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It was Cort Nielsen's second stage win at cycling's biggest race after his maiden success in the medieval city of Carcassonne four years ago. The Danish rider pipped Nick Schultz to the line by a few inches at the end of the long and exhausting climb to the Megeve ski resort after Luis Leon Sanchez, who ended third, launched the sprint. Race leader Tadej Pogacar rode among a group of general contenders that crossed less than nine minutes behind and kept the yellow jersey. The stage was briefly neutralized with 35 kilometers left after a small group of activists protesting climate change sat on the road and lit flares, forcing riders to stop for 12 minutes. Skip to main content Skip to navigation. Cort Nielsen sprints to TDF stage win by inches. De Rozario nets marathon silver, reveals father's death. Olympian suspended for trying to buy cocaine. Australia finishes ninth on Paralympic medal table. Aussies welcomed as heroes after best Games. Olympic flag arrives in L. Golden glory: Australia's historic medal haul in Paris. Aussies Richardson, Glaetzer medal in keirin final. Boxer files legal complaint over gender abuse. More gold glory as Parker wins para-cycling road race. Alexa Leary powers to Paralympic gold, WR. Turner conquers glandular fever to get m gold. Double silvers in boccia as Steelers net gritty bronze. Triathlon gold completes Parker's redemption. Beaten by 0. Clifford 'shattered' over DQ, de Rozario gets bronze. Cycling dominance keeps Australia high on medal table. Paralympics open to cap Paris' summer of sport. The shark attack survivor going for glory at Paralympics. Paris was undoubtedly Australia's greatest Olympic Games. Paris hands the Olympics over to LA. Opals celebrate momentous victory in the face of adversity. Smith's return crucial to delivering bronze to the Opals. Team USA wins 5th straight men's basketball gold. Paris' big risk: Was using the River Seine as a venue worth it? Historic and record-breaking: Australia amazes the world in five magical hours. Way-too-early Australian Boomers team for LA Boomers takeaways: Time for next-gen transition? Best coaching candidates. Trew beauty! T claims, records, and flops; Australia's Olympic swim meet had it all. High jumpers Olyslagers, Patterson share in year Aussie first. Opals Takeaways: Improvements made ahead of quarterfinal clash. How Aussie Nina Kennedy learned the art of pole vault -- and why she's a big medal hope. Aussie evening of history, redemption, and gold puts USA on notice. Boomers group stage takeaways: Positives, big question marks, and those turnovers. Ariarne Titmus' statement swim anchors Australia to relay glory. Brondello calls on Tolo and George to take the Opals home. Veterans breathe much-needed life into Opals campaign. Beaten but not defeated, Kyle Chalmers dazzles in m freestyle final As it happened: Day 5 brings more medals for Australia in Paris. Gustavsson exits Matildas after Olympic KO. Boomers takeaways: Giddey's value, does Australia have a go-to line-up? Don't forget about me! Kaylee McKeown sees Olympic gold again. The most important 29 seconds of Noah Lyles' life. Murray's lasting image is of man who refuses to quit. Can Erriyon Knighton be the fastest sprinter in the world again? From watching to winning: O'Callaghan tops Titmus in classic m final. Opals Takeaways: Horrific stat line underpins boilover. Lauren Jackson's greatness was evident from the outset. Heartbreak to ecstasy; Fox finally wins elusive Olympic K1 gold. Kumagai plays captain's role to perfection as Japan pull off miracle to beat Brazil. Canada's Olympic spying scandal: Everything you need to know. Buggered, relieved, untouchable: Ariarne Titmus' legacy grows with gold in m. Associated Press. Email Print.

