Impure Blood (30 page)

‘We’ve got work to do, Erica. Let’s get on with it.’

Another alarm sounded as he walked away. He flipped his mobile.

‘Granot? Keep everything going up there but I want you to abandon your post and return to the Caserne.’ He outlined his revenge theory. ‘I’ll join you there later but in the meantime, start pulling up all cases that the boss and Vincent Dantier worked on together. Cases that resulted in long convictions, especially. There’s not
that
much of an overlap so it shouldn’t take for ever.’

‘This feels right, chief. Terrorists? It’s nothing to do with that. I can think of…’

Darac continued listening as he hurried towards the cordon tape. Sharing a concerned look with pathology lab technician Patricia Lebrun, he scribbled his signature on her sign-out sheet and ducked into the street.

‘Sorry, Granot – what was that?’

‘I said, Vincent once killed a guy.’

‘Did he?’ Darac cast a eye over the small crowd that had started to gather. ‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Name of Maurice… Brosse. Mid 1970s – not long before he retired. And Agnès was definitely on the force then. It was a bank robbery. Vincent saved a teller’s life by shooting Brosse but I guess the villain’s family might not have seen it that way. Why they’re taking revenge now after all these years might be a good question, mind you.’

‘Absolutely, but we must follow up anything like that. Commandeer anyone sensible to help you. I’ll get there as soon as I can.’

Ending the call, Darac spotted Frankie emerging from La Marguerite’s sister building across the street. She had a man on her arm – a halting, elderly figure with a slightly stoned expression. She called Darac over.

‘This is Monsieur Georges Dalot. He lives on the fourth floor of this building. His is just about the only apartment that commands a view down the ramp of La Marguerite’s parking garage.’ She turned to the old man. ‘Tell Captain Darac what you told me, Monsieur.’

As if it would give his account greater credibility, Dalot relinquished Frankie’s arm.

‘Excuse my woozy ways, Captain. It’s the tablets. Side effects are as bad as the condition I take them for, practically.’

This looked as if it was going to take some time. Time Darac didn’t have. He gave Frankie a questioning look. She nodded, implying the wait was going to be worth it.

‘It’s quite alright. Go ahead.’

‘A couple of days ago, I was looking out of my window when I saw a fellow park his van at the top of the ramp, there – parked it this side of the barrier. It was a white van. Quite big. I’ve already told your colleague I couldn’t tell the make. Now from any other vantage point, no one would have seen what happened next because the van would have been in the way, but from mine, you could.’

‘Excellent.’

Dalot took a moment to mop his forehead.

‘Anyway, I thought nothing of it when the driver got a stepladder out of the van and set it up under that closed-circuit camera, there.’

Dalot smiled, indicating a twist was coming.

‘Interesting. Go on, monsieur.’

‘I assumed he was from some firm. Repair man.

Anyway, he goes up the ladder, just seemed to stand there looking out for a second, came down straight away, got in the van and drove off. Now explain that.’

‘When was this?’

‘Thursday. Be about five past eight in the evening.’ Dalot raised a cautionary finger. ‘Now I don’t live at that window like some nosey old woman. Sorry, my dear…’

Frankie humoured the old man with a smile.

‘…But I was going out and as you can see, I’m not so good on my legs these days so I’d called a taxi. I was looking out for it. That’s how I know what the time was.’

‘By any chance…’

‘Can I describe the driver, Captain? You see, I’m not stupid. Uh… no, I can’t. But he was wearing dark-blue overalls. He was young-ish, I suppose, judging by the way he skipped up and down the ladder. Medium height. Medium build. Clean-shaven, I think.’

‘Go on, you’re doing well.’

‘But that’s it. I couldn’t tell you what colour hair he had or anything.’ He wiped his forehead again. ‘He was wearing a cap. Blue. Or black, maybe. The peak was down quite low over his eyes.’ He leaned forward slightly. ‘What’s gone on here, anyway? A murder or something?’

‘A white man, was it, the driver?’

‘Ah, you’re not sure yet – I get you.’ He straightened. ‘The driver? I think he was white. Couldn’t say for sure, though. Some of your Beurs are very light-skinned for example, aren’t they?’

‘Can you remember anything else about him at all?’

‘Sorry. In all conscience, I couldn’t recognise him in a line-up.’

‘Any writing or designs on the overalls? Or on the cap?’

‘Not that I could see.’

