Dog Will Have His Day (24 page)

Mathias called softly to him from the top of the path. Marc climbed back up the seven metres of rocky slope, hauled himself over the edge and immediately wiped his hand on the wet grass.

‘It must be Gaël,’ he whispered. ‘He seems to be alive so far. You stay here, I’ll run for help.’

It was only then that he saw that Mathias was holding on to someone in the dark.

‘Do you know who this woman is?’ Mathias simply asked.

No need for the lighter. Mathias was holding Lina Sevran in an armlock.

‘The engineer’s wife,’ said Marc in a sinking voice. ‘Where was she?’

‘Not far away, hiding in the trees. I heard her panting. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her.’

Lina Sevran was neither moving, crying, nor speaking. She was trembling all over, as she had been at midday when she shot the dog.

‘But hurry,’ said Mathias.

Marc ran for his bike, jumped on and pedalled quickly towards the village.

He burst into Kehlweiler’s bedroom, without knocking. Louis was not asleep, and looked up from a mass of papers spread out on his table, old documents from the yellow folder, covered with notes and drawings. Marc, as he drew breath, thought he looked the way he had earlier, like a Goth from the Danube basin, ready to do battle with the Huns. For a second, there flashed into his head a mosaic in Constantinople, of the fine head of a barbarian, dark locks falling over a pale forehead.

‘Where’ve you been?’ said Louis, getting up. ‘In a fight?’

Marc looked down at himself. His clothes were muddied and wet from the rocks and there was still blood on his hand.

‘Hurry!’ he said. ‘Phone for help. It’s that young Gaël, he’s at the bottom of the cliffs, he’s bleeding. Just after the wooden cross. Mathias is there.’

Five minutes later, Marc was on his way back, dragging Louis along with him as fast as he could.

‘Mathias heard something,’ Marc said.

‘Don’t walk so fast and don’t talk so fast.
You
didn’t hear anything?’

‘I’m not from primeval times,’ said Marc, speaking more loudly. ‘I’m a normal, civilised, educated person. I can’t see in the dark, I can’t hear anyone blink, I can’t smell the micro-pheromones of sweat at twenty metres. But Mathias can still hear the aurochs thundering past the caves at Lascaux, so you can imagine. If he was in the Sahara, he’d be able to hear the Paris–Strasbourg train, it’s very practical.’

‘Calm down, for Christ’s sake! So Mathias has good hearing, but what happened?’

‘What happened? Well, he dashed off and we found Gaël, at least I think it’s him, he’d gone over the edge, further along, and while I went down to take a look at him, Mathias went charging after his prey.’

Louis stopped short on the path.

‘Yes,’ said Marc, ‘I didn’t have time to tell you everything. Mathias caught Lina Sevran, who was hiding nearby.’

‘My God! What have you done with her?’

‘Mathias is holding on to her, don’t worry.’

‘Could she get away from him?’

Marc shrugged.

‘Back home, Mathias is the log-carrier. Without damaging them, mind, because he likes wood. I only carry little dustbin bags. Look, there are flashing lights, the emergency services have got here.’

Louis heard Marc draw a deep breath of relief.

Mathias was still standing on the clifftop, holding Lina in a stranglehold, with one hand. Down below, men were busy around Gaël’s body.

‘What’s the news?’ asked Marc.

‘Don’t know,’ said Mathias. ‘They took down a stretcher and first-aid stuff.’

‘What about Guerrec?’ said Marc. ‘We’ll have to call Guerrec.’

‘I know,’ said Louis, looking at Lina. ‘But we don’t have to do that this minute. We have time for a few words. Bring her over here, Mathias.’

Mathias gently propelled Lina away from the edge of the cliff.

‘Guerrec will be along soon,’ Louis said to her.

‘I didn’t push him,’ murmured Lina.

‘Why did you say “push”? He could just have fallen.’

Lina dropped her head, and Louis raised it again.

‘He just fell,’ said Lina.

‘No, he didn’t. But you know who pushed him and you almost said it. Gaël is from round here, he knows these cliffs like the back of his hand. Why were you hiding in a corner?’

‘I was out walking. I heard a cry, and I was scared.’

‘Mathias didn’t hear any cry.’

‘He was further away.’

‘There was no cry,’ said Mathias.

‘Yes. Gaël cried out. I was scared, so I took shelter.’

‘If you were scared, you wouldn’t have been out walking alone at night. And when you hear a cry like someone falling, you run to help, don’t you? No reason to hide, either way. Unless you pushed him.’