PLUS: SKIING; World Cup Races Are Rescheduled

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Maurice Lacour, and her conniving brother, Jean Lacaze, would be accused by her adopted son, Jean-Pierre, of plotting to murder him. There were also overtones of political skulduggery. Lacour was a right-wing fanatic with a militant past, and some of his co-conspirators shared his extremist views. When the scandal broke, he spent several months in jail, whereas Lacaze was out in a matter of days. The mastermind, Domenica, proved unsinkable. Her rat-like ruthlessness, her affairs with men in high places one of them a prime minister , and, above all, her possession of a fortune in modern masterpieces meant that she was never even charged. At the time of the affaire —which made headlines, day after day, for the first few months of —I was living in France, and on one occasion met this aging bimbo. A great role for Joan Crawford, I remember thinking—one part steel, one part asbestos, one part nylon. After that I started checking out the press cuttings. Quelle histoire! Before scrutinizing Domenica, let us take a look at her first husband, who was no less self-invented than she was. By the time he was 17, in , this baby-faced entrepreneur had left home and carved out a unique niche for himself in Paris. Although he aspired to write and paint, and even schooled himself to do a bit of both, Guillaume was in too much of a hurry to take the time and trouble that those vocations necessitate. It was a revelation. After devoting all his spare time to studying similar artifacts in museums, Guillaume set about importing examples from African traders. Guillaume had a knack for being in the right place at the right time. Since these artists liked to use their work as currency, Guillaume found himself with enough Picassos, Braques, Derains, Matisses, and Vlamincks to open a small gallery. He would soon prove to have an almost infallible eye for the new young painters and, no less important, the new young poets, who would ferret them out for him. Meanwhile, Max Jacob had put him onto the proprietress of a Montmartre cabaret, La Belle Gabrielle, who for years had fed Maurice Utrillo in exchange for art. Jacob also introduced the dealer to another undiscovered Italian, Amedeo Modigliani. To flatter the sitter, Modigliani inscribed the best of the portraits of him with the words Novo Pilota New Pilot —an identity that this driven young dealer was desperately eager to project. He would write most of the puff pieces himself, under fanciful pseudonyms—Dr. By the age of 25 he had promoted himself into a celebrity. And then, in , Guillaume decided to marry. He chose an utterly unscrupulous, dynamically sexy young beauty from a dim, glove-making town in southwestern France. Like Guillaume, Juliette Lacaze was deeply ashamed of her background. She would later destroy all documentary and photographic evidence of her early years. She is thought to have started off selling gloves in a department store, and also to have done a stint as a hatcheck girl in a nightclub, but in view of her striking looks and her aversion to petit bourgeois life, she is likely to have been dependent on the favors of generous admirers. One of these men must have taken her to Nice, for it was there, one Sunday in , that Paul Guillaume picked her up. They proved to be a perfect match. After their marriage, Guillaume would memorialize their encounter in Nice by changing her name to Domenica, which suited this dominatrix extremely well. Like her husband, Domenica spent the next few years styling and re-styling herself—her look, her accent, her persona. In the first portrait—started in the year of her marriage and finished in —Domenica still has a trace of the anxiety and awkwardness of a small-town girl who has come up the hard way. In the second, much flashier one, of her in a huge, halo-like straw hat, finished in , she is all artifice. Since Derain was having an affair with her, he was able to catch to perfection her cold, calculating gaze and overgroomed, actressy look. The painting—so overtly flattering, so subliminally mean—is a lie that tells the truth. Underneath the mask, Domenica was miserly and manipulative—loathed by the servants she overworked and underpaid, loathed by the hairdressers and manicurists she never tipped, loathed by the women whose husbands she tried to seduce. Women complained that she was vulgar; men said that was what made her so peppy. Guillaume did not seem to mind as long as she kept his clients happy. Albert Barnes of Philadelphia, would prove to be a huge advantage to her husband. Tired of missing out on sale after sale, Guillaume took to sticking his contemporary paintings into 17th- and 18th-century frames. On a tip from Apollinaire, Guillaume had snapped these up for next to nothing, and after framing them as lavishly as he would a Manet, he sold them for times their cost. Guillaume was likewise at pains to have his tribal sculptures