Peter May - Cast Iron

All he said in response to the préfet was, ‘I agree.’

‘Of course,’ Hélène said, ‘you haven’t always used your precious new science to resolve some of these cases. I’m not sure that should be allowable under the terms of the bet.’

‘Sometimes new thinking is just as important,’ Enzo said.

‘Thinking outside of the box?’ said the préfet .

‘No,’ Enzo said. ‘Taking the box away altogether. Why put up walls to contain free thinking?’

The préfet said, ‘Quite so.’ And he looked around the room. ‘I don’t see your friend Simon here. I do hope he’s still holding the money for our wager in his escrow account, and hasn’t skipped off and spent it on a round-the-world cruise.’

‘He’s more likely to have spent it on some woman,’ Enzo said darkly. Then forced a smile. ‘I’m afraid he couldn’t be here today.’

‘Ah, the great man himself, engaged in debate no doubt about the resolution of the Raffin murders.’ Charlotte’s voice, edged lightly with sarcasm, cut into their conversation. Enzo turned to see her, still in her coat, Laurent supported in the crook of her arm, and his heart lifted at the sight of his young son.

He took him immediately and kissed him, and bounced him gently up and down in his arms. ‘I didn’t know you were here,’ he said to Charlotte.

‘I’ve just arrived.’ She turned her smile on the préfet and the chief of police. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

Enzo made slightly awkward introductions, trying hard to avoid Hélène’s eye.

‘Ah, yes, the second and third parties in the famous bet,’ Charlotte said. And she smiled. ‘You must be getting worried.’

‘He still has two — very difficult — cases to go,’ Hélène said.

‘Perhaps. But who would bet against him now?’ And she turned to Enzo. ‘I need a word. In private.’

Enzo turned to look for Nicole and, as if by instinct, she materialised beside him, arms outstretched to take baby Laurent. ‘On you go,’ she said. ‘I’ll look after him.’

Almost reluctantly, Enzo let him go. He made his apologies to the others and he and Charlotte headed out into the hall. ‘Let’s go outside,’ she said, and he followed her down the winding stairs to the studded door that opened on to the pavement. They weaved through the tables of the pizzeria to stand at the kerbside and she said, ‘It’s on for tomorrow.’

‘Blanc?’ Enzo’s eyes opened wide in amazement. ‘How did you manage it?’

‘It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. The prison authorities usually require several weeks’ notice and prior security clearance. You’ll need to bring your passport with you.’ She paused. ‘You’ll be presenting yourself as my assistant.’

Enzo smiled wryly. ‘A little old to be your assistant, amn’t I?’

She returned a smile that never quite reached her eyes. ‘Enzo, you are a little old for everything.’

The barb did not fail to draw blood, and his smile faded. He said, ‘I’ve asked Nicole to look after Laurent until you get back.’

‘Until I get back? That makes it sound like you won’t be with me.’

‘I won’t. I’m going to ask Kirsty to follow us down to Lannemezan in her car, and then the two of us will head on over to Biarritz. She has an appointment with a consultant to discuss Alexis’s hearing problem.’

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. ‘Alexis has a hearing problem?’

‘Apparently. They’ve seen several doctors. He seems to be suffering from partial deafness, but no one can explain why or what to do about it.’

‘Oh dear,’ Charlotte said, although there was not the least trace of sympathy in her tone. ‘I suppose you’ll be staying at Roger’s place down there? In the apartment?’

‘That’s right.’

‘It’s a beautiful house,’ she said, and Enzo realised immediately that she was letting him know that she and Raffin had stayed there. ‘Used to be his wife’s family home. Shame they turned it into a chambres d’hôtes . It’s a special place.’ She smiled at him, eyes wide, satisfying herself that she had inflicted a little more pain. Enzo returned her gaze, marvelling at her ability to hurt him so easily. And she added, ‘I must say, it was very convenient for Roger’s wife to die the way she did.’

Enzo frowned. ‘Convenient?’

‘For Roger.’ Charlotte hooked her arm around Enzo’s and led him slowly along the pavement. ‘Marie inherited everything after her parents died in a boating accident in Africa. Then, just five years later, she’s dead, too, and it all goes to Roger. I would call that very convenient.’

‘Not if you lose the person you love at the same time,’ Enzo said. ‘I wouldn’t call that very convenient at all.’

‘Perhaps. But there was no love lost between Roger and Marie, you know. They were still married, yes. But in name only. Had she lived, I think there might very well have been a divorce in the offing.’ She stopped and sighed. ‘I have often wondered just how closely the police examined his alibi.’

Enzo’s brows creased in consternation. ‘He was at an editorial meeting at Libération .’

‘Apparently. But, as you very well know, Enzo, in such matters timing is everything.’

Enzo did, but found himself instinctively shying away from the implication that the father of his daughter’s baby could have murdered his own wife. He searched Charlotte’s eyes for some hint of the motivation that might have made her put the thought out there. After all, she had been Raffin’s lover, too. But she just smiled and laughed and changed the subject.

‘So, how are things progressing with the Lucie Martin case?’

He shrugged, and they turned and headed back along the pavement, casting shadows among tables that were rapidly filling up for lunch. ‘There have been developments.’

She turned a look of curiosity towards him. ‘Oh?’

And he told her about the damage to the skull, and the forensic anthropologist’s suggestion that it could have been the cause of death. ‘In which case,’ he said, ‘strangulation would have taken place post-mortem, ostensibly to make it look like she’d been killed by Blanc.’

Her face hardened. ‘Obviously you knew this when you came to Paris the other day.’

‘Yes.’

‘But you never thought to tell me then.’

‘You never asked. And, anyway, we had other things to talk about.’

He saw her jaw set. ‘Yes, we did.’ She stopped and turned to face him, almost confrontational. ‘So why do you still want to see Blanc?’

‘Because there’s a connection between Blanc and Lucie that goes beyond the letter.’

‘What the boyfriend saw?’ Charlotte could barely keep the scepticism out of her voice.

‘Not just that. The whole tone and content of his letter has always suggested to me that there was more to it.’

‘Ah, yes, the famous Macleod instinct.’ She pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘So you still think Blanc might have done it?’

‘I’m keeping all options open.’

‘And is there another suspect in the frame?’

Enzo nodded. ‘The boyfriend, of course. Jilted by his childhood sweetheart for a lowlife ex-con, he kills her in a fit of jealousy.’

She frowned. ‘From my recollection, he was in Paris the weekend she went missing.’

Enzo shrugged his shoulders very casually. ‘As you very well know, Charlotte, in such matters, timing is everything.’

She glared at him for a moment, then her face cracked into a smile and she laughed. ‘Touché, Enzo. Touché.’

‘Monsieur Macleod!’ Nicole’s voice was raised to carry above the noise of the diners below. Enzo and Charlotte looked up to see her on the Juliette balcony outside Enzo’s apartment, still holding Laurent. ‘I just got a text from Sophie. Apparently the van’s broken down on the motorway. They’re not going to make it.’