Death in the City of Light: The Serial Killer of Nazi-Occupied Paris by David King
Authors: David King
Ads: Link
seeing the murder suspect on the morning of Saturday, March 11. Neuhausen had been in Paris on business, and as a favor for Monique, he had stopped by Petiot’s apartment on rue Caumartin about eleven o’clock to fetch a pair of shoes for Gérard.
“We spoke of things without importance,” Neuhausen said. “The doctor gave me the shoes for his son and a quarter of an hour later, I left.” He took the 5:20 train at Gare de Lyon, arriving at Auxerre at 9:40, and while he had intended to bike home, it was raining and he decided to stay the night at rue des Lombards, just as Monique said. He told detectives that this was all he knew about the matter.
O N Tuesday, March 14, an investigator spotted an attractive woman in a black skirt and a black astrakhan coat, carrying an expensive yellow leather suitcase. She was standing on the platform waiting for a train at the Auxerre station. Slim and petite, she had deep brown eyes and black shoulder-length hair with a few locks falling onto her forehead. She was just four months shy of her fortieth birthday, though she looked much younger. When the policeman approached, the woman did not deny her identity.“I have done nothing wrong,” Georgette Petiot protested,before collapsing on the platform. Two gendarmes carried her out of the station.One young man assisted the police, crying all the while. This was her son, Gérard.
Massu, informed of the arrest, returned at once to the Auxerre police station. Georgette was taken to his car. Already in the vehicle was her brother-in-lawMaurice, who had been apprehended the previous night when he returned home from the nearby villages of Cheney and Joigny. Georgette rested her head on his shoulder. Her “short sobs” broke up the otherwise silent ride back to Paris.
7.
“BESIDE A MONSTER”
H ELP us FIND YOUR HUSBAND . W E’LL HELP YOU ESTABLISH THE TRUTH .
—Commissaire Massu to Georgette Petiot
N EWS of the arrests spread quickly, and when Massu’s car approached his office on the Quai des Orfèvres, a crowd of reporters and photographers was already waiting. Commissaire Massu helped Georgette and Maurice Petiot out of the car, trying to shield them from the cameras popping and flashing in a disorienting barrage of blue magnesium light.
Massu was particular about how he wanted to question suspects. For one thing, he preferred to interrogate them alone, or in the company of a deputy who remained silent. A room full of police officers and observers posed far too many problems. Countless interrogations, Massu knew, had been derailed by an untimely interruption from an aggressive yet inexperienced officer.
Above all, Massu believed in dealing mainly in hard evidence and rational deductions grounded in fact. He would first attempt to gain an early admission, however insignificant, that would penetrate the defenses a suspect had almost invariably constructed. Then he would proceed as soon as possible to the moment that he called “the intrusion of an elephant into a porcelain shop”—that is, the awkward question, based on evidence and the suspect’s previous admissions, that simply could not be parried without making a major contradiction or otherwise losing credibility.
The commissaire showed Georgette Petiot to her seat in his officeand asked her if she would like a drink, which she refused. Then, as customary,Massu stalled a few minutes before launching into his questions. He tidied the papers on his desk, walked to the window, and gazed out onto the Pont Neuf. He saw cyclists crossing the bridge, some of thetwo million bicycles in Paris, the new ones then selling for almost as much as an automobile had only five years before. Massu wondered if Marcel Petiot had also biked across the bridge, towing who knows what in his cart.
Massu turned back to face the suspect’s wife. “Well, Madame Petiot, what do you know? No need to rush, we have a lot of time. Begin where you would like.”
“I must say that I was unaware of
“We spoke of things without importance,” Neuhausen said. “The doctor gave me the shoes for his son and a quarter of an hour later, I left.” He took the 5:20 train at Gare de Lyon, arriving at Auxerre at 9:40, and while he had intended to bike home, it was raining and he decided to stay the night at rue des Lombards, just as Monique said. He told detectives that this was all he knew about the matter.
O N Tuesday, March 14, an investigator spotted an attractive woman in a black skirt and a black astrakhan coat, carrying an expensive yellow leather suitcase. She was standing on the platform waiting for a train at the Auxerre station. Slim and petite, she had deep brown eyes and black shoulder-length hair with a few locks falling onto her forehead. She was just four months shy of her fortieth birthday, though she looked much younger. When the policeman approached, the woman did not deny her identity.“I have done nothing wrong,” Georgette Petiot protested,before collapsing on the platform. Two gendarmes carried her out of the station.One young man assisted the police, crying all the while. This was her son, Gérard.
Massu, informed of the arrest, returned at once to the Auxerre police station. Georgette was taken to his car. Already in the vehicle was her brother-in-lawMaurice, who had been apprehended the previous night when he returned home from the nearby villages of Cheney and Joigny. Georgette rested her head on his shoulder. Her “short sobs” broke up the otherwise silent ride back to Paris.
7.
“BESIDE A MONSTER”
H ELP us FIND YOUR HUSBAND . W E’LL HELP YOU ESTABLISH THE TRUTH .
—Commissaire Massu to Georgette Petiot
N EWS of the arrests spread quickly, and when Massu’s car approached his office on the Quai des Orfèvres, a crowd of reporters and photographers was already waiting. Commissaire Massu helped Georgette and Maurice Petiot out of the car, trying to shield them from the cameras popping and flashing in a disorienting barrage of blue magnesium light.
Massu was particular about how he wanted to question suspects. For one thing, he preferred to interrogate them alone, or in the company of a deputy who remained silent. A room full of police officers and observers posed far too many problems. Countless interrogations, Massu knew, had been derailed by an untimely interruption from an aggressive yet inexperienced officer.
Above all, Massu believed in dealing mainly in hard evidence and rational deductions grounded in fact. He would first attempt to gain an early admission, however insignificant, that would penetrate the defenses a suspect had almost invariably constructed. Then he would proceed as soon as possible to the moment that he called “the intrusion of an elephant into a porcelain shop”—that is, the awkward question, based on evidence and the suspect’s previous admissions, that simply could not be parried without making a major contradiction or otherwise losing credibility.
The commissaire showed Georgette Petiot to her seat in his officeand asked her if she would like a drink, which she refused. Then, as customary,Massu stalled a few minutes before launching into his questions. He tidied the papers on his desk, walked to the window, and gazed out onto the Pont Neuf. He saw cyclists crossing the bridge, some of thetwo million bicycles in Paris, the new ones then selling for almost as much as an automobile had only five years before. Massu wondered if Marcel Petiot had also biked across the bridge, towing who knows what in his cart.
Massu turned back to face the suspect’s wife. “Well, Madame Petiot, what do you know? No need to rush, we have a lot of time. Begin where you would like.”
“I must say that I was unaware of
Similar Books