beautifully mounted by a Japanese craftsman. Serious collectors denounced these tricks as packaging. His gallery catered increasingly to the modish nouveaux riches with whom he and Domenica had come to identify. The auctioneer would stop auctioning, his hammer in the air. A major exhibition of works from the collection at a Paris gallery in revealed what great treasures he had accumulated, but in typical fashion he overplayed his hand. In , Guillaume opened a London branch; he also appointed Mrs. Averell Harriman, who had recently opened a New York gallery, to be his U. But due to the Great Depression, neither of these outlets prospered, and the Guillaumes had to cut back on their lifestyle. He began to look more and more puffy and depressed. Both he and his wife were having affairs: he reportedly with Jeanne Castel, an art dealer with whom he had long been associated; she with Jean Walter, a powerful businessman and architect, who had designed the building overlooking the Bois de Boulogne where he and the Guillaumes lived. As he grew sadder and sicker, he seems to have realized that he had sold out, and in conversation he would hark back to the great days of his youthful discoveries. And then all of a sudden, on October 1, , Paul Guillaume died at the age of 42, perhaps of a burst appendix. Domenica had allegedly had her tubes tied before the marriage. Unless you bear me a child, I will leave my collection to a foundation. Why else would Domenica have been so terrified of losing the collection that she shoved a cushion under her dress and announced that she was pregnant? In due course she managed to procure a newborn infant—said to be a foundling of unknown parentage—at the cost of 5, francs on the baby market. However, there were also persistent rumors that, before he died, Guillaume had arranged for a mistress to have his baby, so it may well have been fathered by him. The child was christened Jean-Pierre and nicknamed Polo. A will eventually materialized, leaving Domenica everything. Meanwhile, Domenica continued to carry on her very public affair with Jean Walter, who had fallen besottedly in love with her. Besides three children, Walter had an exemplary wife, who refused to give him a divorce. Apart from this adulterous lapse, he was famously ethical—so unlike Domenica in this respect that friends were amazed at his tolerance of her. As long as Walter was unable to marry her, she insisted on her right to have other lovers. In , in settlement of a bad debt of 75, francs, he had accepted the mining rights to a tract of land in eastern Morocco. In the course of inspecting this barren terrain, Walter, who knew a bit about geology, noticed that the rocks were speckled with galena. This indicated the presence of lead and zinc. Back in Paris, he raised a million francs, and with the help of his son, Jacques, started mining on a small scale. Within a year the price of lead had fallen so low that they had to shut down their operation, but in the threat of war sent the price soaring again, and the Walters reopened what had come to be called the Zellidja Mining Corporation. They soon discovered they were sitting on the richest deposit of lead in North Africa. During the war the German occupiers pressured Walter to turn the mines over to them. Passionately anti-German like most Alsatians, he refused, and the Gestapo threw him in jail and threatened to kill him. Walter is unlikely to have countenanced such a quid pro quo. However, it does seem that she used her connections to arrange preferential treatment for him. While in jail, Walter managed to write a treatise on hospital architecture and conceive plans for the village of Bou Beker, which he would later build to house his 10, Moroccan employees. Walter was not freed until the Liberation. Trust Domenica to make the young officer designated to release her husband wait while she dressed up to the nines for the jeep trip to the jail. As long as he lived at home, Jean-Pierre had to sleep on a mattress under the dining-room table. If she was giving a dinner, he would sleep in her bathtub. Hell for the boy; hell, too, for Domenica, who was maniacally finicky about domestic details. Every piece of furniture had a sticker indicating exactly where it should be placed; the same with objects. Domenica could not very well fire Jean-Pierre, but she could most certainly torture him for being a misfit in her overmanicured, over-regimented household, where the brooms were numbered and labeled and the maids had to wear overshoes so as not to mess the floors. She also became ever more morbidly stingy with the boy. The chauffeur remembered supplying him with the pocket money she failed to provide, and if he needed a pair of shoes, she would give him one shoe and make him wait for the other. His clothes were hand-me-downs from his Walter cousins. As Jean-Pierre grew up, Domenica found new ways to humiliate him. She made him wear overalls to protect his one suit, and when he got to