Chief Gigo had been feeling a bit annoyed lately.
Although the "Three-Body Love Murder Case" on An Tan Street was straightforward, its impact was extremely negative, especially since it occurred in an upscale apartment in the Opera district, a hub for the middle class. The ubiquitous reporters had made the entire Paris Police Department quite bothered.
Bishop Gibel and Cardinal Montelli, who had remained in Paris, repeatedly sensationalized the case in the newspapers, arguing that this tragedy was the result of the French Ministry of Interior, and particularly the Paris Police Department, allowing the decadent city and The Clamor to proliferate.
Statements like "lewd novels breed real-life tragedies," "The Clamor is a hotbed of evil," and "police dereliction of duty and indulgence" were thrown around, each accusation more severe than the last, causing Chief Gigo a throbbing headache.
Even newspapers in Germany, Italy, and Austria reported on the matter, making him genuinely feel the pressure.
What finally broke his holiday mood was a telegram from Minister of Interior Ernest Constans, urging him to resolve the issue as quickly as possible.
The Paris Police Department was not under the jurisdiction of the Paris City Hall but reported directly to the Ministry of Interior. Thus, Chief Gigo had to cut his vacation short and rush back to Paris by train from Vienna to deal with the police department's image crisis.
As for "solving the case"? That would have to wait until after the holidays, when the police department had enough staff.
But it wasn't until the first weekend after the holidays approached that the officers of the "Morality Department" responsible for such cases slowly trickled in.
Chief Gigo naturally threw a fit—even though his initial plan was also to stay in Vienna until around the same time.
"Look! Look at those newspapers outside! Look at the big shots from the Archbishopric and Rome! It's all because of your laziness! My face, the face of the Paris Police Department, has been thrown abroad!"
Chief Gigo roared at Inspector Lefèvre, who was as burly as a bear and had eyes still hazy from a hangover.
The latter stood with his hands hanging down, his belly almost touching the edge of the desk, and spoke in a muffled voice: "You know, it's the holidays... manpower is a bit tight. We have a lot of paperwork... that case on An Tan Street..."
Gigo's face flushed with anger: "Paperwork?! Lefèvre! Is your brain still stuck in some prostitute's belly button? This isn't about that wretched An Tan Street case anymore! It's The Clamor! It's the decadent city! It's that 'An Honest Parisian'!
Public opinion! International public opinion! Do you understand? What we need now is action! Strong action! To show all of Paris, all of Europe, our determination to combat evil!"
He took a deep breath, which ultimately transformed into a series of stern commands:
"Listen! I order you, immediately! Right now! Take your men and go seal off The Clamor newspaper office!"
"Confiscate all copies of the decadent city and that damned 'supplementary booklet'!"
"Arrest Gariel Maurel! Pry open his mouth and drag that 'An Honest Parisian' out for me!"
"This is a crucial battle to restore the reputation of our police department! If you mess it up, you can prepare to manage fishing boats down the Seine River!"
Only that last sentence made the flesh on Inspector Lefèvre's belly tremble almost imperceptibly.
Manage fishing boats? That wouldn't do! What was the difference between the lower Seine River and a cesspool, only a bunch of poor wretches scavenging for trash, from whom no profit could be squeezed.
Whether it was shutting down The Clamor, seizing the decadent city, or arresting Gariel, he was extremely reluctant to do any of it.
Because for every day The Clamor was published, he received 5 francs, and each of his brothers received 3 francs; as long as the decadent city was on a private bookseller's stall, it was his inexhaustible coin purse.
This was much cleaner and more hygienic compared to extorting money from prostitutes and madams.
As for Gariel... he didn't believe that slippery character was still in Paris waiting for death.
But an order was an order, so Lefèvre could only straighten his massive body and salute somewhat awkwardly: "Yes, Your Excellency! Mission accomplished, guaranteed! I am sworn enemies with evil!"
Stepping out of the Chief's office, Inspector Lefèvre's "resolute" expression instantly crumbled, replaced by a look of distress.
He slowly ambled back to his office; it was almost three in the afternoon, and only a few scattered officers were present.
Lefèvre roared, "Wake up! Get to work!"
Dupont didn't even lift his eyelids: "Boss, what's the rush? What time is it? The brothels aren't even open yet..."
Mathieu was startled awake, wiping drool blankly: "Huh? Boss? Going to... make an arrest? I... I haven't had lunch yet."
The others were also listless, not taking it seriously at all.
Lefèvre grumpily repeated the Chief's orders, and a chorus of groans immediately filled the office.
Dupont's nail file dropped to the floor: "Seal off The Clamor? Arrest Garibuer? God! He treated us to blood duck at 'Silver Tower' just before Easter! My goodness, that duck..."
Lefèvre waved his hand irritably: "Don't ever mention such things again! What's the point of complaining? The Chief is serious this time! Pack your things, prepare to leave!"
Mathieu looked troubled: "Leave? Now? Boss, it's almost three o'clock. It'll take over half an hour to get to Rue des Saints, and then sealing, arresting, inventorying... won't that take until dark? It's my wife's birthday today, and I promised to go home early..."
Dupont quickly chimed in: "Yes, yes, yes! I... I have a dentist appointment! It's been hurting for days!"
Lefèvre felt his temples throbbing. He took a deep breath and pulled out his trump card: "Anyone who doesn't go won't be allowed on 'field duty' next month!"
Each time the "Morality Department" went on "field duty," ordinary officers received at least 30 francs, which was a significant source of income. So, the threat of money temporarily overcame personal difficulties.
Half an hour later, a special morality enforcement team, led personally by Inspector Lefèvre, finally trudged out of the police department.
But an hour later, Lefèvre, with his belly protruding, stopped Chief Gigo in his office, just as he was about to leave for the day.
Chief Gigo was surprised: "You've completed the mission?"
Lefèvre slowly said: "Confiscating the decadent city and that 'supplementary booklet' will take time, rest assured, we will make this book disappear from the market.
But The Clamor has already been sealed off, though it was largely an empty building—only one person named 'Pierre' remained, likely Gariel's valet. And a typesetter who knew nothing.
According to 'Pierre', Gariel Maurel disappeared 10 days ago, and he doesn't know where he is."
Chief Gigo secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but his expression remained grim: "What about 'An Honest Parisian'? That Pierre knows a lot about Gariel..."
Lefèvre pulled an envelope from his pocket and placed it on Chief Gigo's desk: "He said he was only responsible for Gariel's odd jobs and knew nothing about publishing.
But Gariel left him this letter before he left, asking him to give it to you, saying you would definitely be interested in it."
Chief Gigo picked up the envelope, checked it, and finding the seal intact, waved Lefèvre away.
Only after the office door was closed did he tear open the envelope and pull out the letter.
On the paper was only one sentence:
["Find Lionel Sorel, and you will find 'An Honest Parisian'."]