Murder on Brittany Shores (19 page)

Dupin finished his third coffee and contemplated ordering a fourth, he had a feeling his brain still wasn't functioning quite right. And he needed a croissant for his stomach. He had just made eye contact with the waitress when his mobile shrilled.

‘Who's this?'

He had sounded unintentionally rude.

For a moment, nothing happened.

‘Hello?' Dupin was annoyed.

‘Check out the activities of Pajot and Konan's company,
Medimare,
and the
Institut Marine de Concarneau.
'

The voice sounded artificially disguised, muffled and low, far away. Deliberately montonous.

‘Who's there? Hello? Hello, who's speaking?'

‘This is about
Medimare.
Yannig Konan and Grégoire Pajot's company.'

This was no joke.

‘What exactly is this about? Talk to me.'

No answer. Dupin waited. Nothing more, the caller had hung up. Suddenly, Dupin was wide awake. He froze, momentarily motionless.

Before he had even had time to think any more, his mobile rang again.

‘Where are you, Monsieur le Commissaire?'

‘I – – – Nolwenn?'

‘Yes?'

It took Dupin a moment to pull himself together.

‘What does
Medimare
mean to you?'

‘Hmmm – nothing at all.'

So the company couldn't be well known.

‘I've just received an anonymous call.'

‘Oh?'

Dupin was glad to be able to tell Nolwenn about it, so it became more real.

‘I got a call a minute ago, asking me to examine the activities of Pajot and Konan's company
Medimare
and the
Institut Marine de Concarneau
with a fine-tooth comb. He…' something occurred to Dupin, ‘where did he get my number from?'

‘Before I left yesterday, I myself transferred your personal extension to your mobile, that's what we always do at night during a case. He probably called your number in the Commissariat. It's easy to get.'

‘Please check, Nolwenn.'

Dupin was still feeling the after-effects of this strange call.

‘We'll know that very soon. But surely it was a withheld number.'

That was true, nobody would be so stupid.

‘I don't know the name
Medimare
but that's definitely one of the companies I was talking about yesterday. I'll take a look at that straight away. What do you make of this call, Monsieur le Commissaire? It sounds extremely vague.'

‘No idea. But we have to find out everything about this company at once.'

The caller had told him very little. Still, it was a clue. If there was something fishy going on with the companies the two of them owned and they had made enemies from it, there might have been a motive – and people who had one. And sometimes an anonymous person did give a tip. But sometimes these calls meant nothing at all, they were sick jokes by people not involved. Or they turned out to be well-aimed diversions.

‘And the voice didn't seem familiar to you?'

‘No. It was disguised. Although not very professionally.'

‘Was it a man's voice?'

‘Yes.'

‘You know the
Institut Marine,
don't you?'

‘Yes of course. I mean, I know as much as the next person.

Dupin's apartment – given to him by the city – was around hundred metres away from the institute. If he stood on his narrow balcony and looked out to sea, it was directly to his right. The institute had a branch on the other side of the harbour by now, the ‘
rive gauche
'. An institute for marine biology – in all honesty, that's as much as Dupin knew.

‘It's the oldest research post for marine biology in the world. Which is no coincidence of course. Breton!'

Of course.

‘Well regarded, a large number of renowned scientists work there. The head is Professor Yves Le Berre-Ryckeboerec.'

‘Berk-Rib…?'

‘Professor Yves Le Berre-Ryckeboerec.'

This was the ultimate escalation for Dupin: complicated Breton names clustering together in double-barrels. He noted ‘Director, Institute' in his notebook.

‘Is he based in the main building? Where the
Marinarium
is?'

There was a not very large but lovingly equipped
Marinarium,
no comparison with the
Océanopolis
in Brest, but Dupin liked it, even though it didn't have any penguins. He'd visited an exhibition there only three or four weeks ago. The purpose of the exhibition was immediately obvious: ‘Fish on my plate, what's your name?' It was about the numerous types of fish in the area that you found at local fishmongers and on the restaurant menus. It demonstrated what they looked like before they ended up on the plate – alive, in their proper maritime habitat. There had been an incredible, colourful range, Dupin hadn't been able to get his head round it.

