The Lying Down Room (Serge Morel 1) (21 page)

He felt Solange’s hand on his thigh. She reached for his cock and laughed.

‘Again? My God, I don’t think I’ve ever felt you this hard.’

Solange bent her head towards him. He felt her nipples graze his chest and then his thighs. He raised his arms around his head and closed his eyes. He found in the midst of his pleasure that he
could conjure up Mathilde, just as if she were the one doing this to him. When he came he gritted his teeth so he would not say her name and shatter everything.

The wind kept coming, in sudden gusts that shook the car before abating again. The sky was a swirling mass of clouds. Raindrops rolled up the windshield, leaving a trembling
trail in their wake. Cars moved towards them on the opposite lane with their headlights on. Every once in a while, one of them would raise a wave of water and Morel would slow down and stare at the
blindness ahead, waiting to regain his sight.

Lila yawned.

‘What crappy weather.’

Morel had picked her up from her flat early so that they could get on to the A11 before the morning commuter rush.

Now she inclined her seat and put her feet up on the dashboard. One look from Morel, though, and the feet came down. She sighed.

‘What’s this music we’re listening to?’ she said after a long pause.

‘Andrés Segovia. One of the most famous classical guitar players ever.’

He glanced at her.

‘You can change it if you want.’

‘Nope, it’s fine.’

She yawned again.

‘How long till we get there?’ she asked.

Morel looked at the odometer.

‘Less than two hours.’

‘Thanks.’

He shook his head. Lila looked at him.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. For a moment there I thought I was travelling with a five-year-old, that’s all.’

There was another pause while she tried to come up with something smart to say, followed by a big sigh.

‘So this Segovia? Is he still alive?’

‘No.’

Lila snorted. ‘Thought so.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing.’

Halfway to Rennes Lila pleaded for a change of music. It was Fun Radio for the rest of the drive. When they reached the city they spent some time looking for a place where they could have an
early lunch before driving the next stretch to the village.

Once they’d decided where to eat, Morel found a place to park and turned the ignition off. The sounds of a band whose name Morel didn’t know died out. It had been like listening to a
pig being slaughtered, though Lila had declared it was one of her favourites. They would be touring Europe soon and she planned to go to their Paris concert.

Morel got out and stretched his legs. As he waited for Lila to get her things together and join him, he thought regretfully of the TGV train. The trip from Gare Montparnasse to Rennes was less
than two hours. He could have worn headphones.

They found the house easily once they were there.

‘Obviously everyone must know everyone in a place this small,’ Lila said. She wore a black sleeveless Puffa jacket, jeans and boots. Still she shivered and rubbed her hands.
‘You wouldn’t think it was the middle of summer, would you?’

‘No.’ Morel looked at the sky. ‘It looks like a proper storm coming.’

‘Coming? What do you mean? It’s been stormy for the past three hours.’

For some reason, Charles Berg was nothing like what Morel had expected. The man who opened the door had the look of an athlete. He was strong and well built, with a chiselled jaw and piercing
blue eyes.

Charles smiled at them, almost as though he’d been looking forward to their visit.

‘Make yourselves at home. I’ll get us some coffee.’

Inside they were led to a living and dining area that looked as though a hurricane had swept through it. There were books on the floor and clothes strewn across the room. A piece of half-eaten
toast lay buttered side down in the middle of the floor. Morel stepped around it and walked to the sliding glass panels at the back of the house.

The mess inside did not take anything away from the loveliness of the view from this room into the garden. The glass-panelled walls revealed a vista of apple trees and rose bushes. A tree house
and a tyre swing.

‘What a wonderful spot,’ Morel said. ‘A children’s paradise.’

‘I guess that’s the advantage of living in a place this small,’ Charles said. ‘The fact is you’d have to be a millionaire to own a house with a garden in Paris. And
I think the kids are better off growing up in a place like this than in the big city.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Won’t you sit down?’

Morel and Lila looked for a place where they might sit and finally perched themselves on the edge of a sofa littered with crumbs.

‘Coffee? With sugar?’

