A Death in Time, page 27
As Samira had done, he grabbed the cushion and threw it as hard as he could into the corner of the room. It did no good. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the nearest breakable object – a half-empty bottle of Scotch – and hurled it at the wall. A table lamp went the same way. Then a nest of tables, all three at once slung at the TV screen. The doorbell rang. Knocks at the door. Shouts. Another crash. The doorbell ringing repeatedly now.
Outside, his two police escorts from the Stade shoulder-charged the door but the impact caused more damage to them than to it. And then, as if in answer to a prayer, a grave-faced giant of a man appeared, a well-wisher carrying a bouquet of flowers.
‘Help us!’
Without hesitation, Emil tossed the bouquet aside and flew at the door, crashing it open in one massive effort. In his rage, Dilip appeared not to see him or the two escorts limping gingerly in his wake. A burning smell and a hint of smoke rising thinly from a power outlet was enough to trigger an alarm and while the officers set about dealing with it, Emil stared hard into the eyes of the man he knew he was going to kill.
‘No,’ Dilip said, edging back towards the window. ‘No, I—’
Emil was on him before he knew, his weight and momentum sandbagging him to the floor and pinning him. Winded, his opponent could do nothing and it was easy for Emil to clamp his hands either side of the man’s head and lift it. He could have dashed his skull against the parquet there and then but as efforts went on behind him to prevent a full-scale fire, first there were truths he needed to impart.
FIFTY-ONE
Darac and Bonbon were on the point of heading off to question Gilles Laborde when Farid hurried into the office.
‘Breaking. Emil Arcot didn’t sit the exam. Went off to see Samira instead. Got all the way over to Bischoffsheim before learning what had happened to her. Meanwhile, Big Charlie and his two mates are twiddling their thumbs outside the exam room. By the time someone bothers to tell them Emil had bunked off the exam before it began, the young man’s already on his way to confront Dilip at his place. Of course, Charlie had no way of knowing that but to be on the safe side, he set off with the others to Les Mimosas just in case.’
‘There were a couple of guys watching Dilip already and Joinel were sending a couple more,’ Darac said. ‘And if it weren’t for the look on your face, I wouldn’t hate the way this story is shaping.’
‘I’ll cut to beyond the chase. Dilip has lost it by now, OK? Raving. And while his minders are busy putting out a fire he accidentally started, Charlie and the boys arrive hot on the heels of Emil who’s already pinning Dilip to the floor and explaining to him why he’s going to bash his brains out. Charlie dives on them, the other two join in and the three of them succeed in pulling Emil off. Outcome? A massively distraught Emil is charged with assault and is on his way to join Laborde in the cell block. Meanwhile, though physically only winded and bruised, Dilip is completely in pieces mentally and so is ambulanced off to L’Archet where, heavily sedated, he is put to bed under guard.’
Darac let out a long, contemplative breath. ‘O-K.’
Bonbon shook his head. ‘Well, you said you had breaking, Farid.’
‘Telling you both as soon as I could trumped updating the case file log but I’ll do that in a minute.’
‘Good work,’ Darac said. ‘Thanks, man.’
‘Charlie’s kicking himself he didn’t double check Emil was actually among the students sitting the exam. He just assumed the list of names posted on the room door was an accurate one.’
‘These things happen,’ Darac said. ‘The scene at Les Mimosas, though? I don’t know where to start. The fire?’
‘Extinguished. Very little damage.’
‘That’s something.’ He picked up the phone. ‘Charvet? We’ve got a young man named Emil Arcot coming in under arrest for assault within the next few minutes. He’s got a completely clean record up to now but for various reasons, he’s in a state. Get the duty doctor over to the cells to check him over, will you?’
‘Will do, Captain.’
‘That’s it.’
‘What do you reckon we do now, chief?’ Bonbon said. ‘Let those sleeping dogs lie while we question Laborde?’
‘It’s all we can do, I think.’ He turned to Farid. ‘Charlie or his chums pick up anything from Emil on the way here? That would help us with Laborde, I mean.’
