Dog Will Have His Day (19 page)

It was on the late side for lunch, and the back room would only be opened up if the mayor decided to come, but he had not yet left his office. Everyone now knew that the police were up there talking to him, and that Marie Lacasta had been murdered. The mayor’s secretary had spread the word. And everyone also knew that it was the big tall guy over there, the one with the limp, who had brought the case from Paris, though no one knew exactly how. People were hanging about in the cafe, waiting for the mayor, going up to the counter at intervals to take a look at the two men from Paris. And while they waited, they drank and played billiards. For the occasion, the proprietress of the cafe, the tiny grey-haired woman dressed in black, had taken the covers – placed there in winter – off the second table, which was set up for pool, American-style. Be careful, the baize is new, she’d said.

‘Look, the third table along by the window, see?’ said Louis. ‘No, don’t turn round, look in the mirror over the bar. The fat little man with bushy eyebrows, see him? Well, that’s Pauline’s husband. What do you think of him?’

‘Is this the same question as just now? To go to bed with?’

‘No, you imbecile. But what do you think of him?’

‘To be avoided if necessary.’

‘That’s what’s so clever. Darnas is a man of superior intelligence, but you wouldn’t know that from the way he looks.’

‘And the woman with him? Is that the one you wanted to go and say hello to?’

‘His wife, yes.’

‘I see. Right, I agree, I’d certainly like to sleep with her.’

‘Nobody asked your opinion.’

‘You said one should always ask oneself that question. I’m following instructions.’

‘I’ll tell you when to follow them. And anyway, shit, Vandoosler, don’t start getting up my nose, we’ve plenty to get on with.’

‘Who else do you know here?’ asked Marc, examining the smoke-filled room from the reflection in the bar mirror.

‘No one. According to the electoral register, there are 315 voters in Port-Nicolas. That’s not many, but as suspects in a murder case, it’s a lot.’

‘The victim died on Thursday after four o’clock and before six. That’s a very small window, and the cops shouldn’t find it too hard to establish alibis.’

‘It may be a small window, but this is a big open space. Nobody goes wandering around Vauban Cove in November in the rain for fun. Between there and the centre of the village there are just quiet roads and empty houses. A wet, deserted landscape. That Thursday, the weather was dreadful. And on top of that, between five and six, half the local people are coming back from Quimper if they’re in work, and driving home from work has never been much use as an alibi. Some of the others will have been out fishing, and there’s nothing so vague as a fisherman or as mobile as a boat. If they manage to rule out forty people, they’ll be lucky. Only 275 left. Take out the old people and it’s maybe 230.’

‘So better to start with Marie then.’

‘The Sevrans weren’t the only people in Marie’s life. There’s her husband Diego, and I haven’t managed to find out if he died, or just went away. There was her little allotment in Darnas’s grounds, which brings in the Darnas couple and the staff at his seawater centre, fourteen in the off season. There’s her job searching René Blanchet’s dustbins, her regular visits to the mayor, and everything we don’t know yet. Marie had links with a lot of people – that’s the trouble if someone is nosy by nature. The owner here, the little woman they call Antoinette, says that Marie would come in here for a sit-down twice a day – except when she didn’t.’

‘And what did she drink? Did you ask that? You should always ask that.’

‘Hot toddies in winter, cider in summer and a little white wine any time of year. Marie used to go for walks either by Vauban Cove, where nobody else dared compete with her over her precious winkles, or down by the harbour where there’s always something going on. People arriving, people leaving, discussions about whether the weather’s going to turn nasty, men repairing tackle on the quayside, others sorting out their lobster pots. Have you seen the harbour?’

‘Is there really much fishing here?’

‘If you’d kept your eyes open, you’d have seen two big trawlers anchored in the distance. They go as far afield as Ireland. Most of the men in here are connected to the harbour, the ones who aren’t here work in offices in town. See that guy coming in? No, for God’s sake, stop turning round every time I want to show you someone!’

‘That’s how I am, a creature of instinct, I have reactions.’

‘Well, learn how to react without batting an eyelid. Right, he’s the handyman who cleans the church, that’s all he does. I saw him the other day up by the
calvaire
, a sort of sidekick to the parish priest. What do you think of him?’

Marc bent down a little to look in the bar mirror.

‘Well, I wouldn’t want to sleep with him either.’

‘Shut up, Darnas is coming over.’

Darnas sat down alongside Louis and shook hands with Marc.

