Murder on Brittany Shores (30 page)

Dupin and Riwal sat together for a few minutes longer and had a discussion. Dupin made it brief, he wanted to speak to Muriel Lefort as soon as possible.

By now the press had arrived too of course, they were long since overdue. ‘The press' meant the two chief reporters from the
Finistère-Sud
-editorial department at
Télégramme
and
Ouest France.
The old, well-loved and although not exactly tall, still practically round Drollec, a real gourmand, and the delicate, intellectual, mid-thirties Donal with her stylishly angular black glasses (Dupin liked the unusual duo somehow). They often turned up together out of necessity, whenever there was ‘something big' going on. Both of them were very much people of few words, but when they met like this they were obviously not unpleasant to each other either. As if they had agreed to abandon the attempts to be ‘the first' in order to get all the more information together. Their arrangement which, in the end, always led to a tie between the two papers, didn't work badly, Dupin had to admit. Right now, they were at the spot where the bodies had been found on Le Loc'h.

*   *   *

Dupin approached the ugly triangular houses via the same path as the day before, looking as he did so at the same breathtaking panorama beneath the still predominantly deep Atlantic-blue sky. Yet everything was different from yesterday.

Dupin noticed that Muriel Lefort's house was not in as good condition as her brother's, the roof was covered in moss, it must have been a while since its last coat of paint. As at Lucas Lefort's, you had to walk once around the house to get to the entrance. Even Muriel Lefort's garden consisted mainly of bushy lawn. Two camellia bushes, which had definitely never got very big or beautiful, stood a little sadly at the edge.

After a quick ring on the doorbell, Muriel Lefort opened the door. Her hair was dishevelled, her face severe, even narrower than before. Instead of the unconventional tweed skirt with the tight blouse, today she was wearing jeans and a wide, light blue tunic, which, oddly, did not make her appearance seem more casual. Dupin had an impression of old-fashionedness, a slight stiffness, and it didn't stem from the clothing.

‘I'm glad you're here, Monsieur le Commissaire.'

She really did seem relieved.

‘Of course. As I said, I have a series of questions for you too.'

Deep creases appeared on her forehead, which she didn't try to hide.

‘Where should I begin?' It was clear that she was finding talking difficult. It took a moment before she was able to go on.

‘I have to tell you something,' she broke off again. ‘Maela Menez had an affair with my brother,' she sounded dramatic and downcast in equal measures now, ‘seven years ago. She tried to keep it quiet, but of course I noticed.'

Muriel Lefort looked at the floor in embarrassment. They were still standing in the doorway, which she only seemed to realise now.

‘Sorry – I didn't mean to be rude. Please do come in.'

Dupin didn't react at first. Then he stepped inside.

‘Your assistant had an affair with your brother?'

That would never have crossed his mind. Madame Lefort led Dupin to the small suite of four armchairs right in front of the large panorama window that looked out on the terrace.

‘I'm terribly sorry that I didn't tell you earlier, I'm finding this extremely unpleasant. The affair went on for months in fact.'

‘And then it just finished?'

‘Yes. She swore it to me. And I would have noticed, believe you me. She ended it. She almost collapsed when I confronted her, she was absolutely hysterical. She had embarked on this relationship even though she knew that it was not the same thing for her as it was for him.'

‘What do you mean by that?'

‘She was truly in love. And he wasn't interested in her in the slightest.'

‘Your brother was the embodiment, if I understand correctly, of the opposite of Madame Menez's convictions in every respect, which are apparently very clear and strict.'

Dupin himself had enough experience to know that this didn't make any difference.

‘It was a betrayal. Yes.'

The harsh word contrasted oddly with the way in which Madame Lefort had uttered it, almost off-handedly.

‘Has there been any kind of contact between the two of them since then that went beyond business? Did something happen recently?'

‘No. Nothing at all. She assured me that there had been no incidents of any kind since. No scandal, nothing. I believe her.'