‘Possibly but can I just say that I know your paths haven’t crossed with Charlie’s much but despite his earlier gaffe, he is someone to take notice of.’
‘Once he did know Emil was absent, he certainly showed good judgement in shooting off to Les Mimosas. And when he got there, he acted decisively which may well have saved the life of one of the protagonists and prevented the other spending the rest of his formative years behind bars. Charlie will do for me, don’t worry.’
‘Thanks, Captain.’
‘So Charlie does have something?’
‘Oh, sorry, yes.’ A serious young man with a ready smile, Farid could do sheepishness, too. ‘But it’s only a feeling. An intuition.’
Darac gave him a half-sympathetic, half-reproving look. ‘Mate…’
‘I know, Captain.’ He shrugged. ‘But there’s an important detail attached to it I definitely do need to tell you about.’
Picking up his interrogation notes on Laborde, Darac got to his feet. ‘We’ve got a minute.’
‘Emil is clearly guilty of assault and I suppose an attempted murder charge is not out of the question, either. I reported that Dilip was raving when Emil arrived, but something I haven’t mentioned yet is that he – Dilip – kept shouting over and over again, “I didn’t mean to do it.” ’
‘He said just “do it”? He didn’t say: “I didn’t mean to kill my sister” or “kill Samira” or “kill her”?’
‘No. Just “it”.’
Bonbon was already picturing a scene in court. ‘The prosecution would make a lot of that “it”.’
‘Agreed,’ Darac said, running a hand through his hair. ‘We will need to press him on what he meant, obviously. That intuitive feeling you mentioned Charlie had. Was it to do with this?’
‘Indirectly, and Captain if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t bother passing it on. But I owe the guy a lot and his intuitions about things are usually spot-on.’
‘Go for it.’
‘It’s just that having witnessed Emil’s capacity for explosive violence first-hand and heard Dilip’s loudly repeated protestations, Charlie still doesn’t believe either of them killed Samira.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s all.’
‘Farid, if our interrogation of Gilles Laborde goes the way we hope, you can be the one to tell Charlie his intuition was once again pitch perfect.’
The young man pressed his palms together in thanks.
‘Ready, Bonbon?’
‘Ready.’
They hadn’t taken a step before Darac’s mobile rang. ‘I hardly dare answer,’ he said, slipping it out of his pocket. ‘R.O – you’re on speaker to Bonbon and Farid as well. What have you got? And I warn you, it had better be good. It’s one excitement after another here at the moment.’
‘How about the identity of Julien Baille’s doorstep assassin – correction – would-be assassin? That fit the bill?’
Darac’s ears pricked up. ‘It certainly does.’ Identifying Dilip’s heavy was a significant breakthrough in itself and could link to the “honour” killing story Agnès was working on. And there was a second potential significance here. Were the ID to have originated in time-tagged CCTV footage from the Résidence, there should soon be similar footage of Julien’s arrival back from the Stade on the night Samira was murdered; footage that would further corroborate the account he had given of his movements. ‘Are we talking CCTV here, R.O?’
‘No. We are talking finding a print match on our database from the postcard the master hit-man so helpfully shoved through Julien’s door.’
Darac shared a doubly disappointed look with Bonbon. Quite apart from the wider picture, it was clear from Ormans’s tone that the heavy was far from being any sort of pro.
‘The man’s name?’
‘He is one Rajesh Anil Sharma. Comte de Falicon address. Second generation Niçois. Runs the family wholesale fruit and vegetable business which has occasionally failed to meet the rightfully exacting standards set by our nation’s taxation authorities. He has also failed to keep his fists to himself in a series of tawdry disputes over gambling. Hence his prints being on file.’
Already scrolling the database, Bonbon’s eyes were all a-twinkle as he displayed Sharma’s photo. ‘You wouldn’t bet against him in a competition to find the most lived-in face in France.’
