Dominique Manotti: Dead Horsemeat

The news ends. Not a word about Deluc.

That afternoon, when Daquin enters the chief’s office, he walks into a gathering of the top brass all standing around chatting. They immediately clam up and everyone sits down, Daquin in the armchair indicated by the chief, who goes on the attack:

‘You know about Christian Deluc’s suicide, Superintendent?’

‘Yes, Sir. Inspector Bourdier has already consulted me concerning Madame Renouard’s declarations.’

‘Well?’

‘On a certain number of points they corroborate what my inspectors and I have discovered from other sources in the course of our investigation. And which we have included in our reports and interview transcripts. On other points, of course, we have no information.’

‘How do you see the sequence of events?’

‘From what point of view, Sir? I am still on leave pending the results of an internal inquiry. I don’t think that the investigators will come across any professional misconduct on my part, if that is what you are asking me.’

The chief smiles.

‘That’s not what I’m asking you, as you well know. The internal investigation concerning you has been called off, as of now, and your leave cancelled. You are in charge of the Transitex case, and that is why I’m asking you what you think will happen now.’

‘Everything that Perrot’s mixed up in revolves around money laundering. Thirard seems to be behind the Berger and Moulin murders, even if it is difficult to find those who did it. I believe they’re contract killers probably brought in from Italy or Germany. These two cases seem to be linked to the whole Transitex affair and therefore covered by my team. If we decide to extend the investigations to Pama, we should liaise with the Fraud Squad. All the rest is outside my remit. And Nolant’s murder is a matter for Bourdier and the Crime Squad.’

‘Deluc’s suicide?’

‘It is a suicide, isn’t it? Not a murder…’

‘Definitely. The investigation is already over, to everyone’s satisfaction.’

‘It that case, it has no bearing on my team’s work.’ With a smile. ‘Nobody wants to complicate matters.’

‘The chief of the Drugs Squad has just been transferred. Would you agree to take over in the interim, until the appointment of his successor?’

First of all: go back to my office. Regain possession of my territory. Daquin pushes open the door. He is greeted by a cheer that echoes down the corridor. Romero pops a cork, the champagne gushes out and fills the five crystal flutes waiting on the desk.

The four of them drink a toast.

‘To us.’

The atmosphere of the locker room after the match, after a win, when the game looked uncertain for a long time.

On the second bottle, Daquin:

‘Our work isn’t quite done yet. There’s one job left for us to do, and perhaps the most difficult. I promised Le Dem he could keep his horse with him when he left for Brittany. On making inquiries I found the horse belongs to the national stables and they won’t sell it under any circumstances. We’re going to have to steal it.’

Le Dem clears his throat.

‘Maybe we could wait a little. I’d like to think things over for a few days before putting in for my transfer. If I could stay with you… I’m afraid I might be bored in Quimper or Pont-l’Abbé.’

‘That calls for another drink, and besides, we have to finish this bottle.’

Another round. Le Dem raises his glass.

‘When the cavalry drinks a toast, which is often, we say: “To our horses, our women, and to all who mount them”.’

Riotous laughter.