Bloody Love (by Omar Kamal)...Part.4

Inspector Leveuf and Valerie arrived to the building where the owner of the second number lives. They searched for the bell of a young man named Olivier Dubois. Olivier was a young man of 29 years of age; he worked as a professional dancer and a teacher at the dance school where Madame Lenoir attended. The inspector rang on the bell of the young man, a male voice answered;

“Hello.”

The inspector answered back saying; “Hello Monsieur Dubois, this is inspector Leveuf and Mademoiselle Carion from the police. Could you please let us in, we have a few questions to ask you regarding Madame Lenoir.”

“Ah yes!” replied Olivier; “I was expecting you guys would come sooner or later, please come in, I’m on the third floor.”

The inspector and Valerie walked up the third floor, there they found a young handsome man, with shoulder long curly brown hair, an unshaved beard, perfectly fit body, white fair skin and crystal blue eyes, waiting for them at the entrance of his apartment.

“Please come in” said Olivier with a calm voice.

They walked into the apartment; it was a small apartment with one bedroom, a living room and a separate kitchen corner with a bar opening on the living room. On the walls were hanged paintings of dancers, pictures of Paris and New York, a few old pictures of people, possibly family members, and a tribal African mask, just above the television.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” asked Olivier with a calm and stable voice.

“Thank you Monsieur Dubois, I would rather get directly to business.” Said the inspector; “You said you were expecting us. Why is that?”

Olivier smiled, and as he sat down on the couch he said; “Well, I knew that sooner or later you would find out that I have a connection with Amelie, and you would surely come to understand better this connection. It’s such a great loss; she was such an amazing woman. Whoever did this should get the worse punishment possible. Please inspector, Mademoiselle, have a seat.”

Inspector Leveuf sat down and said calmly; “Well, I suppose this makes our job easier, we can skip the introduction of the case and why we are here, since you obviously know this already. So let me get to the first question. What is your connection with Amelie Lenoir?”

Olivier smiled again and replied; “Isn’t it obvious? I was her lover.”

A silence reigned in the room. Valerie’s face had an expression of surprise; she couldn’t believe how calm and straight forward the young man was. The inspector on the other hand; seemed to appreciate this.

“Could you please tell us Monsieur Dubois how exactly you met with Madame Lenoir and how your affair started?” asked the inspector.

“It was about four months ago when I first met Amelie at the dance school. I was giving lessons at that time, at the same time slot as she had her classes. I met her one day as we left the school; she seemed to be somewhat stressed, waiting outside the building. I asked her if everything is alright, and she explained that her husband was supposed to pick her up, but he had just called saying he cannot make it as he is feeling sick, and she should find a way to get home. So I offered her a ride with my car. We met in the hallways several times after that and talked, and one day I invited her to go out for dinner after the lesson, and we did. Things then evolved from there.”

“Did you continue giving the same lessons after your affair started?” asked the inspector.

“No, I requested a change of time slot, so I could give the lessons before her class, so that way she could come to me during the time that she would normally have a class. It seemed the best way to meet and have our private time.”

“Did you have any fights or any type of disagreement in the past months since your affair started?”

“No, never. The time we spent together was for our pleasure and happiness. I loved her and she loved me. We didn’t want to spoil what we had, I wanted to get her out of the misery she had in her marriage, so I would never allow myself to argue with her about anything.”

“What makes you so sure she loved you? I mean after all, she was a happily married woman.”

“She loved me; I knew it, because she said it and I could see it in her behaviour. And she was not a happily married woman. All the feelings in her married life had gone dry; her husband didn’t care for her or what was happening in her life, so naturally she lost the love she had for him.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe she was in need of some source of affection and care, and you seemed to be the perfect candidate, but that at the end of the day, she still held on to her husband. That you basically were just a tool to fill her emotional vacuum?”

Olivier’s face lost the hidden smile, and anger seemed to rise in his eyes as he replied; “She loved me I’m telling you! She was planning to leave her husband for me! That’s why she was killed!”

“What do you mean?” asked the inspector.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? Her husband found out about us, he knew she was about to leave him for me, for her true love, for true happiness, and he couldn’t handle it. So he killed her in this horrific way!”

“That is quite a serious accusation Monsieur Dubois.” said Valerie.

“It is the truth, it makes sense and you know it!” replied Olivier with an emotional voice.

“What we know Monsieur Dubois.” Said the inspector calmly; “Is that a woman was brutally murdered. The question as to who did it, will be determined through our investigation. Now please tell us what happened between you two on the night she disappeared?”

“Nothing; she didn’t actually come to see me that night at all. I waited for her and around 9PM I tried to call her several times, but got no answer from her.”

“What did you do during that time when you waited?”

“I just stayed home. Made dinner for two, as I thought she would come, even if a bit late. I had my dinner a bit after 9PM, and then went to bed by midnight.”

“Why did you not contact the police the next day when she didn’t show up and didn’t answer your calls?”

“Well, I thought that maybe she had some issue with her husband and couldn’t come or answer me. And even if I would have wanted to contact the police, I could have never done it, otherwise I would raise the suspicion in her husband, he would wonder who I am and why I am looking for her, then she would definitely be in danger.”

“What did you have or dinner on that day Monsieur Dubois?” asked the inspector.

“Excuse me?” Reacted Olivier with a surprise.

“On the evening of Madame Le noir’s disappearance, what did you have for dinner?”

“I don’t remember, it must have been something quick and simple, pasta maybe or rice.”

“You must have made something more interesting, no? After all, you met her only once a week. I would definitely make something special then for the evening. Not to mention that you cooked for two people, so the food must have remained for the next day as well, no?” asked Inspector Leveuf with a somewhat friendly tone.

Olivier scratched his head as he struggled to remember, and in a moment of inspiration he reacted; “Ah yes, now I remember! I believe I made some rice with chicken curry and a hummus on the side.”

The inspector smiled and said; “Ah, there we go, now that sounds special.”

A few minutes later, the inspector and Valerie thanks the young man for his time as they left the apartment, and promised to inform him of any updates they will reach in the investigation.

As they walked out the building, inspector Leveuf looked at Valerie and told her; “Get me two surveillance patrols on the houses of Monsieur Lenoir and Lonsieur Dubois. I want them to watch their every single move, until I order otherwise.”

“Consider it done inspector.”

That evening, inspector Leveuf stood in his apartment by the window watching out on the city as he smoked his last cigarette of the day. He struggled with his mind to think who could be the murder of poor Madame Lenoir. He knew that one of the two men must have done it. They were the only ones who would have the motif to kill her, but both had an alibi so trivial, it must be true. Neither of them could prove he was home at the time of the murder, but no evidence was there to prove the opposite. He had to find a way to find the truth, to reach it, and there was one thing he needed for that; a mistake.

*****