Darac grinned. ‘Or most bashed-in. Funny, isn’t it, that all those scars give the impression that here’s a tough guy who can really handle himself, when it actually means he’s taken a good many pastings.’
‘Nice observation,’ Ormans said. ‘Anyway, that’s all I have for the moment. Fare well with Coach Laborde, gentlemen.’
‘Thanks, R.O.’
The call ended, Darac turned to Farid. ‘Sharma’s bang to rights on threatening to cause bodily injury, obviously. How are you fixed at the moment?’
‘Clear as far as interviewing goes. Want me to pay the man a visit?’
‘How can I put this? Yes.’
Farid grinned. ‘I’ll get right on it.’
‘Better take a couple of guys with you. Sharma may have the reflexes of a punch-drunk gorilla but he’s still a gorilla.’
‘With you all the way, Captain. I’ll just make a call. Won’t be a second.’
‘And Dilip Padar’s part in this?’ Bonbon said.
Darac drew down the corners of his mouth. ‘Considering the state he’s in, I think we’ll leave arresting him on suspicion of conspiracy for the time being.’
‘He may have charges of his own to bring in time. Assault charges against Julien we know definitely did happen.’
‘He may and it could provide grounds for the courts taking a more lenient approach with Sharma and with Dilip himself if it turns he was behind the threats made. But as Granot is fond of saying, that’s not for us to decide.’
Farid finished his call and took his leave.
‘OK, Bonbon. It’s take two for Head Coach Laborde. Ready?’
‘Ready.’
FIFTY-TWO
On the whole, Darac preferred questioning suspects in his office but the more formal setting of the interview room had its uses. Thus far, Gilles Laborde had refused to be intimidated, aggressive outbursts and tearful desolation following one on the other in a repeating sequence. At the moment, arms resolutely folded, jaw set firm, gaze hard and penetrating, Laborde was a picture of indignant invulnerability. But if his portrayal of an innocent victim of circumstance carried conviction, the evidence building up against him appeared to be propelling him towards a conviction of an altogether different kind. Sitting next to him, lawyer Sylvain Gremat was doing only a so-so job of hiding his dismay at the way things were going; his expression betrayed nothing so clearly as the thought that had the law permitted him to have read the case dossier beforehand, he would not have taken the brief.
‘Monsieur Laborde,’ Darac said, indicating the stack of printed-out emails and texts sitting in mute accusation between them. ‘I or my colleague Lieutenant Busquet here don’t need to read out any more of these… shall we just call them overheated messages, do we? We’ve made our point. I think.’
‘You’ve made the point that you’ve raided my phone for messages which were…’
‘Deleted?’
‘Private!’ He sank back in his chair. ‘Do as you like, I don’t care.’
‘Perhaps we should just recap where we’ve got to. You do not deny that you were madly in love with Mademoiselle Samira Padar.’
‘I reject the word “madly.” It suggests I had taken leave of my senses. Nothing could have been further from the truth. With her, I’d come to my senses, if anything.’
That’s sunk one potentially mitigating factor for Gremat, Darac thought to himself. ‘You were in complete control of your faculties throughout? I see.’
‘I was. At all times.’
Gremat opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it.
‘There was something you wished to say to your client, Monsieur?’ Bonbon asked.
‘No, no.’
‘Oh. I thought you were about to commend Monsieur Laborde for his honesty there. But just to remind you—’
‘Yes, thank you, Lieutenant. I do not need to be reminded of the relevant protocols.’
‘You’re a stats man, aren’t you, Monsieur Laborde. My colleague Lieutenant Busquet and I are more into visuals. We like to picture things. So to help us, I’d like to put a little demonstration together.’
Giving a running commentary on what he was doing for the benefit of the recording, Darac picked up the stack of messages and, locating the page markers dividing them, set out five pairs of piles on the desk. ‘These on my left are from you to Samira; on the right, she to you. Five piles, one for each of the past five days of message traffic between the two of you.’
If Laborde had any confidence in the demonstration, he gave every indication to the contrary. ‘It’s obvious that you’ve gathered together only those messages that puts me in a negative light.’
