Knock 'Em Dead, page 17
‘Obviously. You say Mademoiselle Rosay rang you to arrange this evening’s meeting.’
‘Indeed.’
‘When did she do that? About 11.15, this morning?’
‘No. It was in the afternoon.’
Playing up his exasperation, Darac exhaled deeply.
‘It would be helpful to know when exactly, monsieur?’ Perand said, pleasantly.
‘It would be about 4 o’clock.’
Perand raised an eyebrow. ‘On your mobile?’ He held out his hand. ‘By any chance?’
Montand gave a quick shake of the head. ‘She rang my desk phone at the Mairie. I was able to intercept the call from my office phone at the factory.’
‘Get on to Télécom about that, Perand.’ Darac didn’t give him time to react. ‘Now!’
‘Yes, Captain.’ Perand essayed a conspiratorial look with Montand as he got to his feet. ‘Just need to put in that request, monsieur. It would speed things up if you let me have both those numbers?’
‘Ri-ight.’ He haltingly gave them. ‘I said 4 o’clock. It was about then. Give or take half an hour, perhaps.’
‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Take your time,’ Darac said.
As Perand left the room, Montand’s anxiety level visibly increased. Maintaining a deafening silence, Darac kept his bad cop mask firmly in place. If Montand had something to hide, and awful possibilities began to take root in his imagination, so much the better. Go on, blurt it out, man. Get it off your chest.
It was clear that Ambroise Paillaud’s money was at the heart of this case; money that had been earmarked for the dismal mayor of the dismal village of La Crague-du-Var. And then? At Centre Sicotte, Caroline had said that her meeting with Paillaud at La Poche was a simple farewell. No transaction had taken place. Darac began to bounce questions around in his head as if trading four-bar phrases with the Quintet. What if Paillaud had produced a new will that, in effect, disinherited Montand? What if informing him of this was the purpose of Caroline’s later meeting with him?
Darac launched further rafts of questions until he sensed he was straying too far downstream. It wasn’t a question of whether an arrogant but fundamentally timorous type like Montand could commit a reckless, brutal murder for gain; nor of whether such a man could keep his head while under all sorts of pressure. One of the first lessons Darac had learned from his mentor Agnès Dantier was that given appropriate circumstances, anyone was capable of these things. Darac’s concern was the timing. As it stood, it was ridiculously tight and if Montand had carried out the murder, what had he done with the new will? Secretion or destruction were the only options but...’ His mobile rang. Ormans’s number.
‘We’ve got the footprint cast up and running, as it were. A word of caution. It will help us determine who didn’t leave the print and to a degree, that’s useful. Whether it could identify who definitely did leave it, is by no means certain.’
The news was disappointing but as if the caller were relaying info that incriminated Montand, Darac stared at him and smiled slightly. ‘It does? That’s very interesting. Thank you.’ Darac held the look as he rang off. Saying nothing, he returned privately to the question of what Montand might have done with the putative new will. If he had taken it, he wouldn’t have secreted it in the house – how could he retrieve it later? Immediately outside the house presented problems, too. Nevertheless, Darac would ask Ormans to get a team on it. But Montand might have hidden the will under his clothing. Or perhaps folded it into one of his shoes; shoes which appeared to be about size 42 and which were slightly soiled. In order to test this, Darac would have to search the man. In order to do that, he would have to arrest him. In order to do that, he would need more than he had so far. But then he realised that Montand himself had given him the way forward and with any luck, he might be able to follow it for some distance.
‘You volunteered to show the contents of your pockets earlier. Why?’
‘Why?’ Montand was still clearly unnerved. ‘Because only hours earlier, although Guy had himself committed no crime, you had given him a very hard time.’ He quickly raised a hand. ‘Yes, I understand that he can be maddeningly obstinate and unco-operative. He has been that way with me on many occasions. I wished to demonstrate to your officers that I was being especially co-operative, and in so doing, of course, prove that I had absolutely nothing to hide.’
‘Commendable.’
‘I’m glad you realise that. Might I ask how much longer—’
‘As long as it takes.’ He stared at Montand, cold-eyed. ‘If you really have nothing to hide, you can help yourself by handing me your shoes.’
