The Art of Murder (19 page)

“
Anything else?”

“
I think the driver was
wearing a dark suit. Bah. He had on a white shirt and a dark tie,
but that is just an impression.” Gilles tried to visualize it all
as it had happened. “The tie was dark. Bah.”

He was saving the best part for
last.

“
There was a woman in the
back seat.”

“
Oh, really?”

“
Yes. She seemed to sit up
and gape, all wide-eyed and terrified when the shots came. She
might have been asleep or drunk. Her hand flew up to her mouth.”
Gilles chewed on his lip. “As an act, or as a diversion, or what I
don’t know, it doesn’t make any sense. Bringing an innocent girl
along, or any useless person, doesn’t make much sense
either.”

“
Yes, I see what you mean.”
Lenormand put his notebook away. “No one saw anything, although
pretty much everyone we have canvassed admits to hearing it.
Strange neighbourhood. It’s right on the brink, you
know?”

Gilles thought knew what he
meant.

“
Ah.”

Lenormand meant that the area was in
decline, and the prognosis was not so good. It would likely get
worse before it got better.

“
What’s the problem?”
Lenormand shook his head.

“
The usual thing. Not enough
money, or not enough love to go around.” He sighed.

“
I see.” Gilles shrugged,
not so much expressively, as out of a sense of pure futility. “Yes.
There is always that.”

“
And you, my friend, need to
go home and get some sleep. I’ll have one of the men drive you.
Hell, I’ll drive you myself. And I would advise…” Lenormand reached
for the key, as it was his personal automobile.

He had been called at home in the
middle of the night, but he seemed very fresh and alert.

“
You would advise me to do
all the same things that I would advise any victim in similar
circumstances to do.” Gilles would be a little more careful from
then on. “I will watch my back, n’est pas?”

He twirled a fez hat in his hands, just
another incongruity. The prevalent theory, made up on the spot, was
that it was connected. The thing had been found jammed under the
car immediately to the left of where Gilles had been cowering.
While it was certainly possible that it had been there for some
time, the thing was brand-new and fairly dry when it was recovered.
The inference seemed obvious that it was taken off in the car by
the gunman or another occupant, and that it must have spilled out
when the thug opened up the back door to take the shot.

Human beings being what they were,
Gilles had politely offered no theories, but his mind was caught up
in thoughts of window dressing. There was a distinct
possibility.

Lenormand’s lips flattened in a thin
line.

“
I want you to take this
seriously.” He turned and gave Gilles a stern look, eye-to-eye and
man-to-man. “I mean that.”

He drove along steadily, checking the
mirror frequently.

“
This is no coincidence.”
Gilles’s voice was emotionless.

“
Hah!”

“
No, seriously. It has to be
connected to something big, and I have only so many cases on my
desk.”

“
Too many, and that’s just
the truth.” Lenormand took his eyes off the dimly lit street for a
moment. “And this is the slow season.”

The remark had no irony in it. It was
just a fact. The pre-dawn light coming from the east and the lights
of the dashboard lit up his features, throwing them into cold
relief.

“
What are you
saying?”

“
I have two new cases, and
who knows, probably more tomorrow. But of all the ones lately, I
can’t think of a single one that has that much clout. Or involves
that sort of crowd.” Gilles chewed his lip some more. “As for the
floater, we don’t know enough yet. That one looks like a prank.
Anything else, anyone else, is just plain ludicrous.”

Lenormand nodded, thinking along with
Gilles. Most homicides were no mystery at all, in fact the reverse
was usually true—a stabbing over a domestic dispute, a few drinks
and a row between friends, with ten witnesses and no doubts at all
about what happened. People often fled of course, and finding them
quickly was the real challenge. That took proper detective work,
and a lot of it sometimes.

“
And that
leaves?”

“
Just one real possibility,
Guy, just one.”

Lenormand rounded a corner, his big
peasant hands resting lightly on the wheel. Just a few blocks ahead
lay the side street where Maintenon lived. As they approached, a
couple of pedestrians arrived at the intersection. The city was
either waking up or hadn’t fully gone to bed yet. There were always
the night people. He assumed it to be true of any major
city.

“
Interesting.”

“
Yes. Very much so.” Gilles
gave a short, sharp nod of decision. “Right, then. If that’s the
way you want it.”

He was no longer talking to Guy
Lenormand, although he was the only one there. Gilles let himself
out and stood looking off contemplatively into nothing and
nowhere.

“
Good night, Gilles.” With a
sardonic grin, and a quick check of the mirrors, Lenormand put it
in gear and drove away.

Finally Gilles dug around in his
pockets for his key, still lost in thought although much calmer
now.

Chapter
Thirteen

Gilles endured a fitful
sleep

Gilles endured four or five hours of
the most fitful sleep, constantly tossing from side to side and
trying to convince himself that he was going to drop off in the
very next minute. To focus too much on the event was a time-waster.
It was a distraction. But if it was connected, there had to be some
other salient points that they had missed. They weren’t asking the
right questions yet.

Adrenalin took some time to be absorbed
back into the body. As his thoughts raced back and forth, searching
his memory for clues, it was surprising how easy it was to frighten
himself all over again.

After a time he got out of bed, and as
the chill dawn sky gradually paled, he lay on his left side on the
couch, forearm held straight up to keep the smoke out of his eyes,
his mind racing with the permutations. If only he could find the
classic framework, for there was nothing new under the sun. The
attempt on his life did not come out of the blue. It came from
somewhere, and almost inevitably, it would spiral out of control.
The investigation would draw manpower, cost the department hundreds
if not thousands of man-hours, and would come up with nothing.
Nowhere on his list was there the sort of case that involved anyone
remotely likely to have this much power. But if so, was it
political? If Gilles was nothing more than a symbol, what was he a
symbol of? Authority, unwanted and unloved, perceived as
oppressive? Was he simply available? Was it a spur of the moment,
crime of opportunity? If so, what was the purpose, except to send a
message?

