think he was drunk because he was not a man to drink to excess. He liked always to retain control of his senses, even as a young man. He told me once that his mind was his most powerful weapon and he didn’t like to dull it.”

  Milo seemed to accept this. “Was his driver there to pick him up?”

  She shook her head. “No. He had left his automobile there, and they said that he insisted on driving himself home.”

  It seemed a rather reckless action for them to have let him drive home alone, considering he had just crashed an aeroplane. Then again, I suspected Helios Belanger was not the type of man against whom one would easily win an argument when he had made up his mind to do something.

  “He made it home all right?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. The butler let him in, and did not notice anything particularly amiss. He said Monsieur Belanger seemed a bit tired, said he leaned a bit heavily on the bannister, but he did not think much of it. The next day he seemed much better, and the matter was all but forgotten. But two days later he was gone. He had had a pleasant meal with his family that final night and the next morning the maid … found him.”

  “The maid?” Milo asked. “His wife was not in bed with him?”

  It was something of a personal question, but Madame Nanette did not seem taken aback by it.

  “No,” she said. “They keep separate rooms.” It was not an unusual practice, but it did lead me to wonder what the relationship between Helios Belanger and his young wife was like.

  “What did the official report say?” Milo asked, voicing my own question.

  “Heart failure.”

  “Brought on, perhaps, by shock from the crash,” Milo said.

  “Yes.” One look at Madame Nanette’s face, however, was enough to convince me that she did not believe the simplest explanation to be the true one.

  “But?” Milo prodded her.

  “But Helios has always been possessed of excellent health. I don’t believe for a moment that there was anything wrong with his heart. His own doctor seemed very much surprised.”

  I didn’t argue, but I did not think it was entirely unlikely that heart failure might have been the cause of his death. A man of volatile personality with family troubles and an empire worth millions to run might certainly have been under a great deal of strain. Such things were hard on the heart.

  “If it wasn’t his heart, what was it?” Milo asked.

  She met his gaze, her expression grim. “I believe he was murdered.”

  I had suspected, somehow, that she was coming to this, but it was still something of a surprise to hear the words uttered aloud.

  It seemed that Milo had been anticipating a similar revelation, for he did not look at all taken aback by her announcement.

  “You think the aeroplane crash might have been the first attempt on his life?” Milo asked.

  “It is possible,” she said. “He might have been drugged or poisoned, the killer hoping that he would die in the crash. When that did not work, the second attempt proved successful.”

  “Who was there the night before he died?” Milo asked.

  “The entire family plus Herr Jens Muller, the German sculptor. Everyone ate the same things at dinner, but anyone might have introduced something into his after-dinner drink. He usually took a glass of brandy as a digestif.”

  “And is there a suspect you have in mind?” I asked, unable to keep silent any longer.

  She glanced at me, a rueful smile flickering across her mouth. “That’s just the thing, Amory. There are too many. As much as it pains me to say it, I fear that any of them might be capable of it.”

  “And what is it that you would like me to do?” Milo asked.

  I disliked that he had said “me” instead of “us,” but I decided to let it pass for the moment. We could argue about my involvement after Madame Nanette had gone.

  “I can’t, of course, go to the police,” she said. “I have no proof. They would laugh at me. Even if I did have evidence, it would be unlikely that they would take the word of a nanny over one of the most influential families in Paris.”

  “And so you would like us to look into the matter?” I said.

  She nodded. “I know that you have been instrumental in solving other crimes of this nature, and I thought that you might be able to find out something that I cannot. You will be able to interact with the family and those they know. It would cause suspicion for me to ask questions, but they will talk to you. There may be something that you can do.”

  “Then again, there may be nothing,” Milo said. It was put a bit bluntly, but he was right. I didn’t see what there was that we could do. How could we find evidence of a murder, especially one that had been officially declared a natural death?

  “That is true,” she said, “but if we have done all we can, then that will have to suffice.”

  Milo smiled. “‘Your best will suffice.’ I remember you told me that often.”

  She returned his smile. “It is still true.”

  “Then we will do our best,” Milo said.

  “That is all I ask.” She rose from her seat. “Now I suppose I must be getting back. This is not really my evening off, but Madame Belanger has been sitting with Seraphine at night since her husband’s death, and I knew that it would be all right for me to come to see you.”

  “You don’t have to work, you know,” Milo said, his tone edged with the faintest tinge of impatience. “I do wish you’d cash the cheques I’ve sent you.”

  “I don’t need your money.” Her tone was stern, but her dark eyes were smiling. “Working with children keeps me young.”

  I believed her. There was something very youthful and alive in her expression. I could see why Milo had adored her as a child.
/>   She smiled then, mischievously. “Perhaps someday when I am old, I will accept it.”

  Milo sighed, but his amusement was plain on his face. “Very well. Let me know when that day comes.”

  “It will not be soon, I can assure you.”

  “You’ll likely outlive us all,” he said.

  This seemed to please her, and she let the matter of money drop. “Thank you for having me. I’m so glad that I was able to talk to you. You will let me know if you have made progress?”

  “Certainly,” Milo said, “though I feel it is probably best that we don’t make our connection known.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I thought the same.”

  “When is your next day off?”

  “Tuesday.” That was five days away. I wondered if we would have anything to report by then.

  “Come have tea with us then,” Milo said. “If something arises beforehand, send a message and I will arrange to meet you.”

  “Very well.” She hesitated. “You will be careful?”

  “Of course.”

  Her gaze narrowed, and for a moment I could imagine it must have been the look she had given Milo when he was a naughty child challenging her nursery rule. “I mean it. I do not want you putting yourself in danger as you have done in the past. I have read of your exploits.”

  “Amory’s exploits, you mean,” Milo said. “She’s the one who insists on taking risks.”

  “You needn’t worry,” I hurried to assure her. “We will be very careful.”

  She studied me for a moment as though to make sure I meant it. Then she nodded. “I thank you for what you are doing.” She kissed us both and then Milo walked her to the door and she was gone.

  I stared for a moment at the closed door, trying to take in all that had just happened. In all my worries about Madame Nanette’s problem, I had not thought it would be something like this. Perhaps, given my recent history, I should not have been quite so astonished.