Wash This Blood Clean from My Hand

XXXVII

LOUISSEIZE AND SANSCARTIER APPROACHED LALIBERTÉ’S OFFICE, without enthusiasm, to present their report.

‘The boss is about to go ape,’ said Louisseize in a whisper.

‘Yeah, he’s been cursing like crazy since this morning,’ said Sanscartier with a smile.

‘You think that’s funny?’

‘What’s really funny, Berthe, is that Adamsberg has given us all the slip. He’s rattled Laliberté’s cage all right.’

‘Well, laugh if you like, but we’re the ones who are going to pick up the tab.’

‘It’s not our fault, Berthe, we did our best. Want me to do the talking? He doesn’t scare me.’

Standing at his desk, Laliberté was completing the orders he was now issuing by telephone: photographs of the suspect to be circulated, roadblocks, police checks at all the airports.

‘Well?’ he yelled, hanging up. ‘Where did you look?’

‘We searched the whole park, superintendent,’ Sanscartier replied. ‘Nothing. He might have gone for a walk and had an accident. Met a bear?’

The superintendent wheeled round and turned on his sergeant. ‘Have you completely lost it, Sanscartier? Don’t you get it? He’s cut and run.’

‘We don’t know that for sure. He meant to come back. After all, he kept his promise about sending us all those files on the judge.’

Laliberté thumped the table with his fist.

‘His story’s a load of bullshit! Take a look at that,’ he said, holding out a sheet. ‘His precious judge died sixteen years ago! So put that in your pipe and smoke it.’

Sanscartier registered the judge’s date of death without showing surprise and nodded.

‘Maybe there’s a copycat at work,’ he suggested. ‘After all, the trident story seemed to fit.’

‘His story’s ancient history. We’ve been taken for a ride and that’s all there is to it.’

‘I didn’t think he was lying.’

‘If he wasn’t lying, it’s even worse. It means he’s completely cuckoo and living in a world of his own.’

‘He didn’t seem crazy to me.’

‘Don’t make me laugh, Sanscartier. His story was strictly for the birds.’

‘But he didn’t invent those other murders, did he?’

‘Look, sergeant,’ said Laliberté, motioning to Sanscartier to sit down, ‘you’ve been off message for a few days now, and my patience is running out. So listen hard, and get thinking. That night, Adamsberg was in a black mood, right? He’d had so much to drink he couldn’t see straight, right? When he was chucked out of L’Ecluse, he was all over the place, talking rubbish. The barman told us that, right?’

‘Right.’

‘And aggressive with it. “Come any nearer and I’ll spear ye.” Spear ye, Sanscartier, does that by any chance ring a bell? About the choice of weapon?’

Sanscartier agreed.

‘He was having a fling with that girl. And the girl often used the path, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Maybe she gave him the brush-off, maybe he was jealous and got mad at her. Possible, yes or no?’

‘Yes,’ said Sanscartier.

‘Or else, and this is what I think, she told him some stuff and nonsense about being pregnant. Maybe she wanted to get him to marry her. And it turned into a fight. He didn’t get beaten up by a branch, Sanscartier, he got beaten up because he was beating her up.’

‘We don’t even know for sure he met her.’

‘Are you listening or what?’

‘I only said, we don’t have any evidence.’

‘I’ve had it up to here with your lip, Sanscartier. We’ve got bucketsful of evidence. Fingerprints on the belt?’

‘Maybe he left them there earlier? He knew her after all.’

‘I’m beginning to wonder if you’re off your trolley as well, sergeant. I’ll spell it out. She bought the belt that day. Look, the girl turns up on the path. He sees red, goes bananas, and kills her. Full stop.’

‘I do understand what you’re saying, superintendent, it’s just that I find it hard to believe. I can’t make it fit together, Adamsberg and murder.’

‘Give up, won’t you! You met him a couple of weeks ago. What do you know about the guy? Nothing! He’s a phoney bastard. He killed her all right. And what proves he’s got a screw loose is he can’t remember what happened that night. He’s wiped it from his memory. Right?’

‘Right,’ said Sanscartier.

‘So you are going to nail this guy for me. Get the hell outta here and you’re on overtime till he’s under lock and key.’