A Death in Time, page 16
‘Lartou? An inscribed naming ring for you. Victim’s little finger, right hand.’
Lartigue took it and made the entry on his sheet.
‘When you receive the scene photos, share them just with me, Bonbon, Flak and R.O for the time being, alright?’
‘Right, chief.’
‘And if he hasn’t got here by the time Map releases the victim’s effects, log them in as usual but then…’
The arrival of Ormans himself obviated further clarification.
‘Gentlemen, once again, I apologise for the tardiness of my entrance. I am however assured that my long-promised replacement vehicle is being delivered this afternoon.’ His gaze fell on the stretcher. ‘Good Lord. The dumpster murderer’s work again?’
‘Map isn’t ruling it out but listen, R.O. I’m interested in the victim’s wristwatch. Once Lartou’s logged it in, he’s going to hand it over to you straight away. Do your usual stuff and then try to work out why it’s in the state it is, will you?’
‘Certainly.’
Lartigue’s bald head was a blank canvas on which even the slightest deviations from neutrality were readable. At Darac’s question, frank puzzlement registered vividly. ‘Sorry, chief, but it got smashed, didn’t it? In the attack. And that’s presumably why the attacker didn’t take it in the end.’
‘If it got smashed in the attack, Lartou, the question is how and why.’
Darac had no sooner left the tent than his mobile rang.
‘Bonbon?’
‘Can Map hear this? We may have something useful for him as well as us.’
‘No, I’m en route to you, now. Go for it, anyway.’
‘OK, the source of the anguished outpouring is a 34 year-old local businessman by the name of Dilip Padar.’ He spelled it. ‘He’s a cloth importer hailing originally from Bengaluru in southern India which is home to the family’s silk production business. He is saying that the murder victim is his 23 year-old sister Samira who was studying for a post-graduate degree in law at the university, and who was a member of Gilles Laborde’s elite athletics squad. Flak’s checking what she can of that as we speak.’
‘That potentially fits what Map and I have just learned but how does this Dilip character know who the victim is?’
‘Hold on to your hat, chief. Before he hobbled off to his apartment for a restorative lie down, nauseous gateman Monsieur Eric Cauvin called him on his mobile with the news.’
‘He did what?’ Darac looked to the heavens, momentarily. ‘Do you know what an oxymoron is, Bonbon?’
‘Sounds like a good name for a Real Madrid fan.’
‘Possibly, but I was just about to tell you in plain language that I was speechless. That is an oxymoron.’
‘Got you.’
‘So Eric recognised the victim and rather than telling us about it or keeping it to himself – which some might well have done – he calls the victim’s brother to tell him.’
‘That’s about the size of it, chief.’
‘The man sounded hysterical just a few minutes ago. He said all this coherently?’
‘In between tears and vows to get the killer.’
‘Will he be calm enough to go through a video viewing in the lab, do you reckon? In about an hour and a half, Map estimates.’
‘I think he’ll want to try, anyway. He was desperate to see what we were trying to prevent him seeing in the tent, after all.’
Darac had another uncomfortable thought about Eric Cauvin. ‘Let’s hope misguided compassion was his motive and he left it at just that one call. If Annie Provin from Télé-Sud turns up at any moment, we’ll know it wasn’t.’
‘Head Coach Gilles Laborde’s another possibility and let’s hope Dilip didn’t call anyone else.’
‘Indeed. Cauvin must have been sure, mustn’t he? Of who had been killed, I mean. I don’t know how, though.’
‘He sees these people regularly, mind you. Maybe only one of the women wore those particular trainers or whatever.’
‘I guess so although a killer could easily swap something like that around. Other items wouldn’t prove so easy, mind you.’ He referred to the naming ring. ‘Although it doesn’t make sense to have gone to the trouble of doing any of that and then leave the body.’
‘You mean if there was a point in making us believe the victim was someone else for what would obviously be a very short time, you can’t think of one?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Me neither. But as someone once said, all will become clear.’
