Murder on Brittany Shores (23 page)

Read Murder on Brittany Shores Online

Authors: Jean-Luc Bannalec

BOOK: Murder on Brittany Shores
10.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘I left her a message.'

‘Romantic!'

‘See you next week.'

‘Yes, see you next week!'

*   *   *

They were in the middle of the deep Atlantic blue, the Glénan were shimmering in front of them, the Île aux Moutons behind then. Although not far away, the Moutons could only be made out vaguely. They blurred hazily into the sea. It was misty, in a way. Dupin was familiar with this by now: the effect of the water in the air was enormous. The blue became gentle, soft, smooth, it was still a rich blue, but it didn't have the lucid luminosity of yesterday. The haze changed the light, sun, colours, taste and smell of the air, it became very soft itself – and at the same time more powerful, more intense. It muffled the sounds, even the silence. It also became velvety. At the horizon to the west – far away – there was a thin, sharply outlined layer of dark cloud masses, a fine, firm line, so long that there was no end in sight.

The captain of the
Luc'hed
had turned off the motor. The crew was busy with the dinghy. The sea seemed almost perfectly flat – ‘like oil', the Bretons said – not even the slightest movement was visible and yet the boat was being rocked, as if by a ghostly hand, in a vigorous, albeit strangely slow motion way.

They were about thirty metres away from Marc Leussot's boat, the
Kavadenn,
which had a normal hull, but whose partially misshapen structures and installations made it clear that the boat had a specific function. It took a moment before Dupin recognised it as the boat that he had noticed at the quay yesterday while sitting in the
Quatre Vents
eating the delicious lobster.

Docteur Le Menn hadn't been contactable at the practice or at home or on his mobile. He didn't have consultation hours until the afternoon, he spent Tuesday mornings making house calls, if there were any – which today, according to the practice receptionist, hadn't been the case. Dupin had driven back to Concarneau where the
Luc'hed
had been waiting for him. Nolwenn had arranged everything. He had spoken to Kadeg – who had already got his first meeting with the Director of the institute over with – on the phone again, but who seemed unimpressed and reported that two experts from Quimper had already disabled the institute's server. The Director was currently consulting with his lawyers.

Nolwenn had then had Leussot radioed, to find out his exact position. So it had, like yesterday, been a speedboat that had lived up to its definition by tearing through the groundswell with Dupin onboard.

‘Over here, Monsieur le Commissaire.'

One of the police officers was already in the very small dinghy, which was rocking violently. This really was not Dupin's habitat, no and he was extremely sorry to have thrown his justified decision of yesterday morning – to drop the whole boat thing – out the window so soon. He should simply have ordered Leussot to come to Saint-Nicolas. Dupin gave himself a shake. He mustered all his psychological strength and, thanks to his agility, which he generally wasn't thought capable of due to his rather large build, he was soon on the tiny rowing boat. The outboard motor showed off its impressive horsepower, and soon they were approaching the
Kavadenn
with stunning speed. Leussot was standing on the stern where wide wooden steps led down into the sea.

‘
Bonjour,
Monsieur le Commissaire. Come on.'

Leussot held out his hand, but Dupin heaved himself on board without any help, in a not every elegant, yet precise way.

‘
Bonjour,
Monsieur Leussot.'

Leussot was a tall, very athletic man with fine facial features, lively eyes, rather long hair. He was, perhaps, mid to late forties. He was wearing short, washed-out shorts and an open black jacket with a white t-shirt underneath. The built-on bits of the boat looked even more misshapen up close.

‘I've just been taking care of lunch.'

Leussot spoke with a deep sense of calm, which perfectly suited the supreme, gentle strength which he radiated in general. Two fishing rods lay on the long bench that ran underneath the railing.

‘A
vieille,
wonderful, a magnificent specimen, look.'

Leussot lifted up a battered plastic bucket which had a large fin peeping out of it.

‘You won't get this fish in any restaurant, in any fishmongers, or even back home on the coast. You have to eat it within a few hours of catching it, otherwise it spoils straight away. It's one of the best edible fish in the world and found in healthy numbers here – still.'

Flecks of gold shimmered and diffracted the sunlight into soft rainbow colours on

the forty-centimetre long, fat, green-orange-red speckled fish.

