This Night's Foul Work (19 page)

‘I don't tell lies,
commissaire
. It was in the vineyard.'

‘It was at Laubazac, on the High Meadow, behind the chapel.'

‘Who was attacked, you or me?'

‘You.'

‘So I know what I'm talking about. If I say it was in the vineyard, it was in the vineyard.'

Adamsberg stopped at a traffic light and glanced across at his colleague. Veyrenc was obviously sincere.

‘No, Veyrenc,' Adamsberg went on as he drove off again. ‘It was in Laubazac, on the High Meadow. That's where the five boys came to, from the Gave de Pau valley.'

‘The five louts who came from Caldhez.'

‘Precisely. But they never set foot among the vines. They came to the High Meadow and they came over the path through the rocks.'

‘No.'

‘Yes. They had a rendezvous fixed at the chapel. That's where they attacked you.'

‘I don't know what you're trying to do,' protested Veyrenc. ‘But it was in the vineyard that I passed out, and my father came and fetched me and took me to hospital in Pau.'

‘That was three months earlier. The day you let go of the mare, and
she trampled you. You had a broken tibia, and your father picked you up in the vineyard and took you to Pau. The mare was sold after that.'

‘Oh, come on,' said Veyrenc. ‘How could you know that?'

‘Didn't you hear about every little thing that happened in Caldhez? When René fell off the roof, but by some miracle wasn't hurt, didn't you hear about that in Laubazac? And when the grocer's shop burned down, you heard about that, didn't you?'

‘Yes, of course.'

‘You see.'

‘But, shit, it
was
in the vineyard.'

‘No, Veyrenc. The business with the mare and the attack by the boys from Caldhez were two separate incidents, one after another, and you were knocked out both times, but three months apart, with two trips to the hospital in Pau. You've mixed them up. Post-traumatic confusion, that's what the police doctor would say.'

Veyrenc undid his seat belt and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The car was stuck in a traffic jam.

‘I can't see what you're getting at, I can't at all.'

‘What had you gone to do in the vineyard, when the boys appeared?'

‘I'd gone to see what the grapes were like, because there'd been a storm the night before.'

‘See? It's impossible. Because the attack was in February, and the grape harvest was over by then. The time with the mare, yes, that was in November, you'd gone to check the grapes for the Christmas harvest.'

‘No,' repeated Veyrenc. ‘And anyway, what does it matter? What the
fuck
does it matter, whether it was in the vines or in the high meadow at Laubazac? They attacked me all right, didn't they?'

‘Yes.'

‘Bashed my head with metal bars and slashed my stomach with a bit of glass?'

‘Yes.'

‘So what does it matter?'

‘So it shows that you don't remember quite everything.'

‘Well, I can remember their faces very well, nothing you can do about that.'

‘I'm not disputing that, Veyrenc. You remember their faces, but you don't remember everything. Think about it, we'll talk about it another day.'

‘Just let me off here,' said Veyrenc in a dejected voice. ‘I'll walk the rest of the way.'

‘What would be the point? We've got to work together for the next six months, and you wanted it that way. Don't worry, there's a fireguard poking through here between us. That will protect us.'

Adamsberg smiled briefly. His mobile rang, interrupting the valley warfare, and he passed it to Veyrenc.

‘It's Danglard. Can you switch it on and hold it to my ear?'

Danglard briefly told Adamsberg that the three other teams had come back empty-handed. No woman, old or young, had been seen talking to Diala and La Paille.

‘Retancourt found anything?'

‘No, not much. The house is abandoned. There was a burst pipe last month, and there's ten centimetres of water on the floors.'

‘She didn't find any clothes?'

‘Nothing so far.'

‘So all that could have waited till tomorrow,
capitaine.'

‘It's this guy, Binet. He's called you three times urgently this afternoon, according to the switchboard.'

‘Who's Binet?'

‘Don't you know him?'

‘No, not at all.'

‘Well, he knows you quite well, it seems. He's asking for you in person, urgently. He says he's got something very important to tell you. From the tone of the messages, it sounds serious.'

