Chapter 19 Chapter Eighteen

In the big house on Du Bois Avenue, Dieter took Stephanie's suitcase upstairs and went into Mademoiselle Remus's bedroom. He looked at everything here, the neatly made single bed, the old-fashioned walnut wardrobe, a prayer chair and a rosary on the lectern. "It's not easy to pretend this is your own home," he said uneasily, putting the box on the bed. "I'd say I inherited it from my maiden aunt, and I couldn't be bothered to fix it to my own taste," she said. "Clever, but you'd have to make a little more mess in here, too." She opened the suitcase, took out a pair of black pajamas, and laid it casually on the prayer chair.

"That's better," Dieter said. "What do you do if the phone rings?" Stephanie thought for a while before she spoke, lowering her voice, changing her Parisian accent for a cultivated provincial accent: "Hello, yes, I'm Mademoiselle Remus, may I Who are you?" "Fine," Dieter said.This kind of pretense cannot deceive close relatives and friends, but people who call by chance will not notice that there is anything wrong, especially because the phone line will cause distortion, which makes it even more difficult to distinguish the authenticity from the fake.

They looked around the house.There were four other bedrooms in the house, each ready for guests, with beds made and fresh towels on each washstand.In the kitchen, where a small saucepan and a single-serve coffee pot should have been, they found a large saucepan and a bag of rice that would last Miss Remus for a year.The wine in the cellar was cheap and ordinary, but there were half-cases of good Scotch.In the garage next to the house sat a small pre-war Simca V, the French version of the Fiat known in Italian as a Topolino.The car is in good condition and the tank is full of gasoline.He cranked the starter handle and the engine started revving immediately.There was no way the authorities would allow Miss Remus to buy scarce gasoline and spare parts for the car, so she could drive it to the shops.The car must have been fueled and maintained by the Resistance.He didn't know what excuses she would make up, explaining that she could drive around, that maybe she could pretend to be a midwife. "The old cow keeps everything in order," Dieter said.

Stephanie started to prepare lunch, and they did some shopping along the way.There was no fish or meat in the shop, and they bought a little mushrooms and lettuce, and a loaf of white bread, which was all they could get from the poor flour and bran of a French baker.Stephanie made a salad, risotto with mushrooms, and they ate up some cheese they found in the pantry.Now, with crumbs on the dining room table and dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, the house looks like it's occupied. "It can be said that the war gave her a better life than ever before." Dieter said.They start drinking coffee.

"How can you say that? She's gone to a POW camp." "Think about her life before. A single woman, no husband, no family, parents dead, and then these young men came into her life, brave girls and boys risking their lives. They would talk to her Their love, their fear. She hid them in her house, gave them whiskey and cigarettes, and sent them on their way, wishing them luck. It was probably the most exciting moment of her life. I bet, She's never been happier." "Maybe she'd rather live in peace, buy hats with other women, arrange flowers for the cathedral, go to a concert in Paris once a year."

"No one really likes a quiet life." Dieter glanced out the dining room window. "Damn it!" A young woman pushed a bicycle into the lane with a large basket on the front wheel. "Who is this?" Stephanie stared at the approaching visitor. "what should I do?" Dieter didn't answer right away.The intruder was an ordinary, neither fat nor thin girl, with mud on her trousers and a large sweat stain under the armpit of her work shirt.She didn't ring the doorbell and pushed the bicycle directly into the yard.He was a little discouraged.Could it be that his tricks were revealed so quickly?

"She's gone to the back door. It may be a relative or a friend. You have to play it by ear and deal with it. Go out and meet her. I'll listen here." They heard the kitchen door opening and closing, and the girl called out in French, "Good morning, it's me." Stephanie walked into the kitchen.Dieter stood waiting by the door of the dining room, where he could be heard clearly.The girl was taken aback and asked, "Who are you?" "I'm Stephanie, Miss Remus' niece." The visitor made no secret of his suspicions. "I didn't hear she had a niece."

"She didn't tell me about you either." Dieter heard Stephanie's kind and pleasant voice, knowing that she was pretending to be close. "Please sit down for a while, what's in the basket?" "It's all about food. My name is Mary, and I live in the country. I can get some more groceries, and I'll give some to Miss . . . " "Oh," Stephanie said, "it's for her...guests." With a rustling sound, Dieter guessed that Stephanie was looking at the paper-wrapped food in the basket. "This is so good! Eggs... Pork... Strawberries..."