They both replied yes to the first question and no to the second. Charles switched the coffee maker on.

‘Sorry about the mess. It isn’t usually this bad,’ he said.

Lila gave Morel a look which he pretended not to see.

‘Please don’t apologize. It’s good of you to see us,’ Morel said.

‘Well, I’m happy to help.’ Charles handed two cups of coffee to them and pulled a dining-room chair over to where they sat. ‘If I can be of any help, that is. I’m
not sure where I fit in.’

‘We’ll fill you in, then,’ Lila said.

Morel pushed his knee against Lila’s as a warning to behave herself.

‘You probably know that your mother called us, to tell us about Armand Le Bellec. She said she saw him at her house,’ Morel began.

‘Yes, that’s right. I was there, in fact.’

‘Did you see him?’

‘No. But he gave my daughter quite a fright. He was lurking in the bushes for some reason.’

‘Your mother says the two of you went to school together.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Were you close?’

Charles took a sip from his cup. ‘Not particularly. I mean, when we were kids we did occasionally spend time together. But later we went our separate ways.’

‘When was the last time you saw him?’

Charles made a show of thinking, and shook his head slowly. ‘I can’t really remember. It was while we were still at school.’

‘Did you two fall out?’

Charles smiled. His teeth were perfectly aligned. ‘Like I said, we were not that close. There was no reason to fall out.’

‘Did he come to your house at all?’

Charles seemed to hesitate, then he shook his head to indicate no.

‘So you have no idea where we might find him?’

‘None at all, I’m afraid. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.’

‘One last thing: would you happen to have a photo of Armand?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Charles said.

‘Are you sure? A class photo, perhaps?’

‘I’m afraid not. I’m not very good at keeping that sort of thing.’

Lila looked at him. ‘Do you work out, Monsieur Berg?’

‘Yes I do.’

‘It must be hard to find the time, what with three young kids.’

‘Well, I get to travel a fair bit for my work. So I make the most of the work trips and I use the hotel gyms, I run—’

‘What do you do for a living?’

‘I work for Picard, the frozen-food company. As a senior representative.’

‘Interesting work?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Do you travel to Paris much?’

‘Yes, at least once or twice a month.’

‘Did you know that Armand Le Bellec is probably based in Paris these days?’

‘Like I said, we haven’t been in touch and I have no idea where he lives or what he does for a living,’ Charles said. He got up to put his cup on the kitchen bench. On his way
back he picked up several plastic dinosaurs that were lying on the floor.

‘If you have so little to do with Armand,’ Lila said, ‘and if you two were never that close, then why was he lurking in your mother’s back garden? Why was he spying on
your family?’

‘I really don’t know,’ Charles said.

He held Lila’s gaze for a while. Finally it was Morel who stood up and held out his hand.

‘Thank you for your time, Monsieur Berg. We’ll be dropping in on your mother and then heading back to Paris, no doubt.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,’ Charles said.

‘Where is your wife, Monsieur Berg?’ Lila asked as Charles walked them to the door.

‘She’s visiting her sister.’

The moment they’d left, the phone began ringing. Charles watched it, wondering whether to pick it up. In the end he reached over and held the receiver to his ear. He
listened to the woman’s voice at the other end tell him the thing he least wanted to hear.

‘Please,’ he whispered, his voice breaking. ‘Please don’t leave me.’

Outside the house they buttoned up their jackets. It was drizzling. Morel looked at Lila. Shifting from one foot to the other, biting her lip.

‘Interesting little exchange, wasn’t it?’ Morel said.

‘Did you notice how messy the place is? Dad’s home, looking after the kids, while Mum’s off visiting her sister. Doesn’t that seem a bit off to you?’

‘Maybe she’s taking a break, having some time alone.’

‘Maybe there’s something he isn’t telling us,’ Lila said as they got into Morel’s car. ‘Maybe we should talk to his wife.’

‘Maybe,’ Morel said, starting the car. ‘What I find interesting is how serene he was about this guy spying on his family like that. Neither angry nor worried. I mean, if it
were you, and someone you were at school with a long time ago, whom you weren’t particularly close to, turned up in your back garden out of the blue to spy on you and your family . .
.’