‘Vandoosler,’ Marc said.

‘Well, well, now,’ said Darnas in his high-pitched voice, ‘what are the police up to?’

Marc wouldn’t have thought that such a high-pitched sound could have come from that bull neck.

‘Still closeted with the mayor,’ said Louis. ‘It’s going to be tough establishing alibis. Have you got one yourself?’

‘I thought about what I did on Thursday afternoon. The beginning’s fine, I was two hours at the garage, taking delivery of a BMW.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘My pleasure. I test-drove it for a bit, but the weather was terrible. So I parked it and worked in my office, alone. Pauline came to fetch me at dinner time.’

‘No good at all,’ said Louis.

‘Correct.’

‘And Pauline?’

‘Just as bad. She worked at the newspaper in the morning, got back from Quimper about three, went for a run.’

‘In the pouring rain?’

‘Pauline runs all the time.’

‘So, it’s going to be tough,’ Louis said again. ‘All these people sitting behind us, who are they?’

Darnas glanced quickly round the room and turned back to Louis.

‘In the corner, on the left, Antoine, Guillaume and their father Loïc, they’re all fishermen, and Bernard, he’s the man from the garage, very reliable. Next to them, the very young man, Gaël, is an inveterate dreamer, and opposite him a man about forty, looks a bit fragile, that’s Jean, he looks after the church, he cleans it out, he oils the locks, he fixes the stonework, he’s a bit, you know, and totally devoted to the priest. Then Pauline Darnas, my wife, whom you have the honour of knowing, I won’t introduce you, let’s keep things separate. Table behind her, Lefloch, the toughest fisherman round here, goes out in all weathers, owns the trawler
Belle de Nuit
, and opposite him his wife and the future lover of his wife, Lefloch doesn’t know that yet. With them, the skipper of the other trawler, the
Atalante
. Right-hand corner, that’s the manageress of the supermarket, with her daughter Nathalie, currently being courted by Guillaume from the left corner, and Pierre-Yves who is also keen on Nathalie, but she’s not interested. Standing in the corner . . . Now look out, Kehlweiler, there he is, the Port-Nicolas fundamentalist, the candidate for the town hall.’

‘René Blanchet,’ Louis whispered to Marc, ‘the man with the dustbin, and
don’t
turn round.’

Louis was staring at the mirror, over his glass, and Marc did the same, as they watched a burly grey-haired man come in and make a lot of commotion taking off his waterproofs and stamping his boots. Outside, the weather wasn’t improving, the west wind was bringing in squall after squall. Louis followed Blanchet’s movements as he shook hands with men, kissed women, nodded to Pauline, and came to lean against the counter. Louis moved Marc aside to see better. The Sevrans also came into the cafe at that moment, and sat down. Marc decided to go and sit with them, since Louis kept shoving him, which was annoying. Now there was an open space between Louis and René Blanchet. Louis noted the red face, the brown eyes, the bulbous nose, the cracked lips, just then clamped round an unlit cigar, the small ears with finely tapering lobes, the nape of the neck in a straight line with the head, and a rather deeply lined face. Antoinette served Blanchet a drink. Loïc, the older fisherman, had come to join him.

‘Have you heard?’ Loïc was saying. ‘Seems someone did Marie in, wasn’t no accident.’

‘So I gather,’ said Blanchet. ‘Poor old dear.’

‘The cops are here – see them? It’s Guerrec looking into it.’

‘Guerrec, he’ll have everyone under lock and key before you can turn round.’

‘I’ll be the only one out fishing then. Mayor’s been with them three hours up there at the offices.’

‘At least when he’s doing his job, he’s not asleep.’

‘Do you believe it, though? That someone pushed her? Looks like it’s true.’

‘I believe what I see, Loïc, and I think what I think.’

Darnas raised his eyebrows to Kehlweiler, with a sigh. But Kehlweiler was on edge. He was gripping his glass and glancing frequently to his right. From the table where he was sitting with the Sevrans, alongside Lina, Marc watched him. Louis stood motionless, his body quite rigid except for those brief movements of the head.

‘Looks like it, sure enough,’ Loïc said again.

‘Depends who tells you,’ said Blanchet. ‘It seems that it was you, monsieur?’

Blanchet had turned to look at Louis.

‘Yes, I came down specially,’ said Louis in a polite tone.

‘To tell us what exactly?’

‘What you were just told. That Marie Lacasta was murdered.’

‘And on what basis are you making this accusation?’

