The Nostradamus prophecies

50

Captain Joris Calque did not approve of television at breakfast. In fact he didn’t approve of television per se. But the patronne of the chambre d’hote in which he and Macron now found themselves appeared to think it was what was expected. She even stood behind them at the table, commenting on all the local news.

‘I suppose, being policemen, that you are always on the lookout for new crimes?’

Macron inconspicuously raised his eyes to Heaven. Calque concentrated even more intently on his banana fritters with apple mousse.

‘Nothing is sacred any more. Not even the Church.’

Calque realised that he would have to say something, or be considered rude. ‘What? Has someone stolen a church?’

‘No, Monsieur. Far worse than that.’

‘Good God!’

Macron nearly achieved the nose trick with his scrambled egg. He covered it up with a coughing fit, which necessitated Madame fussing around him for a couple of minutes, dispensing coffee and hearty slaps on the back.

‘No. Not a church, Inspector.’

‘Captain.’

‘Captain. As I said. Something far worse than that. The Virgin herself.’

‘Someone stole the Virgin?’

‘No. There was heavenly intervention. The thieves were stopped in their tracks and punished. They must have been after the jewels in her and the baby Jesus’s crown. Nothing is sacred any more, Inspector. Nothing.’

‘And what Virgin was this, Madame?’

‘But it’s just been on the television.’

‘I was eating, Madame. One cannot eat and look at the same time. It is unhealthy.’

‘It was the Virgin at Rocamadour, Inspector. The Black Madonna herself.’

‘And when did this attempted theft occur?’

‘Last night. After they had locked the Sanctuary. They even used a pistol. Fortunately the gardien wrestled it from one of the men – like Jacob wrestling with the angel. And then the Virgin made her miraculous intervention and drove the robbers off.’

‘Her miraculous intervention?’ Macron had stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth. ‘Against a pistol? At Rocamadour? But, Captain…’

Calque glanced meaningfully across the table at him. ‘You are right, Madame. Nothing is sacred any more. Nothing.’