‘I should have copyrighted that line. Where are you exactly?’
‘Next to a squad van parked outside the changing rooms. We left Dilip in the back of it – the van, not the rooms –with a trio of Joinel’s most sympa uniforms.’
‘OK. This looks the sort of case in which things happen thick and fast, Bonbon, so let’s put a quick plan of action together.’
Raising Eric Cauvin on one of the numbers Reixe had given them was their first priority. Darac resolved to do this, and conduct the consequent interview himself. Unless other developments intervened, Bonbon and Flaco were to continue with Dilip for the time being.
Staffing wasn’t usually a problem for the Brigade but with Granot now leading the Port Lympia/dumpster murder investigation, the trio would have to progress matters on the ground without the invaluable contribution he would certainly have made. Functioning without the erratic assistance of young Max Perand was of lesser importance but he too would be missed.
‘Does he live nearby, this Dilip?’
‘Saint-Philippe. Hang on… Les Appartements Mimosas, Avenue Primerose, to be exact.’
‘About fifteen minutes away, then. How did he get here?’
‘Drove. Parked in clear sight of the caravan gate where – get this – there was no sign of anyone on guard. What say Reixe hadn’t nipped home for his quack-quack and he and Yammie Boy had gone for a burn-up on the A8? So Dilip just climbed in, got straight on to the pitch and, dragging a couple of uniforms behind him, made it as far as the tent.’
‘Until he ran into the rock that is Flak. Oh, and the hard place that is your good self.’
‘The strongarm department was all Flak, don’t worry.’
‘I can believe there was no one on the gate but we can’t have this, Bonbon. I’m calling Saucisson now.’ He hesitated. ‘No, wait. There’s a better way. I didn’t really want to do this but… Putting you on hold a second.’
He tapped key number one. ‘Agnès? With all you have on your plate, I thought twice about asking but we need tighter security at the Stade. It’s open house here, practically. Could you do something?’ Agnès promised that she would get on to Commissariat Foch immediately and that their preferred site security unit would be dispatched within minutes. She would then call Sorbissone at Joinel to explain matters.
‘I’m back, Bonbon.’ He updated him. ‘So Agnès to the rescue again, basically.’
‘Whoever said “no one is irreplaceable” didn’t know her.’
‘Absolutely. Anything else from said Dilip?’
‘A good few things, potentially. He wanted to know where Samira’s Renault was. Did you notice the parking area kinks sharply round to the right at the end?’
‘I saw the way the surface deteriorated the further it went but I didn’t notice the kink.’
‘We haven’t explored it yet but I asked Patricia to tape that area off, too. With the tree and shrub cover, it’s hidden from the end everyone uses, as you’ve just proved.’
‘Interesting. Obviously, the Renault wasn’t there or we’d already have been made aware of it.’
‘True but perhaps she didn’t use it last evening. Got a lift with one of the other athletes? Maybe she often does that.’
‘Maybe so. Ah, I see you, now.’
‘Ditto. And Flak’s just rejoining me. I’ll update her and we’ll wait for you before going any further.’
The trio came together and Flaco was given the floor.
‘Everything Dilip Padar said about his sister checks out.’ The natural gravity of Flaco’s mien perfectly matched the moment. ‘Here’s a photo of her.’ She held out her phone and the image of a self-assured, beautiful young woman smiled back at them. It was a look of infinite promise and Darac let the moment make its mark before he went on. ‘We all observed the damage to the back of the victim’s skull but I saw more of her face after you left the tent. If she does prove to be our Samira here, I wouldn’t be at all surprised.’ A new thought emerged from the crossfire of possibilities ricocheting around in his head. ‘When Dilip received Eric’s call, he presumably didn’t believe his story right away, did he?’
‘We didn’t ask him that directly,’ Bonbon said. ‘But once he’d rung Samira’s mobile and got no response, he implied that he did give credence to the story, more or less. Flak?’
‘That’s my impression, too.’