Adamsberg gave a puzzled glance at Veyrenc, and signed to him to take down the number.

‘Can you call this Binet's number, Veyrenc, and pass it to me?'

Veyrenc punched in the number and held the phone to the
commissaire
‘s ear. The traffic jam was clearing.

‘Binet?'

‘Hard to get hold of you, man from the Béarn!'

The man's booming voice echoed inside the car and Veyrenc raised his eyebrows.

‘Not for you by any chance, is it, Veyrenc?' Adamsberg said in a whisper.

‘No, don't know him,' Veyrenc whispered back, shaking his head.

The
commissaire
frowned.

‘Binet, who are you?'

‘Binet, Robert Binet. Oh, for … don't you remember me?'

‘Sorry, no.'

‘The café in Haroncourt, for Chrissake.'

‘OK, Robert. I've got you now. How did you find out my name?'

‘The Hotel du Coq, it was Anglebert's idea. He thought we should tell you right away. And we thought so, too. Of course,' said Robert, with a touch of pique, ‘if you're not interested …'

The Norman is quick to recoil, like a snail whose horns are touched.

‘No, no, Robert, of course I'm interested. What is it?'

‘There's been another one. And you thought it was serious that other time, so we thought you ought to know now.'

‘Another what, Robert?'

‘Another one, just the same, massacred in the woods of Champ de Vigorne, near the old railway track.'

A stag, for crying out loud. Robert had been putting through urgent phone calls to Paris on account of a stag. Adamsberg sighed, feeling tired, dealing with the thick traffic and the headlights in the rain. He didn't want to upset Robert or the others in the group who had made him welcome that evening, when he had been somewhat sadly accompanying Camille to the concert. But he had had very little sleep these
last nights, and simply wanted to eat and get to bed. He drove in under the entrance to the Crime Squad headquarters, and indicated by a shrug to his colleague that it wasn't anything important and he could go off home now. But Veyrenc, who seemed sunk in his own disturbed thoughts, did not move.

‘Give me the details, Robert,' said Adamsberg in a resigned voice, as he parked the car. ‘I'm taking notes,' he said, but without taking out a pen.

‘Like I said. Massacred. Demolished.'

‘What does Anglebert say?'

‘You know Anglebert, he's got his own ideas about it. He thinks it's some young nutter who's got a bit older but no wiser. The thing is, he's moved from Brétilly, he's over our way now. Anglebert's not sure it's a weirdo from Paris any more. He said it could be some local weirdo.'

‘And the heart?' Adamsberg asked. Veyrenc frowned.

‘Cut out, thrown away, all chopped up. Same thing all over again, listen what I'm telling you. Except it's a ten-pointer. Oswald, of course, he thinks it's a niner, not that he can't count, but he always has to be different. So are you going to do something about it?'

‘I guess so, Robert,' Adamsberg lied.

‘Can you get over here? We'll buy your supper, we're waiting for you. What'll it take you? Hour and a half?'

‘I can't come just now, I'm dealing with a double murder.'

‘Ha, so are we. If you don't call this a double murder, then I don't know what is.'

‘Have you told the gendarmes?'

‘They couldn't give a shit. Thick as two short planks. They didn't even stir themselves to take a look.'

‘And you did?'

‘Yeah, this time we did. The Champ de Vigorne, that's close to us, understand?'

‘So is it a tenner or a niner?'

‘A tenner, of course. Oswald, he just talks a lot of rubbish to annoy. His mother was from Opportune, just by where they found the stag. So, of course, he's showing off about it. But come on, dammit, are you coming up here for a drink or not? We can't wait for ever.'

Adamsberg was trying to think of the best way to wriggle out of the situation, which was difficult, since Robert considered the slaughter of the stags as weighing the same in the balance as two men who'd had their throats cut. In the obstinacy stakes, it seemed that Normans – these ones, at any rate – were as bad as the Béarnais, at least the ones from the Gave de Pau and Ossau valleys.

‘I can't, Robert, I've got a ghost on my hands.'

‘Well, Oswald's got one too, and that doesn't stop him coming out for a drink.'

‘He's what? Oswald?'