‘I’d give them a beating to remember.’ Lila rubbed her hands and raised herself slightly so she could sit cross-legged on the passenger seat. Morel pretended not to mind the
fact that her knee got in the way every time he had to change gear.

‘It’s as though he doesn’t see Le Bellec as a threat,’ Morel said slowly. ‘He knows enough about him to realize he has nothing to worry about.’

‘Either that or he’s lying about not seeing Le Bellec before he turned up at his mother’s house. Maybe he wasn’t surprised to see him because he already knew he’d
come back.’

Morel was thinking of Charles’s relaxed demeanour and wondering how much of that was real.

‘Let’s go back and get him to be a bit more forthcoming. Give Charlie-boy a bit of a grinding,’ Lila said.

‘No. We’ll go see Amelia Berg first. Maybe his mother will tell us something. We can always come back here later if we need to.’

Amelia Berg’s house was twice the size of her son’s. It was probably the most lavish one in the village. Charles must have given her a call to let her know they
were coming because she stood on the doorstep, holding an umbrella.

‘Come in, come in,’ she said.

Morel and Lila found themselves in a room with an open fire. The flames leaped high and the heat was almost too much. A grey Siamese cat lay on a chair in a comatose state and remained
unresponsive when the two visitors walked in. There was a smell of freshly baked apples.

‘I hope you don’t mind the fire, but I get cold very easily these days,’ Amelia Berg said. ‘We haven’t had much of a summer around here. It must be this global
warming they keep talking about.’

She invited them to sit down and left for a few seconds.

‘Did you talk to Charles?’ she called on her way back. She was carrying a tray. On it was a coffee pot and an apple pie. Morel shook his head to indicate he didn’t want any but
Lila accepted both a large slice of it and another cup of coffee.

‘It gave me quite a shock, I can tell you, when I realized he’d been lurking in my bushes,’ their hostess said, sitting opposite them.

Lila noticed the dirt under Amelia Berg’s nails. The coffee table held a couple of books on gardening. She took a big bite of the pie and sank back into the sofa.

Morel shot her an irritated look and turned to Madame Berg with a sympathetic smile. ‘I can imagine,’ he said. ‘When had you seen him last?’

‘Gosh, it must be, what – let me think. Sixteen years ago, I believe. He and Charles went to the same school, the local one – but after that they went their separate ways.
Charles did a business management degree and Armand went to Rennes to study, I think.’

‘The boys weren’t close?’ Lila asked with her mouth full.

A look flitted across Amelia Berg’s face, before she answered.

‘You know how it is, at school. One minute someone’s your best friend, the next they’re not. Friendships are made and unmade every day.’

Lila took the last of her slice of pie in her hand and put it in her mouth. When she’d finished, she licked her fingers.

‘So for a while they were best friends?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I suppose you could say that.’

Was it regret on the old woman’s face? It was hard to tell.

‘What happened?’ Lila asked. There was something they weren’t being told. She was determined to find out.

The old lady shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I think perhaps Armand disappointed Charles in some way.’

‘Disappointed? How?’ Morel asked.

Lila glanced at him. He was leaning forward, smiling. Doing that thing with his dimple, which seemed to affect most women regardless of how young or old they were.

Amelia Berg wavered, her lips opened as though she were about to say something. Then she visibly retreated.

‘I think Charles just felt that it was time to make new friends,’ she said in a way that suggested the topic was now closed.

There had been a moment there. Lila felt that the old woman had been on the verge of revealing something important. Something she might have wanted to get off her chest. But they would get
nothing more from her now.

‘Tell us a little bit about Armand’s mother,’ Morel said.

‘We had nothing to do with each other,’ Amelia Berg said. ‘She died some years ago.’

‘Did her son return for his mother’s funeral?’

‘No,’ Amelia Berg said. ‘It was a very small, quiet affair. A number of the women she knew from church went, but otherwise—’

‘Did you go?’

‘No,’ she said.

Lila changed tack. ‘What was she like, his mother?’ she asked.