Jacquot and the Waterman (53 page)

'When Monsieur Picquart left the showroom yesterday, did he have any visitors while he was out?' Jacquot asked. 'Anyone go into his office?'

Maxine looked at Picquart, as though it was her boss who'd asked the question. 'No one, Monsieur. Nobody was in here.'

'Thank you, Maxine,' said Jacquot.

She bobbed and left.

'You want me to call in Sardé?' asked Picquart.

'And he would be where . . . ?' asked Jacquot.

'Workshop, most likely,' replied Picquart. 'Out back.'

Jacquot pointed to the calendar and the second door. 'Can I get there through here?'

'Sure, go ahead.' Picquart started to get to his feet. 'I'll show you over there.'

'No, no, it's fine,' said Jacquot, opening the door. A gust of warm breeze pushed its way in and riffled through the pinnings on the cork board. 'Just a word and then I'm on my way.'

'You mind my asking what it's all about? The de Cotignys?'

Jacquot paused in the doorway, as though considering Picquart's request.

'Yes. I do,' he replied with a smile and stepped out into the sunshine. The man would find out soon enough.

It was only a few steps from Picquart's office to the workshop. A Citroen van with
Piscine Picquart
painted on the side had been backed up into the entrance since his arrival. Jacquot noted that the offside flank had been crumpled and when he saw Sardé gathering up a coil of hoses from the workbench - the white shorts and T-shirt, the limbs brown and muscled, the bleached hair - he knew he'd seen the man before. In a side street off rue St-Ferreol on Monday night, the Citroen wedged up against a bollard and Sardé getting out to inspect the damage, lifting a finger to the beeping drivers held up behind him and unable to squeeze past. When he was good and ready and not before. Like he couldn't give a damn. Like he'd like to see anyone step out of their car and discuss it with him.

'You want the boss, he's in the office,' said Sardé, lugging the coil of hoses to the van, hefting them into the back.

'And you are?'

'What's it to you?' asked Sardé, returning to the workbench for another load.

'Whatever I want to make of it,' replied Jacquot, flashing his badge. 'So why don't you put down the hoses and pay attention?'

Sardé tossed the second load of hoses into the van, then took a stance, stuck his hands in his pockets and gazed over Jacquot's shoulder to the flyover.

Jacquot suspected this wasn't the first time that Sardé had dealt with the police. The other thing Jacquot could see, behind the bored look on Sardé s face, was a sudden discomfort. This was a man with something to hide.

'Last evening,' began Jacquot. 'Between five-thirty and eight, you were where?'

Sardé shrugged, stalling while he thought up a convincing answer. So that was what this was about. Roucas Blanc. There'd been a complaint.

'I dunno. Having a beer someplace?'

'Where, exactly?'

Another shrug, digging the toe of his trainer into the dirt. He nodded along the strip. 'Henri's. Up Plombières

way.'

'And how long were you there?'

'Hour. Maybe two. Played some pool.' As soon as he gave the additional information, Sardé knew he'd gone too far - volunteered too much.

Jacquot knew it too.

'And you were playing pool with?'

'Couple of the lads.'

'Friends?'

Jacquot could see Sardé trying to work out whether it was better to say friends, or some guys he didn't know.

'Sure,' he said, sounding even more uncertain.

'Names? Addresses?'

'Look. . .'

'You said they were friends. So they'll confirm you were there. Right?'

'Sure. Sure.' Sardé could see that he'd dug himself a hole and was standing on the edge. 'So what's all this about, then?'

Jacquot didn't mind the dodge, the sidetrack. He knew the man was lying. No point pursuing it.

'You worked here long?'

'Two years.'

'You like it?'

Jacquot could see that Sardé had no idea where this was going.

'It's okay.'

'You get out a lot? Deliveries? Better than an office.'

Sardé nodded, eyes flickering.

'When was the last time you visited the de Cotigny property? Roucas Blanc?'

Sardé made the mistake of trying to repeat the name, as though he couldn't quite place it. The two words came larded with a throaty guilt.

'De Cotigny?' He pulled a hand from his pocket and scratched the side of his nose. 'Couldn't say. A month, maybe. You'd have to ask the boss.'

'He says Monday.'

'Yeah, well. Maybe. We got a lot of contract work, you know. Difficult to remember every place. One pool's much like any other.'

'You know Madame de Cotigny?'

'Sure. Seen her around, you know.'

Jacquot nodded. 'Attractive woman.'

'You say so.'

'You got a coat,
mon ami?'

'No,
I...'

'So what are we waiting for? Let's go.'

It took just seven words, in the car back to town, to get the truth out of Sardé.

'Madame de Cotigny was murdered last night,' said

Jacquot lightly as he turned into Boulevard des Plombières.

'Jesus!' said Sardé with some feeling. But nothing more.

Halfway along Plombieres, Jacquot slowed the car and pulled up outside the bar where Sardé had claimed he'd been playing pool the night before.

'Isn't this Henri's?' asked Jacquot, turning to look at his passenger. He didn't switch off the engine; he knew they wouldn't be getting out of the car.

'Look . . .' began Sardé.

And Jacquot had him.

'Okay. I was there, right, out at Roucas Blanc,' said Sardé.

'Doing what?' asked Jacquot, as he pulled away from Henri's and headed on towards town.

'Waiting.'

'Waiting for what?'

'For . . . you know . . . Getting it together. There's a lot of ladies like her in my line of work. Bored, you know. Want some fun.'

'Madame de Cotigny?'

'Sure. Look,' Sardé said, a little desperate now, realising what a fix he was in. 'You didn't know her. She was up for it, right? Asking for it. Giving me all sorts of come-ons. I was just goin' round to collect.'

'So she called you, set up the meet?'

'No, I just. . .'

'Just thought you'd call by?'

Sardé gave a kind of non-committal shrug.

'So you get the key from the boss's office while he's out?'

'Right. . .'

'Replace it with another?' 'Right..

'So how did you know last night would be a good time to call?'

'I didn't. I mean, I knew it was the staff's day off, but that's all.'

'So you were going to take a look, see if the coast was clear?'

'Right. Right.'

'And what happened?'