‘What?’ He blanched. ‘Why?’
‘Your shoes.’ Darac got quickly to his feet. ‘I’ll assist you.’
‘No, no. I’ll... do it.’
Darac called in a uniform and stood over Montand as he unlaced his shoes and took them off. No concealed document emerged. ‘Give them to Ormans, Officer.’
‘Yes, Captain.’
Montand watched his shoes being taken away as if they were themselves under arrest.
‘Stand up, monsieur.’
Montand looked uneasy but seemed to feel it best to comply. ‘What—’
‘I’m going to pat you down. You have no objection, presumably.’
‘We-ell...’
At the end of it, Darac hadn’t detected a hint of anything concealed but then another, far more likely hiding place occurred to him. With a little ingenuity, it was accessible and, for once he wouldn’t have to call on his lock picks.
‘You may sit.’ He made a moue. ‘Oh, what now?’ As if his mobile had buzzed in his pocket, Darac feigned taking a call. Naturally, he was irritated at the interruption. ‘No, stay put, you idiot.’ He ended the call. ‘Some of our people can’t get off the premises, Montand. We need to move your car.’ He stood. ‘The keys?’
The request further perturbed Montand.
‘Did you hear me?’
‘Yes, yes. I’d rather move it myself, if you don’t mind. It’s brand new and—’
‘Monsieur, with all your official experience, I’m sure you understand that that is not permissible.’
‘Indeed, I do realise that but...’
‘The keys, then.’
He reluctantly handed them over as the door opened and Perand loped into the room.
‘About time,’ Darac said.
‘Excuse the wait. I’m afraid Télécom won’t be able to corroborate your story, monsieur, until...’ He gave Montand a rueful smile. ‘Let’s just say a while.’
It would be tomorrow, Darac knew. But he enjoyed both Perand’s use of the smile and “corroborate”. The young man was continuing to turn in a winning performance. ‘I’ll only be a moment, Perand. Don’t go on without me. Alright?’
‘Understood, Captain.’
Outside, Darac wasted no time in getting to work. The Renault’s boot yielded nothing. Nor did the door pockets or the seat curtain bags. He looked under the bonnet. Another blank. Only the glove compartment remained. He opened it. There were papers. He went through them. Nothing. After taking a further call from Frènes, Darac joined Ormans by the patio doors. The footprint test had been completed.
‘Well, R.O.?’
‘It’s more or less the scenario I outlined just now, I’m afraid.’ He handed over the shoes. ‘I wouldn’t rule out Montand as the killer on the basis of this but it in no way supports it.’
‘I’m drawing blanks, myself. I’ll just give Perand a moment or two more. I ordered him not to say a word in my absence. I’m hoping he took no notice.’
Darac pretended not to have caught the sudden silence as he strode into the dining room. ‘Your car’s back where it was,’ he said, handing over the keys and shoes. ‘No scratches.’
‘I should hope not.’ Montand examined the shoes. ‘And what did you want with these?’
While he bent to put them on, a little eyebrow semaphore between Darac and Perand established there had been no breakthroughs. ‘Just routine, monsieur. Let us continue. Would you say Mademoiselle Rosay was a popular member of the community?’
Doubly re-empowered, Montand sought Perand’s eye. ‘No apology. No explanation. No...’
‘Better answer the question, monsieur.’
‘Very well. I would say... she was respected. But one doesn’t live in a vacuum. Her attacker could have come from anywhere.’ He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Senegal or Mali, perhaps.’
‘Why there?’
Once again, Montand seemed to realise he’d made a poor judgement call. ‘I didn’t mean anything by that. They were just the first faraway places that came to mind.’
‘Of course. Can you think of anyone who might have had a motive for murdering the mademoiselle?’
‘No one.’ Suddenly aware that he was picking at his shirt, Montand managed a smile and let go. The cotton crocodile looked none the worse for its ordeal. ‘It’s clear what happened, though, isn’t it? She disturbed a burglar in the act. Hence the devastation in the office.’
