This Night’s Foul Work

XLI

THREE DOORS AWAY FROM VEYRENC, IN ROOM 435, ROLAND AND PIERROT were bargaining aggressively with the commissaire. Veyrenc had dragged himself painfully, step by step, to the doorway and, sweating with pain, strained his ears to pick up snatches of their conversation.

‘You’re bluffing,’ said Roland.

‘You ought to be thanking me for offering you a way out. Otherwise you’re looking at ten years minimum for you, and three for Pierrot. Shooting at a policeman’s a serious offence – they won’t show you any mercy.’

‘Carrot Top was out to kill us,’ said Pierrot. ‘It was legitimate self-defence.’

‘Anticipated self-defence,’ said Adamsberg. ‘And where’s your proof, Pierrot?’

‘Don’t listen to him, Pierrot,’ said Roland. ‘Carrot Top’s going to jail for murdering the others, plus intent to murder us, and we’ll get off with compensation, plenty of cash.’

‘No, that’s not what’s going to happen,’ said Adamsberg. ‘You’re going to make yourselves scarce, and you’re going to keep your mouths shut.’

‘Why?’ asked Pierrot, distrustfully. ‘What’s the catch, if you get us out of here? I smell a bloody great rat.’

‘Course you do. But the rat’s my business. You disappear, a long way off, and we hear no more from you, that’s all I’m asking.’

‘What’s the catch?’ Pierrot repeated.

‘I’ll tell you what the catch is. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll make public the name of the guy who paid you off all those years ago. And I don’t think he’ll much appreciate the publicity, thirty-four years on.’

‘What do you mean, paid us off?’ asked Pierrot, in genuine surprise.

‘Ask Roland,’ said Adamsberg.

‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Roland. ‘He’s a fucking tosser, always was.’

‘The deputy mayor in those days, remember him? In charge of planning and also a wine-grower. You know who I mean, Pierrot. And now he’s boss of a big building firm, isn’t he? He paid the gang a big advance to beat up the Veyrenc kid. With the rest to come after you got out of the reformatory. That’s why Roland’s got a chain of hardware stores, and that’s why Fernand was swanning about in the South of France.’

‘What money? I didn’t get any!’ yelled Pierrot.

‘No, neither did Big Georges. Roland and Fernand pocketed the lot.’

‘You bastard,’ hissed Pierrot.

‘Shut up, motherfucker,’ growled Roland.

‘Say it isn’t true, then,’ Pierrot demanded.

‘He can’t,’ said Adamsberg. ‘Because it is true. The deputy mayor was after all the vines of the Veyrenc de Bilhc appellation. He wanted to force a sale and threatened Veyrenc’s father if he wouldn’t play ball. But Veyrenc Senior hung on. So our man organised a gang attack on the little kid, knowing that the father would give in out of fear.’

‘I don’t have to listen to this bullshit,’ said Roland. ‘You can’t know all that stuff.’

‘I wouldn’t normally, no. Because you’d sworn secrecy to that bastard in the town hall. Only everyone always tells one person their secret, Roland, so you told your brother. Who told his girlfriend. Who told her cousin. Who told her best friend. Who told her boyfriend. Who happened to be my brother.’

‘Roland, you fucking bastard,’ said Pierrot from his bed.

‘I couldn’t put it better myself,’ said Adamsberg. ‘So now do you understand that if you don’t do as I say, and if you touch a hair of Veyrenc’s head, brown or ginger, I’ll publicise the name of your contact in the town hall. Who will have ways of taking care of you. So what’s your decision?’

‘We’ll go,’ muttered Roland.

‘Good. And you’d better not damage the looks of the two cops on duty, because they know the score. You can make it look convincing, but don’t hurt them.’

In the corridor, Veyrenc shrank back inside his door. He managed to reach his bed just before Adamsberg came out of Room 435. Veyrenc lay back on the bed, exhausted. He had never known exactly why his father had agreed to sell the vineyard in the end.