Dieter thought, no wonder Miss Remus can always maintain a plump figure. "So, you know," said Mary. "Yes, I know about my aunt's secret life." Hearing her say "aunt", Dieter suddenly thought that neither he nor Stephanie had ever asked Miss Remus's name.If Mary discovers that Stephanie doesn't even know her "aunt"'s name, the pretense will be broken. "Where is she?" "She's gone to Aix. Do you remember Charles Menton, who used to be dean of the cathedral?" "No, I do not know." "Maybe you're too young. Charles was my aunt's father's best friend, and he retired to Provence." Stephanie improvised brilliantly, impressing Dieter.She is calm and imaginative, "He suddenly had a heart attack, and she went to take care of him. If there are guests when she is out, she asks me to help take care of him."

"When will she be back?" "Charles doesn't look like he's going to live very long. On the other hand, the war is almost over." "She hasn't told anyone about this Charles." "She told me." Looks like Stephanie will get away with it this time, Dieter thought.If she persisted a little longer, Mary would believe her and go away.Mary might tell others about it, but Stephanie said it right, and that sort of thing was common in the Resistance.Unlike the military, a person like Miss Remus might leave his post and let someone else take his place.This situation will naturally drive the leaders of the resistance organization crazy, but they can do nothing, after all, the entire team is composed of volunteers.

He felt hopeful again. "Where are you from?" Mary asked. "I live in Paris." "Does your aunt Valerie have any other nieces?" Oh, thought Dieter, Miss Remus's name is Valerie. "Not anymore—at least I don't know." "You are a liar." Mary's voice changed.Something must have gone wrong.Dieter sighed and drew an automatic pistol from under his coat. Stephanie said, "What the hell are you talking about?" "You're talking nonsense. You don't even know her name. Her name isn't Valerie at all. Her name is Jenny." Dieter thumbed the safety catch to the left, leaving the pistol fired. Stephanie didn't buy it, and continued: "I've been calling her aunt. You are too rude." Mary said contemptuously, "I could see it from the beginning. Jenny would never trust someone like you who wears high heels and wears perfume." Dieter walked into the kitchen a few steps. "It's a pity, Mary," he said, "that if you had been a little more credulous, or a little more stupid, you might have walked away. But now you're under arrest." Mary looked at Stephanie and said, "You Gestapo bitch." The hurtful taunt was so strong that Stephanie blushed instantly. Enraged, Dieter nearly smoked Marie with a pistol. "When you're in the hands of the Gestapo, you know you shouldn't say things like that," he said coldly. "There, Sergeant Becker will interrogate you. When you're screaming in pain, bleeding, and begging for mercy, Think about how you insult people casually." Marie seemed to run away, and Dieter even hoped that she would run away, so that he could just shoot her and the problem would be solved.But instead of running, her shoulders slumped and she began to cry. Tears could not move him. "Lie face down on the floor with your hands behind your back." Mary did. He put away the pistol. "I see ropes in the cellar," he said to Stephanie. "I'll get it." She came back with a clothesline.Dieter bound Marie's hands and feet. "I have to take her back to Sainte-Cecile," he said, "can't leave her here, the British agents may come today." He looked at his watch. It was two o'clock in the afternoon.He had plenty of time to take her to the castle and be back at three o'clock. "You'll have to go to the church basement alone," he said to Stephanie, "in the little car in the garage. I'll go to the cathedral too, but you probably won't see me." He kissed her.It's almost like a husband leaving home to go to work in the office, he thought to himself mockingly.Then he lifted Mary and carried her on his shoulders. "I've got to hurry up," he said, heading for the back door. When he went out, he turned around and said, "Hide the bicycle." "Don't worry," she replied. Dieter carried the tied girl on his back through the yard and onto the street.He opened the trunk of the car and put Mary in.If it hadn't been for her "bitch," he would have let her sit in the backseat. He closed the hood with a bang and looked around.There was no one, but there were always various observers on this street, peering through their shutters.They would have seen Miss Remus being taken away yesterday, and they might have remembered this big sky blue car.As soon as his car drives away, these guys talk about a guy who just put a girl in the trunk of his car.Ordinarily, they might have called the police, but in the occupied territories, no one wanted to talk to the police unless they had to, especially if the Gestapo were involved. For Dieter, the key question is whether the resistance has learned that Miss Remus has been arrested.Reims is a city, not a small village.People are arrested here every day, thieves, murderers, smugglers, black market dealers, communists, Jews.It is possible that Michel Clarette had not heard of what had happened on Du Bois Avenue. But there are no guarantees. Dieter got into the car and drove towards Saint-Cécile.