‘Just my simple citizen’s duty. A certain dog was good enough to deposit the truth at my feet. I used it and I’ve shared it.’

‘The people round here are law-abiding folk,’ Blanchet went on in a loud voice. ‘You’re bringing unwanted trouble to Port-Nicolas. Accusing us of killing that old woman, and the mayor hasn’t denied it. But I will. The people of Port-Nicolas are not murderers. But in spite of that and thanks to you, they’ll all come under completely unjustifiable suspicion.’

Various voices rose, and a murmur of approval followed Blanchet’s words. Darnas pulled a face. Those who were not yet on Blanchet’s side might change their minds. Blanchet had seized the opportunity and was exploiting it quickly.

‘Want my opinion?’ Blanchet went on. ‘This business about Marie is some kind of a trick, the mayor’s in on it, and I’ll get to the bottom of it. You’ll have me to deal with, to defend these honest people, monsieur . . . Sorry I didn’t catch your name, it sounded hard to pronounce.’

‘Look out,’ Sevran said quietly to Marc. ‘Blanchet’s looking for trouble. Kehlweiler may have to watch himself, he’s not from round here, he won’t have many people on his side. They
are
all good law-abiding people, except when they’re not.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Marc whispered. ‘Louis is armed.’

‘Armed?’

‘With his tongue.’

‘Blanchet can talk too,’ murmured Sevran, shaking his head. ‘He’s the local loudmouth. Terrible man, always coming out with this stuff, and he’s got plenty of dramatic tricks up his sleeve. He’s cleverer than he looks.’

Louis had also turned slightly towards Blanchet, and Marc noted with satisfaction that he was easily the taller. He had drawn himself to his full height, so that, alongside him, Blanchet looked squat. An advantage without real merit, but an advantage all the same. Louis was staring at the other man, and his profile, at that moment severe and vaguely scornful, was not at all attractive.

A buzz arose in the room. Some people stood up, others came out of the games room, craning to see what was going on at the counter.

‘Not everyone has a simple name, Monsieur Blanchet,’ said Louis slowly, and Marc detected a whole gamut of dangerous politeness in his tone. ‘But I’m sure that with a little effort, intelligent as you seem to be, you will manage to pronounce it. It only has three syllables.’

‘Kehlweiler,’ Blanchet said, exaggerating his lip movements.

‘My compliments, you are gifted for foreign languages.’

‘In France we were given a lot of practice, and some people remember, even after fifty years.’

‘So I see that you took the opportunity to get an education.’

Blanchet gritted his teeth, hesitated and drank some of his white wine.

‘Will you be staying long with us?’ he asked. ‘Or have you done enough damage to these people who didn’t ask you for anything?’

‘Since you suggest it, it’s possible I might stay around. Indeed, I feel I may not yet have done enough for Marie Lacasta, who didn’t ask for anything either, and who was battered to death with a rock. To be honest, you provide plenty of distraction and it’s very pleasant in this cafe. It would be amusing to get to know you better. Madame Antoinette, could you give me another beer please?’

Louis had remained outwardly calm, but René Blanchet was making no effort to keep his composure, indeed the opposite.

‘He’s going to pounce,’ said Sevran. ‘That’s how he works.’

Antoinette put a beer on the counter, and Blanchet grabbed Louis’s lapels, making a sign towards the skipper of the
Atalante
. But the trawlerman hesitated.

‘Monsieur Blanchet,’ said Louis, detaching the fingers which were holding his jacket, ‘some manners, please. We hardly know each other. I’m willing to come and see you, of course. The big white house after the town hall, isn’t it? A bit further down on the right.’

‘I’ll be the one who chooses my guests, Monsieur Kehlweiler. My door is not open to you.’

‘A door – what’s that? Just a symbol really. But as you like, at your place or somewhere else, but now, may I ask that you let me drink my beer in peace, you’re warming it up.’

Marc smiled and at last, apart from some indifferent faces, the audience had stopped taking sides and were enjoying the show.

‘That’s right,’ Antoinette intervened suddenly, since she was very sensitive to any slight on the service at the Market Cafe. ‘Don’t warm the gentleman’s beer. Give it a rest, René. And for the love of God, what are you complaining about? If Marie really was murdered, then this gentleman better do whatever he’s got to do, nothing wrong with that. If there’s some monster in Port-Nicolas, best we find out. People here are no better than anywhere else. You’re getting on our tits.’