Broke and desperate
Taki
Gstaad
The murder of Edouard Stern, widely reported in the European press but less so in Britain — after all, what’s the loss of a ruthless banker or two? — has dominated the ‘on dit’ among the swells sweltering in this here smart section of the Alps. Yes, I am aware that one should not speak badly of those no longer with us but, in this particular case, exceptions can be made.
Stern was not only ruthless and a terrible bully, he was as close to being a monster as anyone can be and still be free to walk around in polite society. Mind you, no longer. The lady who put four bullets in him was not a friend of mine, but I knew her. Cecile B., as the Swiss media refer to her, is a 36-year-old blonde, not bad looking if one likes that sort of looks. Stern obviously did. She was a dominatrix who specialised in rough sex. She was also an art lover, and painted and sculpted in between rough sex sessions, which made her quite unique — at least in my book.
Stern was the son-in-law of Michel David-Weill, the patrician head of Lazard Freres, and as nice a man as one can run into in the cutthroat world of high finance. Beatrice Stern, the ex-wife, is an attractive young woman and a friend. Like others of her ilk, she has never spoken ill of her ex, nor has she ever acknowledged the double life her ex-husband led. Having screwed a lot of people, Stern had a lot of enemies, and lately had been dealing with the Russians. So I put two and two together and got five. The Russian mafia had dealt with him the only way they know how. Well, not for the first time, I was dead wrong.
Actually, even after Cecile admitted to the crime, I was sure that she was covering up for someone. Stern had many girlfriends, but he was also homosexual. It was widely known that he was a rough-trade connoisseur, plus he had kept an undercover boyfriend for years. I figured that he had advertised for rough male sex, and the Russian mafia had sent a good-looking torpedo his way. Much too complicated, my dear Watson. Cecile was caught because she had a key to his Geneva pad, and was filmed by the security cameras as being the last to leave his place after the murder. After two days of interrogation, she spilled the beans.
And now for the nitty-gritty. Why did Cecile kill him? Her lawyers insist it’s a ‘crime passionel’, but the poor little Greek boy doesn’t agree. Cecile B. was a very tortured soul, quite mad, but not all bad. She served Stern’s sexual whims for years, and he gave her a gift of a million Swiss francs. Not bad, but not that great either. She had been doing his bidding for a long time, had been discreet, and after she left him and went back to her boyfriend he blocked the funds and went after her the way very rich and powerful men go after that kind of woman.
In a Hollywood film she would get off, but Geneva ain’t Hollywood. The way I see it, she was broke and desperate. Money, after all, is the last ‘atout’ of a fading woman, and she sure was fading while he was trying to take away her last atout. Never very stable, she went to see him and begged him to reconsider. She had a latex suit and a large dildo delivered to her from Australia days before the murder. Stern was found wearing both. I imagine that after sex he still refused to unblock her moolah, and, in the great tradition of Roxy from Chicago fame, she put four bullets in him. End of Stern and end of chalet-prices conversation in Gstaad and its environs.
Mind you, in a perfect world, Cecile B. would be seen as a victim of a ruthless and manipulating bully and would get off. But in a perfect world, people simply do not go around murdering bullies because there are no bullies. I hope Cecile B. does not get the book thrown at her. She has had a horrible life, and, although I do not subscribe to the victim culture, if anyone was a victim, she’s it. One thing is for sure. The conspiracy theorists will have a field day.
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