This Night’s Foul Work

XXVIII

THREE CANE ARMCHAIRS AND A SMALL WOODEN TABLE ARRANGED IN A corner formed the reception area of the hotel. Danglard put down the glasses, lit the two candles on a brass candlestick and opened the bottle.

‘Just a token amount for me,’ said Adamsberg, pulling away his glass.

‘It’s only cider.’

Danglard poured himself a realistic helping and sat down facing the commissaire.

‘Sit on this side of me, Danglard,’ said Adamsberg, pointing to the left-hand chair. ‘And keep your voice down. Veyrenc doesn’t need to hear this from the room upstairs. Which ones have died?’

‘Fernand Gascaud and Georges Tressin.’

‘The little so-and-so and Big Georges,’ Adamsberg commented to himself, pulling at his cheek. ‘So when was this?’

‘Seven years ago and three years ago. Gascaud drowned in the swimming pool of a luxury hotel near Antibes. Tressin hadn’t done so well in the world. He lived in a shack. His Calor gas bottle exploded, set the whole place on fire.’

Adamsberg pulled his feet up on to the seat of the chair and put his arms round his knees.

‘Why did you say: “That leaves three”?’

‘Just counting.’

‘Danglard, were you seriously thinking that Veyrenc got rid of little Fernand and Big Georges?’

‘I’m merely pointing out that if there were another three unfortunate accidents, the Caldhez gang would have ceased to exist.’

‘Two accidental deaths are quite possible, aren’t they?’

‘You don’t believe that about Elisabeth and Pascaline. So why would you believe it about those other ones?’

‘In the case of the two women, there’s a ghost been seen prowling round, and there are a lot of common elements. Both from the same area, both religious, both virgins, both desecrated after death.’

‘And in the case of Fernand and Georges, both from the same village, both in the same boyhood gang, both cases of sudden death.’

‘What about the other two, Roland and Pierrot?’

‘Roland Seyre runs a hardware shop in Pau, Pierre Ancenot is a gamekeeper. The four of them were regularly in touch with each other.’

‘It was a very close-knit gang.’

‘So Roland and Pierre presumably know that both Fernand and Georges have come to tragic ends. They might smell a rat, if they’ve got any intelligence.’

‘Intelligence wasn’t their strong point.’

‘In that case, they ought to be warned. To be on their guard.’

‘That would be slandering Veyrenc without any proof, Danglard.’

‘Or else risking the lives of the other two without lifting a finger. When the next one’s killed by a stray bullet during a hunting expedition, or has a rock fall on his head, you might regret not having slandered him a bit earlier.’

‘Why are you so sure of yourself, capitaine?’

‘The New Recruit didn’t come here for nothing.’

‘Obviously.’

‘He came for you.’

‘Yes.’

‘We’re agreed, then. It was you that asked me to find out about these characters – you were the first to suspect Veyrenc.’

‘Suspect him of what, Danglard?’

‘Of being after your hide.’

‘Or perhaps of coming to check something out?’

‘What would that be?’

‘The identity of the fifth boy.’

‘The one you’re taking care of personally.’

‘Exactly.’

Adamsberg interrupted himself and held out his glass.

‘Another symbolic dash,’ he said.

‘Of course,’ said Danglard, pouring in a couple of centimetres.

‘The fifth boy was older than the others. He didn’t take part in the attack. During the fight he was several metres away, under the walnut tree, seemed to be the leader, giving orders. The one who tells people what to do without getting his hands dirty, get the idea?’

‘Yes.’

‘From where he was, on the ground, little Veyrenc couldn’t see his face clearly.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because Veyrenc was able to name four of the attackers, but not the fifth. He suspected someone but he wasn’t sure. The others got four years of approved school, but the fifth got away.’

‘And you think Veyrenc has just come along to find out for sure. To see if you knew him.’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘No. When you asked me to check the names, you were suspicious about something. What’s made you change your mind?’