‘Was he wearing gloves?’

‘Now that you mention it, he was. I couldn’t see them to start with but when he was on top of the ladder, he took them off. Then after a moment or two, he put them on again. Then he went, as I said.’

‘What did he do in the gap between taking off his gloves and putting them on again?’

Dalot shook his head a fraction, as if a greater effort might collapse his scrawny neck.

‘He had his back to me. I couldn’t see.’

‘The van, now. Was it your impression that the man in the overalls was used to driving it?’

Dalot was delighted by the question.

‘Funny you should ask that. I don’t know if he wasn’t used to it or not but he did have a problem reversing it out. Stalled it twice.’

‘Uh-huh. One final point…’

‘I haven’t seen either the man or the van since. That what you want to know?’

Darac smiled, extending his hand. Dalot’s handshake was surprisingly firm.

‘You’ve been a great help, monsieur.’

‘Always glad to help the police.’

‘Can you make your own way back to the apartment?’

‘Of course I can.’ Leaning precariously in to Darac, the old man essayed a wink. His eyelid stuck halfway. ‘I’d rather she came with me, though. Like Elizabeth Taylor in her prime, isn’t she, eh? A beautiful, proper woman. Not like these stick insects. If you take my meaning.’

‘I take it. But I need her to come with me.’ He turned to her. ‘That’s if you’re finished in there, Elizabeth?’

‘Yes I am, Richard.’

‘We may need you again, monsieur.’

‘That’s alright. The young lady has my details.’

Conveying a sense that it had been the most exciting afternoon he’d experienced in years, the old man turned and tottered back into the building.

‘Good find, Frankie.’

They turned and headed back to La Marguerite.

‘What did you make of what he saw? The man in the overalls didn’t seem to have had sufficient time to disable the CCTV or anything. He didn’t even touch it, according to my admirer.’

‘The business with the gloves is puzzling as well. But I’m hoping all will be revealed when we look at the footage from the camera. I’m going off to the control room in a minute.’

‘Good luck. We never get
quite
what we need from CCTV, do we?’

‘There’s bound to be a first time. Listen, Frankie – the Manou Esquebel tail operation. Remember that?’

‘Just about.’

‘Anyway, Erica’s on schedule with her…’ He searched for the term. ‘…phone GPS tracking thing…’

‘Excellent.’

‘So it’s set for tomorrow, provisionally. I’d love you to lead it. Will you?’

Darac tended to stare at the floor when he was thinking; Frankie favoured thin air.

‘I’d like to – providing I’m not needed on this.’

‘We’ll have to see how things pan out. But if you could do it, you’d have two Foch guys in cars just to begin the tail. How many do you think you’d need at the business end?’

‘Four more. Four plus Erica.’

‘Can you take a couple of your own people off what they’re doing?’

‘I hope so. But there’ll be time to decide that later.’

Darac had another proposal to make. He outlined the brief he’d given Granot.

‘Martinet’s back at the Caserne,’ she said. ‘Why not ask him to help?’

‘At times, we’ve all missed things ploughing through lists, haven’t we? Martinet misses more than anyone. You wouldn’t do that.’

She pressed her lips together, another aid to thought.

‘I’m on my way. Keep me posted.’

‘And vice versa.’

As Frankie left for the Caserne, Darac noticed the crowd had expanded a little. He turned his back on them as he sent out an updating radio shout, then called over the callow Officer Nallet. The boy’s shaved head was beaded with sweat.

‘I’d stand under one of the palms if I were you. You’ll get sunstroke.’

‘I’ll be fine, sir, thanks.’

‘Okay.’ He indicated the crowd. ‘It’ll probably grow. Keep them back. If they get in the way, disperse them. Can you do that?’

‘Yes, I can.’

Darac gave the boy a parting pat.

‘By the way, sir,’ Nallet called out, ‘I did tell Mademoiselle Fort to go fuck herself. Not in those exact words, though.’

‘Good call.’

Potrain’s much-vaunted control centre was in the basement of the building: two air-conditioned rooms full of high-tech gear. Darac had to admit the place looked impressive. But looks could be deceiving.

Potrain waved an arm across it.

‘It’s as I told you, Captain. This is a state-of-the-art surveillance system. Extensive in here.’ Another arm wave. ‘Discreet out there.’

Darac caught Lartou’s eye, a look inviting
his
take on the set-up. He gave it a guarded thumbs-up.