‘I assume he's based in the main building. I'll check that.'

‘Yes. Get in touch.'

‘What are you going to do now?'

‘I'll see.'

Dupin hung up.

Should he take the anonymous phone call seriously? His instinct told him: yes.

He felt a bit better anyway – the caffeine was doing the trick. Riwal and Kadeg would surely already be on their way to the airport. He had in fact intended to fly to the islands with them, to begin by speaking to Solenn Nuz. Then to the diving instructor. But he also wanted to talk to the mayor of Fouesnant. And the doctor from Sainte Marine, who was probably one of the last people to have spoken to Konan. Dupin had a series of urgent questions.

He reached for his phone.

‘Riwal?'

‘Yes, chief?'

‘Fly without me. I'll come later. I'm paying a quick visit to the
Institut Marine.
You and Kadeg get to work on what we discussed yesterday evening. I want to know immediately if there's anything interesting. No matter what. You're aware it's about every detail, every irrelevant-seeming circumstance.'

‘Understood.'

Riwal probably knew these sentences off by heart already. But he had not sounded resigned.

‘The examination and salvaging of Pajot's boat, who is going to supervise that? Goulch?'

‘Definitely. How are you going to get to the Glénan, chief?'

‘We'll see. I'll be in touch.'

Dupin hadalmost hung up.

‘Riwal, wait.'

‘Yes, chief?'

‘One more thing, I want to know the situation with Lucas Lefort's estate as soon as possible. Whether Madame Lefort will inherit everything. And talk to Madame Menez again, the assistant.'

‘Anything specific?'

‘Lucas Lefort wanted to have some cargo boat or other for the coming week. Take a look at that. And ask what the boat can be used for. And find out what led Madame Menez to end up on the Glénan. Her story.'

‘Her story?'

‘Exactly.'

Those were two things that had been going through his mind yesterday. Two among many other things.

After they ended the conversation, Dupin took his notebook and pen, stood up, placed ten euro on the little red plastic plate and left the
Bulgare.

His car, an old, much-loved, boxy and unwieldy Citroën XM, which he had not replaced with a new official car yet, against all of the Prefecture's instructions, was right in front of the door. The sun had come up now and the traffic heavy
Route Nationale,
which was ten or fifteen metres in front of him, ran eastwards towards Concarneau, into a dazzling orange-pink sky.

*   *   *

It was eight o'clock on the dot. The director had arrived at almost the exact same time as Dupin. For science, the working day began early.

It was an impressive office that the director was sitting in, impressive for its size alone, a good forty metres square Dupin guessed, but especially impressive due to its view: through the panorama window you could see far out over the open Atlantic. The fifth floor of the dignified, dark-grey, stone building – which looked all of its hundred years and had resisted the tossing surf with its rear side built directly into the sea – boasted a view like that from a lighthouse.

Director Le Berre-Ryckeboerec was an angular, not exactly tall man in his late fifties with a gaunt, wan face and not much hair, whose pale appearance was only lent vitality by his extremely lively, light green eyes. He was sitting behind an intimidatingly sharp-edged wooden desk, wearing a dark grey suit that had obviously been elegant once, but was now worn-out.

It was clear the director's secretary was a little shocked by the Commissaire's unannounced visit. She was sure to have heard about the triple murder. Without announcing him, She had led Dupin into the Director's room after a brief, hasty knock. He had, it seemed, only just sat down and obviously thought her behaviour inappropriate.

‘I would have liked to make a call first, Madame Sabathier. And since when do we accept visitors who do not give any notice?'

He was pointedly acting as though Dupin was not in the room at all. His voice was – in contrast to his outward appearance – powerful and authoritative.