He and Andre had visited the club, and
then shortly thereafter, someone tried to kill him. The logic was
inescapable, and yet he hated assumptions. It was very difficult
not the see the two events as connected.

He prayed for the night to end and for
the dawn to come, if only so he could occupy his mind with some
tangible actions. There was a time to think, and a time for
physicality.

At some point, he was aware that he
might be sleeping, and then he was awake again. The room was
bright, with hot sunshine beating across the floor, and he started
up off the couch with a bang, wondering if he might be late. It was
all right, he had just enough time by the clock on the mantel, its
soft yet insistent ticking oblivious to mere mortal
concerns.

He was at his desk by seven-thirty and
Andre drifted in ten or twelve minutes later. Predictably, he had
already heard the news. The others turned up right on time or even
a little early.

“
So what do you think,
Inspector?” It was Henri, puffed-up with righteous indignation on
behalf of the department as much as his boss.

Now that his life was under threat
Gilles wondered if Henri would pay a little more attention to
rank-based propriety, but alas, it was not to be.

“
I’ll bet you just about
shit your pants, eh, Inspector?” Levain suppressed a growl, while
Le Bref and his sidekick Emile Niguet chuckled but tried to look
disapproving.

Le Bref was a nickname for another
senior detective, Robert Campon, short as he was. Henri went silent
upon a look from Gilles.

“
One thing I know for sure,
you would, Henri.” Levain glanced at the papers on his desk. “The
big question in my mind, is where is the connection? There is
relative peace between all the various political factions. You are
not exactly known for any political leanings, and while a political
factor can’t be ruled out, it is more likely connected to some
important case, or some important personage who feels threatened.
Am I right, Inspector?”

Andre could get away with calling him
Gilles away from the office, and Henri’s insubordinate behaviour
could be ignored.

“
That’s all I can come up
with.” He heaved a deep sigh. “We still need manpower. In the
absence of any better ideas, I’m at the point where we start
shadowing suspects just to see what they do.”

“
We have suspects?” Le
Bref’s eyebrows rose. “When did that happen?”

“
Late last night, when the
Inspector was walking home.” Now Henri was championing his
cause.

Of all the nerve, but Gilles let it
go.

There came a rap at the
door.

To everyone’s astonishment, Chiappe
stuck his head in.

“
Mind if I come
in?”

Gilles blew air out with a sound like a
horse, and rose with alacrity, as Levain shot a look at Henri.
Henri gave up his chair for the boss, and most annoyingly went to
stand at Gilles’ right side, casting shadows that fell long and
awkward across the room in the light that came from the fly-specked
windows behind the Inspector’s desk.

“
What’s interesting about
this case is that no one has an alibi. Everyone who is anyone seems
to have been there when it happened. This is almost unprecedented
in the annals of crime.” Chiappe was a controversial choice for
head of the Surete. “Except for Alain, of course.”

“
Sir?”

He was always in hot water politically,
often from both sides of the fence and all across the spectrum.
There were whispers of corruption, but that was nothing unusual. It
was an occupational hazard.

“
I’ve got a little present
for you, Gilles.” Maintenon’s face went blank.

“
Yes?”

Jean-Phillipe reached into an inner
breast pocket of his expensively-tailored black suit, the bulge
under his armpit moving back and forth in what would be a dead
giveaway in any other place. Here it was a matter of course. What
some saw as an affectation in the big boss seemed mighty practical
to Gilles right about now. Gilles didn’t listen to jealous rumours,
and didn’t judge the supervision any more than he had to. For the
little judging he did, he needed fact, not surmise.

Jean-Phillipe pulled out a long white
envelope, with the familiar black monogram on the upper left
corner. A sharp hiss came from Levain. He laid it on the front of
Gilles’s battered old desk.

“
Good luck to you,
gentlemen.” With his legs comfortably crossed, Chiappe leaned back,
put his hands behind his head, and endured, in spite of the need
for disciplined behaviour, a brief wave of congratulation and
hilarity amongst the employees.

His right foot tapped lightly in air,
which would have been interpreted as a state of high excitement, if
only he had been a suspect.

With hands still trembling slightly
from shock, lack of sleep and sheer hunger, Gilles poked a finger
in the loose corner of the flap and pulled it open. It was a search
warrant for the Duval residence, duly signed, sealed and delivered.
It must have been done very early this morning.

“
How?” His jaw hung slack
for a moment, then his eyes came up to meet Chiappe’s huge
grin.

“
How did you do that?”
Chiappe didn’t need Henri’s translation to get the
question.

“
Hmn.” Jean-Phillipe had a
grin to beat all tomorrow. “Let’s just say that a certain
injudicious individual, who is innocent until proven guilty, and
who has a right to privacy, and bearing in mind that we don’t
disclose information regarding private citizens…well, let’s just
say that after last night, he owes me a favour. A big
one.”

“
Whoa!” Le Bref saw the name
on the warrant. “No, way.”

“
Yes. And I don’t like it
very much when someone tries to assassinate one of my men.” Chiappe
gave them each a glance in turn, biting his lower lip and looking
pleased enough. “Now justify our faith in you and bring us back a
killer—or sign the fuck off on this case. Comprenez
vous?”