‘Impressive.'

Unfortunately, Dupin couldn't think of anything else to say. The
Kavadenn
was rocking just like the speedboat. He had hoped that it would be slightly less bad, since it was several metres longer.

‘I have some questions, Monsieur Leussot. You're aware that we are investigating the murder case of Lefort, Konan and Pajot.'

‘I'm up to speed. If you like, we can go below deck, it's not very spacious down there, but we'll have some quiet.'

Dupin took this as a joke. Yet Leussot was looking at a narrow door behind the helm and was getting ready to make a move. He meant it seriously.

‘If you agree, I would prefer – to remain on deck. Out here in the open air.'

Having to sit cramped in a tiny room now was a traumatic thought.

‘Okay. Then I'll see to the fish while we talk.'

The dinghy was almost back at the
Luc'hed
already.

‘What do you know about the business activities of the institute and
Medimare?
Are you involved in these activities in any way?'

‘Well, you get right to the point.'

Leussot didn't let himself be thrown.

‘We have evidence of something amiss about these dealings.'

Dupin's was very keen to keep this conversation, out on the open sea, as short as possible.

Leussot raised his eyebrows, his deeply tanned forehead furrowing.

‘Okay. I'll tell you what I think: Konan and Pajot defrauded the institute, systematically, over and over, in conjunction with the Director, they were in things together – but I doubt that they were really actionable things. It's all taking place in a grey area, nobody will be able to touch them, legally. No matter how much some researchers in the institute hated them, they acted skilfully. – That, for me, would be the quintessence.'

‘How did you come to this
quintessence?
'

Leussot had flipped open a long Laguiole knife and at that very moment the boat made a particularly severe movement, making the situation – Leussot half toppled onto Dupin – seem threatening for a moment. Dupin was too busy keeping his balance to worry about it. Leussot realised the strangeness of the little incident and smiled. With his left hand, he picked up the large, shiny fish which was still thrashing fiercely and set to work with practised movements. Quickly and precisely, he placed the knife to the underside of its head.

‘My research was also involved sometimes. Yes, you're surely wondering that. They buy the results at a very early stage, at the risk of them not in fact being as viable as they initially appear, sometimes at prices that are far too low. The individual researcher doesn't have any control over the business side of course, they are employed by the institute. Le Berre-Ryckeboerec profits from the deals from, amongst other things, the fact
Medimare
sponsors the institute – which provides the legendary third-party funding.'

The fish's innards fell into the bucket. Leussot had taken them out with a few artful flicks of the wrist.

‘Pajot and Konan got patents at extremely reasonable prices. That was the deal. When in doubt, it was to the disadvantage of the researcher. Only, of course, if large discoveries were involved. But as I say: there won't be proof of anything illegal there, is my guess,' he fell silent for a moment, but then picked up the thread again immediately. ‘I also don't think that they greased the director's palm, that he personally received money in return. Even if he is a slippery asshole.'

Leussot stood up and went to the bow, leaning down dangerously far and holding the fish in the water – in a way that made it clear that the conversation with Dupin could continue in the meantime. The fish carcass was still twitching violently every few seconds.

‘How come you're so sure of that?'

‘Intuition.'

For a moment, Dupin wanted to enquire as to what exactly Leussot meant by ‘asshole' in reference to the director, but in fact it was already obvious. Leussot came back, placed the fish in a second bucket and sat down again.

‘What is this research specifically about?

Dupin had got out his notepad. Even on his first attempt to note something down, he realised that this was not a good idea on the boat. He went ahead anyway, although he already knew now that he would be puzzling over what he had noted down here in the coming days.

‘The seas are brimming with treasures of immense value for humans. We should use them before we've laid it all to waste. Take, for example, the wonderful
Chondrus Crispus,
a red algae that we are researching currently. A crazy life form. If it's attacked by microbes, this algae literally transforms into a high performance factory for fatty acid oxides, which can be used in medications. So far, fifty thousand substances and organisms from the sea have been identified that are suspected to have therapeutic potential. And that's just the beginning. Many of them are already undergoing clinical testing, a series of them have already passed.'

‘Marvellous.'