‘She didn't write to him, didn't try to talk to him?'

‘No. We didn't even talk about it any more after a certain point. It was as if it had never happened. I think there was a tacit agreement between us on that.'

There was nothing unforgiving in her tone, in fact it was almost sympathetic.

‘And what do you personally think about this affair?'

‘Me?'

She seemed surprised. ‘I was really hurt by it, as I'm sure you can imagine.'

Dupin wasn't sure whether this whole thing was so unpleasant for Muriel Lefort because she might be making Madame Menez suspicious in the eyes of the police by sharing it, or because she assumed that she herself was becoming more suspicious because she had held back this information until now. A long pause developed. Dupin wanted to let her talk. Muriel Lefort looked like there was something else she wanted to say. But nothing more followed.

‘Thank you for sharing this. I don't know myself whether this story is relevant, but I am keen to gather as much information as possible about each person in a case as tangled as this one.'

She was still silent.

‘You spoke of several points on the phone.'

‘Yes.'

She sounded more composed now, Dupin's support seemed to be working.

‘I wanted to tell you in person that I will profit hugely from the death of my brother. I was informed this afternoon that Lucas didn't make a will and that I will therefore inherit everything. We still have the same notary, he and I. So the sailing school and the properties will belong solely to me.'

These sentences practically came gushing out of her. She had looked Dupin right in the eye as she spoke. He tried to remain outwardly indifferent.

‘Your inspector had already asked me about it twice.'

‘We work together very closely.'

‘I don't know whether you've also already found out that I offered to buy my brother out of his stake in the Glénan several times. Absolutely nonsense offers.'

‘I already know that too.'

She looked anxiously and expectantly at him.

‘I think that would indeed be a perfect motive: my brother sets sail drunk, in boundless hubris, during a gathering storm at sea and suffers a shipwreck – nobody would have been surprised. Everyone knew how arrogant he was. And the sailing school belongs to me the next day.'

Dupin was silent. A silence that Muriel Lefort couldn't stand for long.

‘What do you think, Monsieur le Commissaire?'

‘That would have been nearly a perfect murder, yes. Coincidence had other ideas.'

‘Am I a suspect?'

‘Yes, you are.'

Madame Lefort was silent now. It was a weighty silence, her facial features had become shapeless. Her voice cracked.

‘I didn't hate my brother, believe me,' she was speaking very softly now, ‘but I disdained him. Yes. And fought with him. Because he would have destroyed my parents' work if he had been able to, their great ideas. My parents were both in the Résistance as young people. They chose the Glénan for themselves and their lives in the spirit of their group and wanted to pass on this spirit through the sailing and the school. They believed in something, risked their lives for it. This is their legacy. That's what they and everything that they were, stood for. They never wanted to make a business out of it. Even when more and more people came from all over and they realised that you could earn a lot of money from it.'

‘You don't just inherit the part of the sailing school that belonged to your brother, you also inherit the land – more than half of Saint-Nicolas, if I'm not mistaken and the islands of Cigogne and Penfret?'

Dupin deliberately posed his question nonchalantly.

‘Yes.'

He looked at her. As neutrally as possible.

‘And not only would you have disposed of your brother. In one fell swoop you would have got rid of everyone who threatened all of this here.'

‘Yes. My motives must seem stronger and stronger to you.'

‘That's true.'

‘We're definitely talking a good – about sixty or eighty million euro all told.'

‘And, did you do it, Madame Lefort?' Dupin asked calmly.

Muriel Lefort's eyes twitched for a moment, a twitch that spread over her entire face.

‘No.'

‘Did you know that your brother founded a company especially for the new plans?
Les Glénans vertes?
And that Pajot and Konan had a consortium that wanted to have a stake in this firm?'

Muriel was visibly confused. By the change of subject too.

‘No. I didn't know anything about that.'

‘How much was known about these new plans here on the archipelago then?'