be as tall as she, she made him wear an old camel-hair overcoat of hers, which buttoned up the wrong way for a man. She attacked him for disgracing her house. He worked briefly in a Paris night-club, in a pharmaceutical factory, and as a film extra. In he enlisted in the army as a parachutist and was soon commissioned. Jean Walter saw him off to war in Algiers and made him promise that he would come back and live at home after his military service. His thoughtful mother reportedly asked her friend General Massu, who was in command of the troops in Algiers, to expose Jean-Pierre to active combat and make a man of him. Since she sent him no money, he was reduced to bouncing checks and stealing 80, francs from the regimental mess—transgressions which would later be used to justify the conspiracy she mounted against him. After promising his collection of tribal art to the Louvre, she auctioned it off. No less regrettable is the absence from the collection of de Chirico, whom Guillaume had helped discover. As it stands today, the collection commemorates Guillaume as a man of discernment but hardly as the avant-garde pioneer he prided himself on being. However, the second-rate Impressionists, among them a dubious Renoir, which she acquired around the same time, raise questions about her discrimination. As for the schlock realist Bernard Lorjou, whom Domenica tried her best to promote, his work did her walls as much credit as a Leroy Neiman might today. Although she had supposedly put a stop to her extracurricular affairs, Domenica embarked, in , on a romance with a mysterious doctor in his 40s named Maurice Lacour—as cold-blooded and self-seeking a creature as herself. Lacour came from a notoriously reactionary family. He and his father had both been members of a sinister, extreme-right-wing group known as the Cagoules, and he continued to meddle in Fascist intrigues. His medical credentials were equally disturbing. And, sure enough, the drugs he prescribed for Domenica alleviated the pain of rheumatoid arthritis, which would eventually cripple her. Domenica also became very friendly with a tantalizingly rich philanthropist named Margaret Biddle. Biddle, who had been born around , was the only daughter of Colonel William Thompson, a mining promoter of genius from Alder Gulch, Montana. After his death in , she inherited a major slice of the Newmont Mining Corporation, one of the largest producers of lead and zinc in the United States. Unlike most of her ilk, she was a nice enough woman and no fool. She had two children by her first husband, Theodore Schulze, and none by her second, Anthony Drexel Biddle, a former U. Domenica seldom let Biddle out of her sight. The two women talked of launching a Paris newspaper together. They patronized the same couturiers as well as the antiques dealers and decorators who were advising Biddle on the Vermeil Room—an antechamber given over to a stunning display of silver-gilt beakers and dishes—which she was presenting to the White House. They also went to the ballet and opera together. Biddle seemed in excellent health and spirits. It was all the more shocking, then, that after returning to her house on the Rue las Cases —escorted, possibly, by Lacour—she fell into a coma and died of a cerebral hemorrhage. Her office was ransacked and a dossier stolen, so foul play was suspected, but no action was taken. Three years later, when Dr. Nothing criminal emerged. Jean Walter prided himself on being a self-made man. His family were Mennonites, and he had inherited little from his father, a small-time builder, but puritanical principles and a passion for work. He had made his first fortune as an architect of hospitals, housing developments, and luxury apartment buildings, before becoming an even more successful mining magnate. Walter hoped that the children of his first marriage a son and two daughters would prove as much of a credit to him as he had proved to his exemplary father, and in return for generous settlements he asked them to cede their shares in the Zellidja corporation to his foundation. The daughters—one of them the wife of Philippe Lamour, a brilliant entrepreneur whom Walter had appointed to the Zellidja board—would do so and live to regret it. The son, Jacques, who had spent much of his life in Morocco directing the mine, was more obdurate. He retained his share. Domenica was devoid of philanthropic spirit, but she had nothing against these dispositions. She would later manipulate them to her advantage. On June 11, , she and Jean Walter, accompanied by Lacour, drove from their country house in Dordives to lunch at nearby Souppes-sur-Loing, where Walter planned to go fishing. After parking the car, he crossed the busy Route Nationale 7 to buy a newspaper and was blindsided by a car. The impact threw Walter into the air, and he came down heavily on his head, cracking his skull. He was still alive when Domenica and Lacour ran out of the restaurant. Lacour took charge. Weakened by