‘I didn’t push him,’ Lina repeated.

‘Then you saw someone else push him.’

‘No.’

‘Lina,’ said Louis, more gently still. ‘Guerrec will be along very soon. He’s a cop. A man falls off the cliff thirteen days after Marie’s death. We find you here, hiding in the trees. If you can’t find something better to say, Guerrec will simply do his job as a cop.’

Marc looked at the other three. Lina was still trembling, and Louis no longer looked like a Merovingian Goth.

‘Well, what about you?’ Lina spoke again. ‘What job are you doing? I know who you are now, the mayor’s wife told me. I don’t see that you’re any different from Guerrec.’

‘Well, I am. You’d do better to talk to me.’

‘No.’

Louis signalled to Mathias who took Lina to one side. She was trembling, but gave the impression of being quite removed from events, and that didn’t fit.

An hour later, the scene was deserted. The Fouesnant gendarmes had been and gone, Guerrec had arrived and then left to take Lina Sevran home. Gaël had been transported, unconscious, to hospital in Quimper.

‘I could do with a beer,’ said Louis.

The three men had gathered in Kehlweiler’s hotel room. Marc wouldn’t go to fetch the beer, because Louis had put it in the bathroom with Bufo. Louis fetched three bottles. Marc contemplated the neck of his bottle.

‘Lina Sevran,’ he said softly, pressing the bottle against his eye, ‘was sleeping with Gaël. That was the couple in the cabin. Marie surprised them. So she kills her. Why?’

‘Fear of a divorce,’ said Mathias.

‘Yes, she needs the engineer’s money. Then afterwards she kills her fragile toy boy, to keep him quiet.’

‘Come away from that bottle,’ said Louis. ‘If she was sleeping with Gaël, why not wait till the engineer was in Paris? Why go and freeze in an uncomfortable cabin at five o’clock, when you could have a nice warm bed at eight?’

‘There could be reasons. She was there when Gaël fell. And she shot the dog.’

‘I’m thinking of that,’ said Louis.

‘What did she say to you?’

‘I didn’t talk to her about the cliff or the dog. I talked to her about her first husband. He died falling off a balcony, remember?’

‘An accident, surely?’

‘A fall, like Gaël’s. As a way of committing murder, it’s simple and perfect.’

‘And what did she say?’

Louis shrugged his shoulders.

‘She said she didn’t push him either, same as with Gaël. And she trembled more than ever. It seems she’s still horrified by that business. I asked her about Diego Lacasta, who had changed from being as brave as a bullfighter in her defence one day, to becoming mute as if he had been struck dumb a week later. She confirmed that, and she added, even, that Diego always seemed to have suspected her. Before the accident, he was friendly and liked chatting with her, and he had ferociously defended her during the police inquiry. And then there was a sudden change in his attitude, he clammed up, he looked as if he didn’t trust her any more. She says that without the constant support of Marie, Sevran and the children, she wouldn’t have survived.’

‘Does she know where Diego is?’

‘No, but she must be pleased to be rid of him. He weighed on her like some old dumb ghost.’

Marc blew into his bottle.

‘And the dumb ghost has disappeared too,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Louis.

Louis paced round the small room and went to stand by the window. It was past two in the morning. Mathias was dozing on one of the twin beds.

‘We need to know who the couple was,’ Louis said at last.

‘You think there really was one?’

‘Yes. Once we know that, we’ll be able to tell whether that’s something solid or just a distraction. And whether the writer of the poem was simply a sneak, or a murderer providing a red herring for us. There must be someone who can tell us who Gaël’s girlfriend was.’

‘Darnas?’

‘No. Darnas guesses, but he doesn’t know. We need someone who snoops on everyone for his own advantage.’

‘The mayor?’

‘Chevalier isn’t the sharpest knife in the box, but he’s not a sewer rat. If he had his own sources of information, he wouldn’t have to resort to going through his rival’s dustbins. No, I’m thinking of that arsehole Blanchet.’

‘
He
won’t want to help you.’

‘Why not?’

Louis turned round. He stood still for a few seconds, then picked up his jacket.

‘Are you coming?’

‘Where are you going?’ asked Marc sleepily.

‘To Blanchet’s, where do you think?’

Marc took his eye away from the bottle. He had a red mark now around his eye.

‘At this time of night? Are you mad?’

