Jacquot and the Waterman (8 page)

Knowing Carnot, Raissac suspected it wouldn't have
taken him long to find out what was going on: that
it was
the third time they'd met up - twice before with the
woman, and that evening with the husband too
-
and most
important, that it was an ongoing thing.

Silly bitch, thought Raissac, as they pulled up through
the bends of Monts de la Ginestre, the Renault groaning
with effort, its automatic transmission playing between
first and second as though it couldn't make up its mind
what land of revs the corners and gradient needed. Silly,
silly little bitch. Hoping to make a little on
the
side, was
she? Trying to go independent. If it hadn't been for Carnot
calling by, she'd never have said a word. And after they'd
set her up like that. Some stupid twenty-something trying
it on for size. Trying to get the better of them after all
they'd done for her.

In Raissac's game, you always had to look out for
that.
Girls thinking they could go independent, and get away
with it. Which, Raissac acknowledged, was yet another
fatal flaw. Underestimating the opposition.
Who
the hell
did she think they were? Choirboys? But she'd soon
discovered how far out of their league she was.

As
the Renault rounded the last bend on the Ginestre
Col and started the long, winding descent into Vaufreges
and the city beyond, Raissac put Vicki out of his mind and
settled his thoughts on more pleasing matters.
New
friends to tap, a new route to use, and the money as good
as in the bag. All in all, he decided, everything was shaping
up pretty much as planned, and by the time Coupchoux
drew up at the Sofitel, Raissac was feeling very contented.

Equally contented was Toni, the Sofitel doorman, in his
braided hat and burgundy topcoat. Conference delegates
on business expenses - it didn't get any better. Only an
hour into his shift and already a thousand francs up. The
notes were easy to carry, but any more coin and the seams
in his pockets would split. The thought of his money
rolling across the forecourt made him wince. Pretty soon
he'd have to unload at the
Caisse
desk inside, or have one
of the porters take a bag of it down to his locker. Neither
prospect appealed. Rudi at the
Caisse
would be sure to
touch him for a cut, and not being able to count it out
there was no telling how much the porter would lift en
route to the staff changing room.

Toni was considering his options when a dusty old
Renault swung up the drive and rattled to a stop not
twenty feet away. One look at the scraped paintwork, the
coat-hanger aerial and mismatched hubcaps was all it took.
A franc if he was lucky, and he had enough of those
already. Without another thought Toni turned his attention
to the "Welcome Delegates' board, busying himself with
minute adjustments to the lettering until he heard a car
door slam and steps approach.

Dusting off his gloved hands he stood back to check his
handiwork, then turned to greet the new arrival. How he
kept his cool, he'd never know. Strolling towards him
across the forecourt, buttoning up a slickly double-
breasted suit and loosening a silk scarf, was the nastiest
piece of work Toni had ever set eyes on. And ugly. Jesus,
what a face. Jesus
. . .
The kind of man you didn't want to
cross if you could possibly help it. The kind of man you
opened a car door for, or God help you. That long thin
face, those sleepy eyes, that tight, icy smile. Sent a chill
right through you.

'Bonjour, Monsieur, bonjour,'
Toni managed, but the
man was past him, trotting up the steps.

Out on the forecourt, the Renault driver caught Tonis
eye, shook his head and smiled.

It
was the other side's prop. He just came out ofnowhere. Not so fast, you know. But heavy, and
looking for trouble.'

Rully, hair awry, bare-chested, his groin artfully crumpled with a sheet, peered mournfully down the bed.

Jacquot looked with him. The left leg was plastered in a
bright white cast that reached to the top of his thigh, the
peeping toes a bruised red, the joints blackened with
bristly black hairs. An inch above the ankle, the cast was
cradled in a sling, the sling attached to a steel cord
stretching up through a system of pulleys and secured to a
large silver weight.

'Last match of the season, you know?
Amicale.
Just a
testimonial,' sighed Rully.

'Prop, you said. Left ear gone? Nose flat?'

Rully nodded. 'That's the one.'

'Mastin, from Brives. Has to be. Used to play for Perpignan.' Jacquot knew the man. A tough little bugger. Any
excuse. And he didn't care if the referee saw him. It was
what those Brives fans wanted. And Mastin gave it to them.
'Nasty piece of work,' continued Jacquot, sliding a finger
into the neck of his T-shirt. Not mid-morning yet and the
temperature was already climbing into the twenties.

The two men fell silent. Jacquot leant back in his chair
and looked around. Third floor in La Conception. A
private room at the back. Jacquot had been here a few
times - other colleagues. Knife wounds, bullets, baseball
bats - anything sharp, heavy or blunt. Now it was Rully.

'I was turning to pass and he hit me like a train,' his
partner began again. 'I went down over the leg. Heard it
break.' Rully nodded at the lower half of the cast. 'Then
the knee twisting. Funny,' he continued, looking at Jacquot. 'Didn't feel a thing.'

'You don't,' replied Jacquot. 'I know.'

And he did. Not a bone for him, but the long stretch
and surrendering snap of an Achilles tendon, the foot
trailing, a wave of nausea. But no pain. Not then.

Outside in the corridor a trolley rattled past.

'I'm sorry, Dan,' said Rully quietly. 'I know it's not a
good time.'

'Hey, it happens,' replied Jacquot, waving it away. 'But
I'm sorrier for you. How long?'

'Week here like this. Then maybe I get out. Who
knows? They don't tell you much.' Rully shrugged, then
changed the subject. 'You get any leads up in Salon?'

Jacquot brought his partner up to speed, the same
information he'd given Guimpier an hour earlier. 'The
victim was in the lake a week, maybe longer. Naked.
Mid-twenties. Nothing bar a tattoo to identify her. No
jewellery and no clothing. The local boys went over the
shoreline as much as they could but didn't find a thing.