56 Murder Most Foul How Passion Inspired Pauline To MurderShe was a “wild,
creature...” A
Love and Death Classic
of the 1950s is recalled by
HENRY JORD
Left: Felix Bailly. Above, René Floriot, attorney
for the Bailly family, addresses the Paris juryW
HEN THE slim, dark-haired,
dark-eyed girl walked into the
Paris back-street tavern, only
the cat that sprawled by the cash register
looked up. Two drunks slouching
against the bar were pursuing their own
wine-propelled dreams, and the tavern
owner never paid any attention to a
customer until he had to.
When the proprietor finally shuffled
over to the girl’s table, she was breathing
on the frosted window, clearing a spot
so she could look out.
“What is it you want, mademoiselle?’’
he asked.
“Black coffee,’’ she replied. “My
last one.’’ When she saw the puzzled
expression in his face, she added, “It’s
that kind of day.’’
He was in no mood to solve puzzles.
This girl was probably crazy. She had
to be to come to a dump like this. While
he was drawing some brackish liquid
from a tarnished coffee urn, the girl
took a gun from her handbag and slid
it into her coat pocket. She released the
safety-catch as the proprietor brought
her the cup of coffee.
The proprietor had his moment in the
limelight later that day, Saturday, March
17th, 1951, when he told police about
the girl and how she had kept fondling a
pistol in her right coat pocket.
But whatever her hands were doing,
her eyes were intent on the street, and
whenever the window frosted over she
blew on it. It was a dull, grey street, the
kind tours avoid like the plague. Besides,
it was early, 9.15 a.m., and except for anoccasional car or bundled-up pedestrian
hurrying past, there was little life on the
street.
Across from the bar was a high iron
lattice gate, giving access to a secluded
courtyard and apartment building. The
girl’s eyes were fixed on the gate as
though waiting for someone.
She didn’t have to wait long. At 9.45
a tall young man strode along the street.
She watched him swing the gate open,