Dupin was indeed impressed. He liked topics like this, sometimes he bought himself natural science magazines, which he eagerly read, even if he strictly speaking didn't actually understand a word of it.

‘Life comes from the sea – evolution had over three billion years here. It produced a great deal more shapes and functions in the oceans than on land. The biological variety is immense,' Leussot was absolutely in his element, yet it didn't seem like a show at all. ‘It's estimated at three million different species.'

Leussot paused for quite a long time.

‘And right at the moment when people are beginning to grasp the sheer, infinite potential the oceans harbour, they themselves are destroying it. All of it.'

‘You mean the Glénan?'

‘I mean the bigger picture. The oceans are ill.'

‘And are you doing something about it?'

Leussot was clearly thrown for a moment, he wasn't sure how Dupin meant that.

‘I am. I'm taking action.'

He fell silent again, but then a broad smile appeared on his face again.

‘Yes, I'm doubly, triple suspect. I was an enemy of Lefort, I opposed his destructive plans, wrote critical articles and am amongst those defrauded by Pajot and Konan's company – and I was in the
Quatre Vents
yesterday evening. You've got to admit, that's not too shabby.'

Suddenly his face grew serious.

‘Finding someone else who had the motive to kill all three of them will not be easy.'

‘If you're also one of the people who go on treasure hunts, looking for sunken boats, coins, gold and silver…'

Dupin had remained pointedly matter-of-fact. He had suddenly remembered a dream just now that he'd had in his few hours of sleep last night. It had been utterly bizarre. So embarrassing that Dupin would have preferredit never to cross his mind again. He, Riwal and Kadeg had been worn-out old buccaneers. On a ridiculously small frigate, which was letting off valiant sustained fire nonetheless, they were chasing three majestic sailing ships overflowing with stolen treasures, helmed by Lefort, Konan and Pajot. But the best thing about the little frigate had been this: it could dive. Descend and then emerge again here or there at breakneck speed. That's how they hunted down one after the other.

‘That's child's play,' Leussot responded earnestly.

‘If I understand correctly, discoveries do sometimes happen.'

‘It's not my thing.'

There had been something brusque about this sentence, Dupin thought.

‘So you don't know of any “treasure hunt” going on at the moment – in this area?'

‘No.'

‘Did you personally come into contact with Pajot and Konan?'

‘I knew Konan by sight, from the
Quatre Vents.
He always came with Lefort. I've never said a word to him. Why would I? I've never seen Pajot all. I only know the name through
Medimare.
I don't want to have anything to do with any of that.'

‘And Lefort, how was your relationship to him?'

‘There was none. The idea wouldn't have occurred to me either. He was an awful guy. End of story. That would be my summary.'

Dupin was having some difficulty staying upright, the boat had rocked dangerously a few times.

‘And do you have a theory on the murders? Some idea of what might have happened here?'

‘One of the dirty tricks they pulled will have made someone angry. Truly angry.'

‘Do you know Docteur Le Menn? Did you see him in the
Quatre Vents
the evening before last?'

‘Le Menn? No. As far as I know, he wasn't there.'

Leussot's expression had darkened, he didn't even try and hide it.

‘A friend of Lefort's?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did you know him personally?'

‘No.'

‘You know that he's a doctor.'

Yes.'

Even this was a waste of effort. Leussot didn't want to do this.

‘The new mayor appears to be another friend of Lefort's, he…'

‘In his case, it wouldn't surprise me if his favourable attitude towards Lefort's plans had been motivated by money,' this seemed to be weighing heavily on Leussot's mind, ‘or else it was enough for him that, as the mayor, he would profit from the huge investment. Prosperity, growth, image, a tax income increased many times over. Those are the currencies of reality. Nature – the animals, the people, nobody gives a shit about any of that. Terrible that it sounds so cheap, like painting by numbers. But that's exactly how it is. There's no difference.'

Other books

The Bird of the River by Kage Baker
Magic at Midnight by Marteeka Karland
After Rain by William Trevor
Port of Errors by Steve V Cypert
Fudoki by Johnson, Kij
The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan
The Decent Proposal by Kemper Donovan
Her Master's Command by Sabrina Armstrong
Chains of Ice by Christina Dodd