Babayaga

this meant. She could not bear to leave him, she felt like a green branch being stripped from its trunk. But what Elga had said so many years ago was true, you can never run far with a man, no matter how strong they are, they only slow you down. She had wanted this though, they could have tried. She could have opened her heart and taught him her secrets. He was not like Leon, he was not like any of the others, she could have spared him. They could have lived on forever. Tears filled Zoya’s eyes as she reached to touch Will’s face.
    “Do not wake him, mademoiselle. Please, let him rest. He has been through so much,” said the detective, holding up a piece of paper. “We will leave him a note, yes?”

Book Five

Of course, in present-day France you have to say that everything’s fine, that everything’s lovely, including death.
— SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR , The Paris Review

I

    Maroc felt good as he strode down the street toward the office. He had spent the previous night in a room not far from the station with a bouncy, zaftig barmaid, Camille Vermillon. He rarely stayed through to the morning with her but the previous evening had sought her out with the full intention of burying himself deep in the folds of those generous bosoms straight through to the dawn. He had even called his wife before he went to hunt Camille down, telling Madame Maroc that he had important police business that would keep him at the office. Then he went to the bar. Camille was distant and pouty when he showed up, but after he had swatted her ass a few times and pushed her around a bit, she was ready to treat him right. He had needed it. The pressures of the previous weeks had been almost too much to endure. After a long night of great exertion, he had left his Camille a sulking pile of flesh, bruised and sore, smoking a cigarette in her bed and glaring at him as he pulled up his suspenders and left. He knew she would be there for him when he came back, some girls just needed it like that. He was thoroughly happy, reinvigorated, and relaxed, feeling as though he had just spent a week at a Swiss spa.
    Approaching the station, he suddenly felt even better. For as he neared the entrance, a familiar figure stepped out from the doorway, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. It was Vidot, right there before him, alive and in the flesh. Maroc was so surprised and relieved, he almost hugged his old antagonist. “Vidot, you silly fool! Where have you been?”
    The detective gave him a polite smile. “It is a rather long tale. I will put it all in my report and so I would rather not have to go through it twice. You can read it there later. But you will be pleased to learn that I have made an arrest in the Vallet case; she is resting in a cell downstairs.”
    “Really? That is wonderful news, and what about Bemm?”
    “I currently have some of our people looking into that. But I’m glad I caught up with you, I need your help this morning on another important arrest.”
    Maroc was even more pleased. “Another one? Is that why you’re dressed in uniform?”
    Vidot looked down at his clothes. “I needed some clothes, I was in a bit of a predicament. Luckily I had these at the station. Shall we go?”
    Maroc shook his head. “I shouldn’t. I have work to do, Vidot, get some other officer to help you.”
    “I’d happily do it on my own if I could, but I believe I will need your authority, for it is a very important arrest. Come, let us go.”
    Maroc threw out his hands. “Ah, I had forgotten what a frustrating man you can be, Vidot. You reappear out of nowhere, offering no explanation of where you have been or what you have been up to. You have nothing to say regarding the fate of your colleague Bemm. You vanish, lose your partner, and now you’re ordering me about? Who is in charge here?”
    Noticing that officers coming out of the station were staring at the two of them, Maroc grew a little self-conscious. He did not want to make a scene by losing his temper, but Vidot was especially skilled at getting under his skin.
    The detective was nonplussed by his superior’s outburst. “Of course, sir, you give the orders and I merely carry them out, but when I come across significant crimes being committed in our city that need a timely response, you will forgive me if I expect our leaders to respond forcefully,” he said.
    Maroc paused, looking Vidot over. The detective’s attitude repulsed him. As humble as the detective tried to sound