Adamsberg didn’t reply, just dipped a lump of sugar the dregs of his cider.

‘His charm?’ asked Danglard acidly. ‘His verse? It’s quite easy to make up verses.’

‘It’s not that easy. Seems quite good to me.’

‘Not to me.’

‘I was talking about the cider. You’re touchy, capitaine. Touchy and jealous,’ said Adamsberg wearily, crushing his sugar into the bottom of the glass with his finger.

‘Oh, for God’s sake. What made you change your mind?’ said Danglard, losing patience.

‘Keep your voice down. When Noël insulted him in the bar, Veyrenc wanted to react, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even throw a punch, which would have been the easiest thing to do in the circumstances.’

‘So what? He was in shock. You saw his face, he went white as a sheet.’

‘Yes, because it brought back all the insults he’d had to put up with as a child, and later when he was a young man. Veyrenc didn’t only have peculiar hair, he also used to limp because of the horse that had trampled him. He was scared of his shadow after that attack in the meadow.’

‘I thought it was in the vineyard.’

‘No, he mixed up two separate occasions when he was knocked unconscious.’

‘Well that proves he’s crazy,’ concluded Danglard. ‘A man who speaks in twelve-syllable alexandrines has got to be crazy anyway.’

‘You’re not usually so intolerant, capitaine.’

‘You think it’s normal, to speak in verse like he does?’

‘It’s not his fault. It runs in the family.’

Adamsberg wiped up the melted sugar from the cider with a finger.

‘Think, Danglard. Why didn’t Veyrenc punch Noël? He’s quite big enough to have knocked him down.’

‘Because he’s new round here, because he didn’t know how to respond, because the table was between them.’

‘Because he’s mild by nature. He’s never used his fists. It doesn’t interest him. He lets other people do that. He hasn’t killed anyone.’

‘So Veyrenc just came to find out the name of the fifth boy?’

‘Yes, I think so. And to let the fifth boy know that he knows.’

‘I’m not sure you’re right.’

‘Me neither. Let’s say that’s what I hope.’

‘What about the other two? We don’t warn them, then?’

‘Not for the moment.’

‘And what about number five?’

‘I would say that number five’s big enough to look after himself.’

Danlgard got lethargically to his feet. His anger with first Brézillon, then Devalon, then Veyrenc, and the horrors of another open grave, plus an excess of alcohol, had left him feeling weak.

‘And you know number five, do you?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Adamsberg putting his finger back in the empty glass.

‘It was you.’

‘Yes, capitaine.’

Danglard nodded and said goodnight. Sometimes one can be sure of something but still find it unbearable when it’s confirmed. Adamsberg waited five minutes after Danglard had left. Then he put his glass on the bar and climbed the stairs himself. He stopped at Veyrenc’s bedroom door and knocked. The lieutenant was on his bed, reading a book.

‘I’ve got some sad news for you, lieutenant.’

Veyrenc looked up, expectantly.

‘I’m listening.’

‘Fernand the little chap, and Big Georges – remember them?’

Veyrenc shut his eyes rapidly.

‘Well, they’re both dead.’

The lieutenant nodded a brief acknowledgement but did not speak.

‘You going to ask me how they died?’

‘How did they die?’

‘Fernand drowned in a swimming pool and Georges was burnt alive in his shack.’

‘Accidents, then.’

‘Fate caught up with them, in a manner of speaking. A bit like in Racine, don’t you think?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Goodnight, lieutenant.’

Adamsberg closed the door and stood outside in the corridor. He had to wait almost ten minutes before he heard Veyrenc’s melodious voice.

‘Cruelty damns sinners to the dark of the grave.

Was it vengeance divine or the burden they bore

That turned these young villains to shadows on the shore?’

Adamsberg plunged his fists into his pockets and tiptoed away. He had tried to appear cool to calm Danglard. But Veyrenc’s words were far from reassuring. Cruelty, vengeance, war, treason and death – that’s Racine for you.