‘Nothing at all, I don't think. Lucas was aware that everyone here would have been against them – irrespective of exactly how the plans looked now. Even back when he submitted them the first time, everyone was against them in the end. Even though he did manage to make a few people fall for it at the beginning.'

‘Who fell for it back then?'

‘Several people, but at some point they saw through him. At first he pretended he wanted to save the sailing school and our whole world out here. He said that there was interest ‘from outside' in investing in the Glénan and developing tourism. Solenn Nuz and her husband were fully on board at first and Kilian Tanguy, but then they swiftly and categorically distanced themselves. They originally thought everything would happen in a kind of collective. Like in the sailing school. Lucas had conveyed it like that. But then it became clear that they were simply to invest in his business and that he was planning to exploit the archipelago, which would have destroyed everything. Konan was already on board back then too. Plus Lucas was able to produce two further investors from the mainland, whom he lost again equally quickly. – The more famous he became as a sailor, the more he was in contact with all of these people.'

‘And Devan Le Menn, the doctor – was he on board too?'

‘Yes, he was one of the two.'

‘Did he stay on board when the others turned away?'

‘I couldn't tell you.'

‘Was he already a friend of your brother's back then?'

‘He had been his doctor for a long time. Lucas had a few serious accidents, mostly through recklessness and sometimes he only just escaped with his life. He liked to sail in severe storms. Le Menn patched him up over and over again. He also mentored him as a competitive sportsman. At some point they became friends. I don't know how close the friendship was.'

Dupin wondered whether he should tell her about Le Menn's disappearance.

‘Did anything in particular strike you in relation to Le Menn recently?'

Madame Lefort looked at him, at a loss.

‘No. But I don't see him often either.'

‘He was also in the
Quatre Vents
on Sunday evening, if only briefly. Like you.'

Dupin had also said this in a deliberately neutral tone.

‘I didn't see him. I was probably already gone by then. Or else he was.'

‘We don't know…'

Dupin's mobile, which had been quiet for an unusually long time, shrilled loudly. It was Riwal.

‘Excuse me a moment, Madame Lefort.'

Dupin answered the call.

‘One of the helicopters has found Le Menn's boat. It's on the south coast of Brilimec. On the side facing the open sea. It's one of the smaller islands. Diagonally on the beach, so he must have got there hours ago, when it was still high tide.'

Riwal's voice was almost cracking.

‘Hello? Hello, chief?'

Dupin was silent. This was serious news. It took him a few seconds to compose himself.

‘Call Goulch. He can't be far away on the
Bir.
He's to pick us up straight away. We are going to Brilimec. Let's meet at the quay.'

‘When?'

‘Now.'

*   *   *

A quarter of an hour later Dupin found himself on a boat for the third time already that day, hurtling across the waves at top speed once more. This time he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely took any notice. Things were escalating – whatever it was that was going on here.

Dupin was standing in the bow. He could feel the tension throughout his body and he was in a grim, determined mood. Riwal was positioned diagonally behind him. They stared, spellbound, at Brilimec, nowdirectly ahead of them. Neither really noticed that they kept getting hit by sea spray.

They began toscan the teardrop-shaped island carefully. Brilimec was barely a hundred and fifty metres long and absolutely overgrown with thick, scraggy grasses. In a few places the grasses soared to about ten metres – which was quite a lot for the archipelago – and some powerful and bizarre granite rock formations towered steeply upwards. At the wider end of the island stood an abandoned house, of which only the roof could be made out from the ship.

‘I'll drive around the island, to Le Menn's boat,' called Goulch.

Suddenly something occurred to Dupin. He turned to Riwal.

‘I need to know something.'

He had to shout.

‘Yes?'

‘Who do we have on Saint-Nicolas?'

‘Only one person at the moment. Philippe Le Coz.'

‘I need to speak to him straight away.'

Dupin moved into the stern and waited for Goulch to throttle the engine a little, because they had almost rounded the island. They could see Le Menn's boat clearly from here.