‘I'm terribly sorry, Monsieur le Directeur, it won't happen again. I just thought – Monsieur le Commissaire Dupin is in fact investigating this awful murder case on…'

‘I know perfectly well about the murder case.'

The conversation was still taking place without any acknowledgement of Dupin's presence.

‘But that is no reason to suspend etiquette and manners. Or to upset my working day.'

Dupin felt an angry buzzing in his solar plexus. His rage was growing from second to second. ‘I think it is, Monsieur,' he said. ‘A triple murder thoroughly upsets everything.' Director Le Berre-Ryckeboerec looked him coldly up and down.

‘And the investigations in this murder case lead you to the illustrious
Institut Marine?
Well, the institute, along with its one hundred and fifty international scientists, welcomes you warmly. How can we be of help?'

On the journey here, the anonymous call had already started to seem like a bizarre dream to Dupin. He had to admit that the vague hint at some kind of ‘activities' was shaky ground for questioning, especially under these hostile conditions. And apart from the minimal information available online about Pajot and Konan's business, which Nolwenn had sent through to him shortly before his arrival, Dupin knew absolutely nothing. All in all, an extremely weak starting point. There was nothing for it but to take the bull by the horns, an option that was very much in keeping with Dupin's character anyway.

‘It's about the illegal business transactions between the institute and
Medimare
– the company that belonged to the two of the three men who have just been victims of murder.'

Dupin's insinuation was not backed up by anything. But he needed to know whether he was on the right track and caution was hardly going to get him anywhere here. The director sat up straight, his face becoming even more pointed, his mouth more thin-lipped, his eyes, now fixed keenly on Dupin, had narrowed into slits.

‘I don't think I quite understand what you just said.'

‘I'm happy to repeat it.'

Dupin needed to persevere now. It wasn't difficult for him, the antipathy had been spontaneous and strong. Dupin knew these kinds of characters.

‘I understand – there's a method to your humour.'

Now Le Berre-Ryckeboerec's irritation was clear too. Dupin was on the point of losing his temper. He tried to regulate his breathing (he was proud that he had learnt this, the basics at least: take a deep breath into the stomach, wait five seconds before breathing out slowly, then five more seconds before breathing in – this delay was important!). All of the life had drained out of the secretary's face in the last half a minute, standing motionless as though rooted to the spot.

‘I don't think I will be having this conversation, Monsieur le Commissaire.'

Le Berre-Ryckeboerc knew that he needn't say a word now, here.

‘I will be consulting our lawyers immediately about your outrageous insinuations. We have maintained excellent business links with Mr Konan and Mr Pajot's company for many years. Like other companies, they have acquired patents and licenses from us. If you are interested in these topics, go ahead, that will be a matter for communication to our lawyers. I suggest that we bid each other farewell now.'

‘Yes, that would be best for all of us.'

Le Berre-Ryckeboerec turned to Madame Sabathier as if Dupin had already left the room:

‘I will place my call now, as planned. And if you could inform Monsieur Daeron that I wish to speak to him here in the institute.'

Dupin's thoughts were racing, but he couldn't think of any more tricks that he might have had up his sleeve.

‘We will,' Dupin said softly, almost whispering, yet harshly and acidly, ‘we will look at every tiny detail of this cooperation with
Medimare,
everything that has existed and exists,' a subtle smile showed in one corner of his mouth, ‘we'll take this opportunity to put the entirety of your business activities under the microscope. I'm looking forward to this, Monsieur le Directeur.'

Dupin didn't wait for a reaction, but turned on his heel and left the office. He took the lift, which was unbearably slow.

He already had his mobile to his ear as he left the building.

‘Nolwenn?'

‘I was just going to…'

‘I need a search warrant. For the institute. Doesn't matter how. Does not matter at all. And immediately. We have to check the institute's business links to
Medimare,
especially the sale of licenses and patents, all of the research output.'

‘Are you in the institute already?'

Nolwenn sounded slightly confused.