a recent heart attack, Walter died while being attended by him in the ambulance. Inevitably, there was talk. The widow went fast-forward into action. Lacour, arrived at the Zellidja offices at a time when there was nobody around but a doorman. A few weeks later, Domenica came up with an unconvincing testamentary letter, supposedly written by Jean Walter, but probably written by her. Their handwriting was very similar, and she had often forged his signature on checks. The letter dismissed his trusted son, Jacques, and son-in-law Philippe Lamour from the board of the well-endowed foundation, in which Walter had taken so much pride, and appointed Lacour, whom he had loathed, in their place. The devious doctor turned out to have political aspirations. This project would promote his prospects in a forthcoming election and also, it was rumored, provide a cover for drug trafficking. Nothing came of it. He was co-heir to the Guillaume fortune and collection, and—who knew? He approached a friend by the name of Armand Magescas, who was the managing director of the right-wing magazine Jours de France , and explained to him that it was their patriotic duty to eliminate such an undesirable creature as Jean-Pierre. Magescas was most accommodating. Far from being the least bit shocked at the idea, it turned out that he, too, had a notoriously unsatisfactory son. He was delighted to meet Lacour. The doctor claimed to be acting on behalf of a very powerful family, whose disreputable young son was such a crook, such a disgrace to his parents, his country, and the army, that he did not deserve to live. If one can believe Rayon, which is not always possible, he was horrified at the notion of killing a young parachutist who had been fighting for his country in Algeria. However, instead of reporting the matter to the police, he had decided to string Lacour along while he worked out a way of exploiting the situation to his own advantage. He requested an advance of 3 million francs on a payment of 20 million francs, plus a further 20 million francs for a mortgage on his restaurant. Lacour made a counteroffer of a total of 30 million francs. The haggling continued. For as long as Jean-Pierre was serving in the army, the murder was to take place in Algiers. After his demobilization, the venue was switched to Paris, where the victim was staying with Jacques Walter while training to be an airline steward at Orly airport. Rayon came up with various scenarios. Drowning at sea—too complicated. They finally agreed in January that Rayon would tail Jean-Pierre as he drove back from a training session at Orly, and find a pretext for intercepting and killing him. As a precaution, Rayon had asked an old friend from his Resistance days, Alexandre Trucchi, to accompany him as a witness. Jean-Pierre finally agreed, on condition that Jacques Walter and Philippe Lamour approved of the scheme. They did. However, now that Rayon knew who was involved, he got greedy. Twenty-four hours later, Rayon met Lacour by arrangement outside the Figaro -newspaper building and informed him that he had had Jean-Pierre strangled and thrown into the Seine. Rayon was shivering so badly with fright that Lacour had to get him a tranquilizer from a drugstore. The gallant go-between seems finally to have realized that he had double-crossed some very dangerous people. I will run and get you your money. He promised to arrange the mortgage payments later in the year in installments of 10 million francs. Jacques Walter, who was kept informed of every move, let a few days pass before informing Domenica, via her brother, that Jean-Pierre had disappeared. Instead she took the more cautious step of notifying a highly placed friend in the Ministry of the Interior. Philippe Lamour took advantage of the ceremony to inform them Domenica was not present that Lacour had paid a hired gun 10 million francs to murder Jean-Pierre, and that the plot had gone wrong. Domenica was questioned separately at home. Both claimed that, far from being guilty of plotting a murder, they were being set up by Jean-Pierre and Rayon, who, they claimed, were crooks and blackmailers. A judge by the name of Batigne was put in charge of the case, and for the next eight months he presided over an exhaustive investigation. Apart from Jean-Pierre and the Walter family, most of the people involved turned out to be venal or untruthful or both. Moatti, who was acting for Rayon, did what he could to muddy the waters. But, like most of the people connected to the case, the lawyer had his own agenda, though what exactly it was—beyond earning a very fat fee and advancing his political career—is unclear. Although two other criminal investigators arrived at radically different conclusions, Judge Batigne finally dismissed the charges. However, that was by no means the end of the affair. After the failed assassination attempt, one might have assumed that Domenica and her henchmen would leave Jean-Pierre in peace. Not at all. In