Darac’s brows lowered. ‘He didn’t have to be convinced? Odd, isn’t it? I would take a hell of a lot of convincing if a member of the public called me out of the blue with such news.’
‘Now you say it, I suppose it is.’ Bonbon produced a bag of wrapped sweets from his pocket. ‘Goo-goo Jube, either of you? No? We’ll need to question Dilip properly in time, obviously, but considering how he was, we weren’t in full-on probing mode.’
‘Yes, I see that. Of course, it could all have been an act and the easy-to-convince Dilip might himself be the murderer, one who spent the intervening time after he climbed into the site eradicating clues from his work the night before.’
‘Not impossible, chief.’
‘And I’ll answer my own question, throwing in a couple of what ifs? for good measure. You are inclined to believe things that people you know well tell you. What if Dilip and Eric are not the strangers we assume them to be? Secondly, what if Samira was not murdered out of the blue? Perhaps her life had been threatened before.’ Darac’s next question scarcely needed asking – harvesting potentially useful contact details was second nature to police detectives working on a murder case. ‘You offered to try Samira’s number yourselves?’
‘Yes, and got voicemail.’
‘And you also offered to send someone off to her address?’
‘On that, the first info to come in on Samira stated she has been resident in the country since last July and the address given was Dilip’s own apartment in the Mimosas building on Avenue Primerose.’
‘That changes things.’
‘Yes, for a moment, we were excited.’
‘But?’
‘But Dilip says that was a temporary arrangement until she got settled in and she moved out within a couple of weeks. He wouldn’t divulge where to, interestingly. We wondered if he planned on going there himself once we thought it safe to release him.’
‘If he does, we’ll send someone with him. Or depending on developments, tail him.’
‘I’ve approached the student records office for Samira’s current address. No one in the office at the moment but it shouldn’t be long.’
‘Good. As we have Samira’s number, I’m going to ask someone in IT to chase up her call and text log. Bonbon?’
‘Why not ask Erica, herself?’
‘I thought she and Serge were on leave?’
‘Back today, chief. They are rostered.’
‘Are they?’ Darac could have kicked himself – it was part of his remit to be on top of such routine matters. ‘With one thing and another, I missed it. But anyway, one of us is awake. Well done, Bonbon.’
‘Anything else we can help you with today? Your call is important to us.’
‘Yes – try Samira’s number again, Flak.’
‘I’ll share it to the case file as well.’ She tapped it in. ‘Should have done that as soon as I was out of Dilip’s sight. Sorry.’
‘A few minutes delay on making a note when you’re flying around? Don’t be sorry.’
Giving the slightest of smiles, she nodded and listened. ‘No, it’s going to voicemail again.’
‘If it’s Samira’s own voice, put it on speaker, will you?’
‘It’s the provider’s generic message.’
‘Don’t worry, then.’ He tapped a number on his own phone. ‘Morning, Erica.’
‘Morning to you, Paul. I sense I’ve been missed. My bottom has literally just hit my seat here in the lab.’
‘Of course you’ve been missed. Welcome back. Hope you and Serge both had a lovely time in…’ He gave Bonbon an enquiring look.
‘Their apartment.’
‘… in… instead of going off somewhere.’
‘Nicely finessed but the words “cut” and “chase” come to mind?’
Darac filled her in on what they needed and, concluding with the thought that if they were able to find Samira’s phone itself, Erica would be able to work real miracles, he rang off just as Bonbon’s mobile rang. The caller’s number looked unfamiliar.
‘Lieutenant Busquet?’
‘Speaking.’ He answered the others’ enquiring looks with an uncomprehending shrug.
‘It’s Monique Azzani here. You rang me earlier?’
‘Oh yes, yes.’
‘I have Coach Laborde. Putting you through.’
A click and the line muted momentarily.
‘Just delay a fraction on the news,’ Darac said, hurriedly. ‘It’ll give us a steer on his mood.’