It was time to test the true efficacy of Perand’s play-acting. ‘Keep the monsieur company for another moment, will you? You may talk.’
‘Yes, Captain.’
Montand’s relief at Darac’s departure was obvious but so was his concern that he was once more being abandoned. ‘Where are you going? And for how long?’
‘Call of nature. We’ll see how long.’
‘Oh. Please go ahead.’
‘Thank you so much. Let’s just hope it’s a Montand. Carry on, Perand.’
A Montand or not, the toilet was a pretext. In Caroline’s office, the bad news was that Granot still hadn’t shown up; the good, that Bonbon had spirited up a flask of coffee from somewhere. He handed Darac a cup. ‘One of the uniforms brought this up from the village. It’s not bad. I take it all back about La Crague. Montand?’
‘Nervous. Defensive.’
‘Guilty?’
‘Some things point to it but his account of what he did once he’d arrived at 7 o’clock gels with what they’re saying next door, according to Flak. I’m going to talk to them myself in a moment. In the meantime, I’m leaving him with Better Cop Perand. He may just let something slip.’ Darac drained the coffee. ‘Not bad at all. Anything new in here?’
‘Granot’s five minutes away, he says, and Flak just called. She’ll be back from Jodie Foucault’s place any second.’
‘I’ll wait for her outside.’
As he crossed in front of the villa, Flaco’s car turned into the drive, its headlights sweeping through the murk in a wide arc. The pair wasted no time in updating one another.
‘And there’s something else, Captain.’ She relayed Jodie’s account of the confrontation between Zep and Montand in the surgery car park. ‘I only talked to Montand briefly so it’s not surprising it didn’t come up. But I questioned Zep fully and he didn’t say anything about it, either.’
‘Nor has Montand to me but perhaps it seemed irrelevant. I’ll get Zep alone and ask him about it directly.’
‘Jodie and Caroline. They weren’t just friends. They were lovers.’
Darac nodded – he’d guessed as much.
‘During the massage, Jodie made a point of telling Caroline about the incident with Zep and Montand and it would have been natural for Caroline to mention she was seeing Montand in the office later. She didn’t and Jodie was surprised, even a bit upset about it. Why didn’t Caroline share that with her?’
‘Preserving professional confidentiality?’
‘No. I can’t see that.’
‘OK. So there are...’ Darac’s gaze settled on the glistening gravel. ‘Three, no four possibilities: despite the caring and sharing, Caroline deliberately concealed the fact that she was meeting Montand for reasons of her own; the appointment was made after Jodie had left which, considering the timing, seems improbable and contradicts Montand’s claim it was made at about 4 o’clock; it was never made at all and Montand was lying about it.’ He looked up. ‘Or Jodie herself is lying.’
‘I doubt that very much.’
‘Erica is going to examine Caroline’s mobile. And we’ve asked Télécom for a breakdown of both Caroline’s and Montand’s landline calls. The sooner we get all that back, the better.’
Flaco made a note. ‘I’ll chase Télé, if necessary.’
‘What about Jodie’s alibi? Did this Madame Valentin corroborate her story?’
‘To the letter, Captain. If Kerthus follows suit about the time Caroline waved her goodbye, and I believe he will, it means Jodie didn’t have time to kill Caroline. I’m certain she didn’t, anyway.’
‘Certain?’
‘As certain as... virtually certain. For one thing, I checked her watch against mine. It’s possible she’d altered it subsequently but they tallied almost exactly and mine is right to the second.’
As mentor to Flaco and Perand, Darac often played devil’s advocate – one of many techniques he’d learned from his own mentor, Agnès. A hint of a smile broadened into something fuller.
‘So you verified Jodie’s watch is more or less spot-on. And that suggests she was right about the times. But Jodie being in synch with you isn’t the alibi. It’s her being in synch with Kerthus and Madame Valentin that counts. Did you check their watches, also?’
Flaco’s pout morphed into a scowl. ‘No.’
‘Look, let’s just say that the odds greatly favour Jodie’s innocence.’
‘Right.’
‘OK, let’s go see Zep and Kerthus. There are a few things to check, including Kerthus’s watch.’