her determination to disinherit him and if possible revoke his adoption, Domenica had yet another go at destroying him. This time she left the dirty work to her slave brother, Jean Lacaze, instead of Lacour. As a result, detectives tapped the telephones of Domenica and Lacaze, who was promptly arrested and jailed. Lacaze was soon released from jail on grounds of ill health. Judge Batigne was brought back into the case to start yet another investigation. As more and more marginal characters became involved and new charges and countercharges were made, the plot did not just thicken; it coagulated. The climax came when Domenica and Lacour returned from Marrakech and told a lot of flagrant lies at a press conference at the Ritz. Once again they claimed that Jean-Pierre was the villain and that the whole matter was an elaborate hoax on his part to extort money from his mother. This time Judge Batigne believed the son and not the mother, and Lacour was sent to prison, where he remained for about six months. Thanks to powerful friends and lawyers, Domenica managed to stay out of jail. Why not kill these two birds with one stone—prevail upon the appropriate division of the Ministry of Justice to drop all the charges in exchange for a gift of the paintings to the Louvre? There was only one obstacle. De Gaulle and his wife, Yvonne, stood for a new morality, in which rich people were no longer above the law. In accord with Gaullist virtue, therefore, the collection had to be sold—not given—to France. And sold it was, for a fraction of its real value. Since the judge was denied the prospect of prosecuting the culprits, the whole truth will never be known. Otherwise the principals in the case got pretty much what they wanted. Details of the settlement were never divulged. All we know for certain is that the charges against Domenica and her brother were dropped. As for Lacour, after his release from jail he was soon kicked out by Domenica. He took up with a ravishing Guadeloupean actress, Judith Aucagne, who soon became his wife. At the celebrations for the independence of Algeria in , Lacour and his wife would be seated in the front row of the presidential box. As soon as the scandal died down, Jean-Pierre became a journalist and photographer and went to work for Paris Match. He settled down, married a Dutch girl, and had a daughter. And then, in , Jean-Pierre decided to make a new life for himself in America. He married an American woman, had two more children, and became a farmer. He also took up flying and bought himself a plane. He currently lives in a small town in North Carolina but contemplates retiring to France. For someone who had been so cruelly treated by an adoptive mother and had been the innocent victim of an enormous public scandal, Jean-Pierre remained singularly free of grudges. When, some years after the affaire, he was told that Domenica was lonely and wanted to see him, he paid her a visit. It turned out that all she really wanted from him was a repudiation of his adoption in exchange for cash. As for the Walter family, they sold the Zellidja mines to the King of Morocco for a surprisingly large sum, considering they had been virtually emptied of lead. Her chauffeur complained of having to drive her up to the Place Pigalle at night to buy cocaine and opium—balm for the pain which had reduced her fingers to shriveled claws. Domenica replaced Lacour with someone who was seemingly more respectable, Jean Bouret, a Communist art critic who wrote some not very distinguished books about Picasso and other artists associated with the Communist Party. A drooling wraith, he was occasionally glimpsed being pushed around in a wheelchair by a little old lady—pudgy and lame but quite stylish. Ironically, the only real winner in this very, very French story was France. Archive VF Shop Magazine. Save this story Save. Most Popular. By Hadley Hall Meares. The Best Movies of , So Far. By Richard Lawson. By Mark McKinnon. John Richardson. Works by Pissarro, Renoir, and Avercamp Vanished. For 43 years, police were stumped—until the dashing, enigmatic Clifford Schorer III went searching for clues online. By Adam Leith Gollner. Award Season. By David Canfield. By Eve Batey. By Erin Vanderhoof. The Ohio senator displayed the eloquence of a seasoned lawyer and the zeal of an annoying debate kid, while Tim Walz seemed less comfortable in the limelight. Then again, will either of their performances actually move the needle? By Eric Lutz. By Kase Wickman. By Brian Stelter. By Savannah Walsh. By Bess Levin. By Esther Zuckerman. Mothers were the main theme, with Tina Knowles, Maggie Baird, and more monumental moms being honored—along with reproductive freedom. By Fred Sahai. Ethel Skakel Kennedy Is Dead at The social activist and matriarch of the Robert F. Kennedy clan lived a life marked by strong familial bonds, political triumph, and personal tragedy. By Michael Shnayerson.

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