‘Okay.’ Darac ran a hand through his hair. ‘You all heard my account of what Monsieur Dalot witnessed from across the street?’

They had.

‘I take it the man in the white panel van isn’t part of your maintenance staff, Monsieur Potrain?’

‘You take it correctly.’

Lartou was sitting at a multi-screen console next to one of Potrain’s employees, a serious-looking individual whose name badge identified him as ‘Alain Drut, Senior Security Officer’ – the man who had been on duty overnight. Darac turned to him.

‘You were on duty last night?’

‘Yes, Captain. From 10 pm. I’ve already made a statement but, in short, I didn’t see anything untoward either on foot patrol or on screen.’

‘Have you seen any of the footage yet, Lartou?’

‘Just about to. When do you think the boss arrived home last night? Every frame is time-tagged so we can be precise about it.’

‘Time-tagged accurately?’

‘Really!’ Potrain’s poker face set new standards for the genre. ‘Within a tenth of a second accurate enough for you?’

Darac ignored him.

‘Béatrice’s record shows Agnès signed out at 11.47. Add two minutes for the walk to her car – that means driving straight here, she couldn’t have been back before 11.55. To be on the safe side, start running the footage a couple of minutes before.’

‘From the camera at the top of the ramp? The one the man in the van looked at?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘What else?’ Potrain said. ‘Talk about obvious.’

Darac gave him a look.

‘We don’t need you any further, monsieur.’

Potrain stood his ground for the moment.

Darac eyeballed him.

‘But here’s one final thing. Don’t breathe a word about what’s happened here today until the story is released officially. If you do, you will be in serious trouble.’

Potrain walked briskly away but he paused at the door. ‘Run the playback at eight-times speed, Drut, or you’ll be here all afternoon.’

‘Run it at normal speed, Alain,’ Lartigue said.

Potrain threw up his hands.

‘Six properties, we manage. Six. And we’ve never had a single…’

Darac fixed him with a look.

‘Goodbye.’

‘If they sequester any of the discs, make sure you get a receipt, Drut.’

‘Yes, monsieur…’

The door closed behind Potrain.

‘…Tosser.’

The review finally began. Like a family engrossed in a TV programme, the trio kept their eyes on the screen as they talked.

‘Don’t envy you working for Potrain.’ Lartigue gave a little snort. ‘What’s wrong with his face? Stroke?’

‘Botox. He thinks the injections make him look younger. He looks like a living corpse, if you ask me.’

‘At what time did you look around the garage before this?’ Darac said. ‘On foot, I mean.’

‘Eleven-thirty on the dot. And then one-thirty was the next time. Regular as clockwork. I take pride in what I do, Captain. I never bunk off, never sleep, read, watch TV or drink on the job. I want you to know that.’

Darac had never come across a security guard who
did
admit to doing these things. But most of them had, at one time or another.

‘And you saw nothing strange? Nothing at all?’

‘No. I had a spin round all the parked cars, as well. Sometimes, a resident who knows they’re not going to be needing it will lend their barrier key to a friend and they use their space. They’re not supposed to do that and we tick them off about it. But not last night – every vehicle in there was the authorised one. I’d swear to it.’

‘That’s good work. But of course, you can’t be everywhere all the time, can you?’

‘No. This is what we keep telling them. We need more staff. But what can you do?’

‘On your way to and from the garage, you didn’t see this white van Monsieur Dalot saw parked in the street?’

‘That was the first thing Officer Lartigue asked me when you radioed in. No, I didn’t. And I always look up and down. Especially since we’ve had the kids.’

‘Kids?’

Their eyes were still glued on the screen.

‘Shining those laser beam things. Into drivers’ eyes. Little arseholes. But we haven’t seen them for a day or two.’

‘Ah.’

They didn’t have to wait long for a familiar grey Citroën to appear at the top of the ramp, the barrier closing behind it.

‘Here’s Madame’s car arriving. But of course you know that.’ Drut looked overcome suddenly. ‘It’s destroyed me, this has. Beautiful person. Always had a word. Always…’

‘Yes.’ Darac nodded. It wasn’t the time to give in to his feelings. ‘Let’s keep watching. Closely.’

Lartigue noted down the time from the monitor as the Citroën descended the ramp and turned at the bottom. Almost immediately, the image blipped and lost focus. When it returned, the picture lacked sharpness.