‘She’s a diabetic, by the way. Injects three times a day. No word of complaint about it.’
‘A tough girl, isn’t she? Tough but sweet.’
‘Yes,’ Flaco said. ‘She is.’
‘Apologies for having... kept you both waiting,’ Darac said, taken aback by his first sight of Zep. The man’s restless eyes, spiky red hair and deeply scored skin had disconcerting echoes of something he couldn’t place. ‘I just need to make sure I’ve got everything straight.’ And then he had it. Zep bore a strong resemblance to the artist Van Gogh; more exactly, a Van Gogh self-portrait. One of the more troubled examples.
‘Who was it who screamed?’
Darac ignored Kerthus. ‘You’ve already given your separate statements but I just need to make sure I’ve got it. What time did you arrive, Doctor?’
‘I didn’t notice exactly. But it took me forty-two eighteen from leaving home. The rain slowed me.’
‘Nearly three-quarters of an hour?’ Perhaps in sympathy with Zep’s restless eyes, Darac felt his eyelids flutter slightly. He blinked to clear them. ‘But you live just down the road in the village, don’t you?’
‘Was it Daniela?’
Zep kept his eyes on Darac. ‘Just off Place Charles Montand but I went via Saint-Laurent, La Gaude and the La Crague road. I’m in training.’
Darac shared an almost imperceptible look with Flaco. ‘So you arrived riding down the hill and into Avenue Montand?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Did you see anyone in the vicinity?’
‘When I turned up the drive on my bike, I thought I passed someone moving in the bushes on the right.’
‘Did the someone have a face? Our sketch artist is used to turning even the scantiest of impressions into detailed likenesses. I could have her pay a call on you tomorrow.’
‘No need, Captain. I saw nothing so definite as a face.’
‘Tall? Short?’
‘Not a child, certainly. Beyond that, I really couldn’t say anything. In fact, when I dismounted, I turned and couldn’t see anyone. I wondered if it might have been a trick of the light.’
Two possible sightings of a figure among the shrubbery? Darac resolved to investigate further and he made a note to have R.O.’s team widen the check for footprints.
‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Darac turned to the fleshy and florid Kerthus. He sensed softly-softly was the way forward. ‘I gather you noticed what time Doctor Zep arrived, monsieur?’
The man essayed a put-out look. ‘I can speak now, can I?’
‘I wish you would.’
‘I’ve already told the young lady when it was.’
‘Well, now you can tell me.’
Noises off. Granot was pulling up in the drive. Kerthus’s head swivelled to the window. ‘Just one of my officers arriving,’ Darac said, curbing him. ‘Please continue.’
‘Oh. It was 6.50. And don’t upset me, I’ve got acute angina.’ He looked at Zep. ‘Haven’t I?’
‘Yes,’ the doctor said, staring into space.
‘I should never have dragged myself next door. They could have almost put me in my box afterwards, I’m telling you. But I had to see what had happened.’
‘Indeed?’
‘As a concerned citizen.’ Conspiratorial now. ‘I have heard, Captain, that at the station earlier, a certain person was standing quite near Ambroise Paillaud when he went phhhtt under the train. Very near, in fact.’
Zep stirred uncomfortably in his seat.
‘Guy Vaselle!’ Emphatically pursing his lips, Kerthus was a picture of righteous certitude. ‘He’s the man you want for that. There. I’ve said it.’
Zep’s restless eyes stilled. ‘Brice, honestly!’
‘Vaselle?’ Darac saw little point in updating Kerthus. ‘Thank you, we’ll look into it. Returning to Mademoiselle Rosay, just to see we’re on the same page, we need to synchronise our watches. Officer?’
‘It’s like a movie, this,’ Kerthus said, presenting his wrist to Flaco. ‘Was it Daniela?’
‘That’s fine.’ Resisting the temptation to smirk, she gave Darac a subtle nod.
‘Monsieur, Mademoiselle Rosay had an appointment with her masseuse, Jodie Foucault, this evening. Would you happen to have noticed when she left? It would be a great help to us if you did.’