‘On the contrary. I grant we don’t have absolutely everything at the moment but it’s fairly complete.’
‘Just get on with it.’
Darac smiled. ‘Thank you. Going back to last Thursday, and I’m sure you’ll corroborate this as well, Monsieur Gremat, the piles are fairly even in height, aren’t they?’
Gremat shrugged assent.
‘You agree. Good. But as the days wear on, it’s evident from the increasing disparity in those heights that there’s a growing imbalance in the flow of messages between you and that would tend to suggest one thing, wouldn’t it? Samira’s interest in you had begun to dwindle well before the final training session at the Stade.’
‘It’s not as black and white as that. Not remotely.’
‘Then let’s return to the content itself. By Day Three, despite or perhaps because of the bombardment of written and spoken words to which you were subjecting her, she’s finding excuses not to see you – hoping, I imagine, that you would read between the lines. She’s perfectly polite about it, I must say. Like this one, for example.’ Darac showed the message to Laborde but nothing coming back, he handed it to Bonbon instead.
‘ “I’m afraid I can’t, Gilles,” ’ Bonbon read aloud. ‘ “I’m too busy now for a while.” ’ He replaced it on the pile. ‘Seems you’re just not a read-between-the-lines kind of guy, are you, Monsieur?’
‘Think what you like.’
Darac turned to Day Four. ‘Very threadbare from Samira now, isn’t it? You, on the other hand. Inverse ratio. Isn’t that the term? And your choice of words.’ He read out a couple of random phrases. ‘Complimenting her on her beauty is one thing, but some of this stuff goes way beyond that. We’re in sexual harassment territory here, Monsieur. Repeated references to the lusciousness of her body – especially to her… what was it?’ As Laborde stirred uncomfortably in his seat, Darac peered at the page. ‘Yes, to her yoni, in particular.’
Part of Darac and Bonbon’s strategy in questioning Laborde was occasionally to rile him into exposing the sheer explosiveness of his temper. It had paid off earlier and it appeared to be about to do so again.
‘And who do you think taught me that word?’ he shouted, the veins in his reddening head and neck throbbing almost cartoon-like as he jumped to his feet. ‘Who? Eh? It was Sam herself! She loved… Loved it!’ Tears now. ‘Loved me and loved it. Sex! Sex with me! We were lovers! Why can’t you understand that, you bastards!’
‘Sit down, Monsieur.’
The instruction was superfluous. Muttering further insults, Laborde dropped back onto his seat as if he’d been hit by a crossbow dart. Meanwhile, Gremat stared at the ceiling, finding a little solace there before glancing at his watch.
‘He’s certainly a hot one, your client, Monsieur Gremat,’ Bonbon said, pleasantly, but then as if a more concerning thought had occurred to him, he raised his tawny eyebrows. ‘Makes you think. Doesn’t it? You may answer. I asked you a direct question.’
None came.
‘We’ll take a few moments here.’ Darac exchanged a look with the guard and while Bonbon tagged off the session on the recorder, the officer went about replenishing Laborde’s supply of tissues and water. Meanwhile, Darac reorganised the messages into a single stack and brought a second evidence case to the party. As Laborde gathered himself and Gremat looked warily on, Darac produced print-outs of further messages, a whole new stack, and set them out in separate piles on the desk.
‘OK, I’m ready.’ But he waited until the man sitting opposite folded his arms and set his jaw before asking Bonbon to restart the recording.
‘Ready, Monsieur?’
‘Yes.’
‘Before the break, you asked us to understand that you and Samira were lovers and we fully appreciate that.’ He indicated the original stack of messages. ‘We also understand that while your obsessive need to possess her grew hideously out of control, her feelings towards you were evaporating very quickly and come the day of that final training session, they had disappeared entirely. You could not stand the stark truth that your relationship was over, could you? Indeed, you were in denial it was even happening. Your avalanche of messages shows that clearly.’