‘He's got a ghost on his hands, like I said. In the graveyard at Opportune-la-Haute. Well, it was his nephew that saw it. He's been going on about it for a month now.'

‘Put Oswald on the line.'

‘Can't, he's gone out. But if you come, he'll be back here. He wants to see you too.'

‘Why?'

‘Because his sister's asked him to see you, about the thing in the graveyard. Maybe she's right, ‘cos the police in Evreux, they don't want to know.'

‘But what was it, this thing, Robert?'

‘Don't ask me, I don't know.'

Adamsberg consulted his watches. Almost seven o'clock.

‘I'll see what I can do, Robert.'

The
commissaire
put the mobile back in his pocket, and gazed ahead of him. Veyrenc was still sitting in the car.

‘Something urgent?'

Adamsberg leaned his head against the glass of the window.

‘No, it's nothing.'

‘But he was talking about a
heart
being torn out.'

‘It's a stag,
lieutenant
. Up there, they've got someone who gets his kicks cutting up stags, and that's got them all in a sweat.'

‘A poacher?'

‘No, not at all, someone who just likes killing stags. And they've got a ghost too, a Shade, up there in Normandy.'

‘Nothing to do with us, though, is it?'

‘Nope, not at all.'

‘So why are you going?'

‘I'm not going, Veyrenc. I can't do anything about it.'

‘I thought you seemed like you wanted to go.'

‘Too tired and it's of no importance,' said Adamsberg, opening his door. ‘I'd end up smashing the car and me with it. I'll call Robert later.'

The car's doors slammed. Adamsberg locked it. The two men prepared to separate a few yards further on, in front of the
Brasserie des Philosophes
.

‘If you want,' Veyrenc said, ‘I could drive and you could sleep. We could get up there and back in the evening.'

Adamsberg, his mind a blank, stared at the car keys he was still holding.

C
OMING IN THROUGH THE RAIN
, A
DAMSBERG PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR
of the café in Haroncourt. Anglebert had risen to greet him, standing stiffly, a posture immediately adopted by the rest of the tribe.

‘Sit down, man from the Béarn,' said the old man, shaking his hand. ‘We kept some food warm for you.'

‘Two of you?' asked Robert.

Adamsberg introduced Veyrenc as a colleague, an event which occasioned another round of handshakes, with a little more suspicion, and the arrival of an extra chair. All of them cast quick glances at the striking hair of the newcomer. But there was no risk here of questions about this phenomenon, however unusual. That did not prevent the men from pondering the strange apparition, and working out ways to find out more about the disciple whom the
commissaire
had brought along. Anglebert was examining the similarities in appearance of the two policemen, and drawing his own conclusions.

‘A cousin a few times removed,' he said, filling up the glasses.

Adamsberg was beginning to understand the way the Norman mind worked: in a sly and crafty fashion, contriving to put a question without ever asking directly. The intonation would drop at the end of the sentence, as if for a false statement.

‘Removed?' asked Adamsberg, since, being from the Pyrenees, he was entitled to ask questions.

‘Further off than a first cousin,' explained Hilaire. ‘Anglebert's my cousin four times removed. As for this one,' he said, pointing to Veyrenc, ‘you're about six or seven times removed.'

‘Could be,' Adamsberg conceded.

‘Anyway, he's from your part of the country.'

‘Not far off, true.'

‘Police is full of guys from the south-west, then,' Alphonse asked, without seeming to ask.

‘Before him, I was the only one.'

‘Veyrenc de Bilhc', the New Recruit said, presenting himself.

‘Veyrenc will do,' said Robert, simplifying.

There were several nods to signify that this proposal was accepted. It still didn't enlighten anyone about Veyrenc's hair. That enigma would clearly take years to solve and they would have to be patient. A second plate was brought for the New Recruit, and Anglebert waited until both men had finished eating before making a sign to Robert to get down to business. Robert solemnly set out photographs of the stag on the table.

‘It's not in the same position,' said Adamsberg, to try and stimulate in himself an interest he did not feel.

He was not even capable of saying why he had come at all, or how Veyrenc had understood that he wanted to come.