‘Good idea. Unless Eric Cauvin or Dilip Padar called him, he shouldn’t be aware of anything sinister, should he? Ah, Monsieur Laborde. Thanks for ringing back.’
Negotiating an initial exchange of pleasantries partly on sporting matters may not have been the severest test, but if Laborde knew anything of the grim events at the Stade Walter Vallain, he gave no sign of it.
‘Before we continue, may I just say what big fans of your coaching methods we all are here at the Caserne?’
Big nod from Darac.
‘You are? Well, that’s really gratifying.’
Laborde’s wheels well and truly oiled, he agreed without demur to Bonbon’s request for a list of all those who had attended the previous evening’s training session.
‘Hold a moment, Lieutenant Busquet, would you? Monique has your number so I’ll ask her to text you a copy immediately because if I don’t, the moment we finish, I’ll be on to the next thing and forget.’ The line went dead and it was presumably done. ‘There. Now, why exactly are you calling?’
Giving no specifics as to the identity or gender of the victim, Bonbon gently broke the news.
THIRTY-TWO
Inès wiped a tear from her cheek and blew her fiancée a kiss. ‘This is so much better than a phone call, isn’t it?’ she said, in English. ‘Despite the occasional interruption by the… what do you call them? Grumbles?’
‘Gremlins,’ Sue said.
‘Gremlins – yes. Don’t usually have problems with the signal out here in the garden.’
‘The real thing is so much better still, Innie. Can’t wait for Friday. Bring Zoë with you, if you like. Sounds as if she could use a break, the poor woman. Just for a day or two. And then I want you all to myself.’
Inès wiped her eyes once more. ‘Maman was so sweet about us, Sue.’ She gave a sad little laugh. ‘Already looking forward to the wedding. Impressive, considering her own marriage has just gone into the toilet.’
‘Tell me she is going to fully break with him. Formally, I mean.’
‘Divorce?’
‘Yes, divorce. Citing the fact that he is a complete and utter shit.’
‘I can almost see your…What is it you say rises when you get mad?’
‘Hackles. And yes, mine are well and truly up. Is she going to?’
‘Hackles… I can’t tell you how un-French that sounds.’
‘You’re stalling. Divorce, Innie.’
Inès produced a very un-English pout while she thought about it. ‘I’m not sure but if I change the subject quickly, you’ll know she’s joined me out here.’
‘Why the need for that? I don’t suppose she would relish the three of us discussing the matter on screen but there’s nothing clandestine going on now, is there? Not one cat left in the bag. They’re all out in the open.’
‘That’s true, I suppose. Not used to it. Yes, I think she will go for a formal split with him. Although the context is different, she’s good at striking out by herself. In fact, she’s just contributed a chapter to a book that’s coming out next year on the subject.’
‘Not to do with sprockets again, is it?’
‘Sockets, it was. No – this is only tangentially about IT.’ Inès summarised the book’s raison d’être. ‘It’s entitled Boss Women. How good is that?’
‘It sounds great.’
‘Went off to the publisher just last night. You heard it here first, Sue.’
‘Oh, I came across something yesterday, too. With one thing and another, I hadn’t really looked at the latest flyer from the jazz club but guess what?’ She held it up ‘See who’s going to be playing at The Vault shortly?’ She adjusted the focus. ‘The Didier Musso Quintet. They’re from Nice!’
‘Musso? That’s a local name, alright. But quintet? There’s… nine of them in the photo. I hope they can play better than they can count.’
‘Just their joke, by the look of it. But can they play? Caught a couple of things online. Put it this way – I was wearing socks when I started. Two women in the band as well, notice, and neither’s a singer. Anyway, May 1st they’re playing. I’ve checked the diary – zilch at the mo. Why not come along?’
‘Because however brilliant they are, I’d be bored… hard?’
‘Stiff.’
‘Stiff – yes.’
‘Innie, Innie, Innie.’ Sue shook her head. ‘Why do I love you?’
For the first time in hours, Inès felt warm inside. ‘Let me count the ways?’ she said.