‘We’re not here to preserve the man’s beauty sleep. Two murders, that’s enough. There’s some kind of purge going on in this village.’

Louis looked into the bathroom, decided against taking Bufo, gathered up some papers from the table, and stuffed them into his inside pocket.

‘Hurry up,’ said Louis. ‘You don’t have any choice, because if I get punched on the jaw by Blanchet while you’re snoring away in the hotel, you’ll torture yourself with guilt until the end of time, and that will stop you working on your Middle Ages.’

‘
Blanchet?
You suspect him? Just because you don’t like the way he looks, because he looks like he pisses vinegar?’

‘You think it’s normal to piss vinegar? You think you know something about the way he pisses?’

‘Oh, give us a break!’ shouted Marc, standing up.

Louis stood facing Marc and examined him calmly. He pulled Marc’s collar up, pushed back his shoulders and lifted his chin.

‘Right, that’s better,’ he said. ‘Try to look dangerous. Come on,
dangerous
, we’re not going to spend all night there.’

Marc felt sorry he’d come. He ought to have stayed in his nice cosy thirteenth century, in his house, in his bedroom, in Paris. This Merovingian Goth was completely crazy. Nevertheless, he tried to look dangerous. If he’d been a man, it would have been easy, oh, come on, he
was
a man, just as well.

Kehlweiler shook his head.

‘Think of something nasty,’ he insisted. ‘Not food or the toad, something on a grand scale.’

‘Simon de Montfort and the massacre of the Albigensians?’

‘If you like,’ sighed Louis. ‘Yes, that’s better, almost credible. The whole time we’re there, think about that Simon chap. And bring
him
along,’ he added, pointing to the sleeping Mathias. ‘He could be useful.’

LOUIS KNOCKED SEVERAL
times at Blanchet’s front door. Marc was on edge; little muscles were twitching all over his back. Every aspect of the massacre of the Albigensians went through his mind, he was gripping his beer bottle, one finger wedged in its mouth. Mathias had asked no questions, and was standing in the shadows, a giant in sandals, unmoving but ready for action. A sound came from behind the door. It opened slightly, on to the security chain. Blanchet was in his dressing gown.

‘Let us in, Blanchet,’ said Louis. ‘Gaël has been pushed off the cliff, we need to talk.’

‘What the fuck has that got to do with me?’ said Blanchet.

‘If you hope to be mayor one day, it could be in your interest to get involved.’

Blanchet undid the door, looking hostile, distrustful, but interested.

‘If he’s dead, what’s so urgent?’

‘That’s just it. He isn’t dead. He may be able to talk if he comes out of his coma. See how that might be awkward?’

‘No, because it’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Take us inside, we can’t stand on your porch all night. Not very welcoming, your porch.’

Blanchet shook his head. He adopted the persona he had paraded earlier: bluff, good-natured fellow, difficult at times, but rock solid. Marc thought that Mathias’s size and Louis’s Gothic expression might have had something to do with his yielding so quickly. Blanchet propelled them into a small office, pointed them to chairs, and sat himself down behind a large desk with gilded feet.

Louis sat facing him, arms folded, long legs stretched out.

‘Well?’ said Blanchet. ‘So someone pushed Gaël off a cliff? If you hadn’t come stirring up shit around here, that wouldn’t have happened. You’ll have him on your conscience,
Monsieur
Kehlweiler. And now you’re looking for a scapegoat?’

‘Apparently, there was some couple that used to meet in the Vauban Cove cabin. What I want to know is the name of Gaël’s mistress. Come on, Blanchet, give us a name.’

‘Oh, I’m supposed to know that, am I?’

‘Yes. Because you collect all the gossip you can, in case it might come in handy at election time. I’d be most disappointed in you if you didn’t know.’

‘Well, you’re quite wrong, Kehlweiler. Yes, I do want to be mayor, I’ve never made any secret of that, and I’ll get there. But in a clean fight. I don’t need to parade anyone’s dirty linen.’

‘Oh yes you do, Blanchet. You whisper in corners, you say one thing to the right, another to the left, you discredit people, you set them against each other, you calculate, you manoeuvre and when the mix is right, you get yourself elected. Not just in Port-Nicolas, you’re aiming for bigger things. You’re too old for this game, give it up. So come on, what’s her name, Gaël’s mistress, girlfriend, whatever? Hurry up, we’ve got two murders on our hands, I want to make sure there’s not a third, if you don’t mind.’

‘Especially if it’s you, eh?’

‘It could be me, yes.’