‘That seems strange,’ the Mayor mused. ‘These Arab families tend to stay

together – the old ones move in with their grown children. But a Harki and a war

hero? Maybe he was worried about reprisals from some young immigrant hotheads.

You know, these days they think of the Harkis as traitors to the Arab cause.’

‘Maybe that’s it. And because he wasn’t religious perhaps some of these Islamic

extremists could see him as a traitor to his faith,’ Bruno said. Yet he didn’t

think Muslim extremists would want to carve a swastika into someone’s chest.

‘But we’re just guessing, Sir. I’ll have to talk to Momu about it later. It must

have been a chore for him and Karim, driving over every day to pick up the old

man for his dinner and then taking him home again. Maybe there’s more to Hamid

than meets the eye, and perhaps you could ask Momu if he remembers any details

about that old football team his father played in. Since the photograph has

disappeared, it might be significant. I think they played in Marseilles back in

the Thirties or Forties.’

‘I’ll do that, Bruno. Now I must go back inside and collect my wife.’ The Mayor

turned and held up a fist as he often did when he had prepared a mental list of

what was to be done, unclenching a new finger to illustrate each different

point. He always had at least two points to make but never more than four,

probably because he would run out of fingers, thought Bruno, with a rush of

affection for the old man. ‘I know you understand how delicate this could be,’

Mangin said. ‘We’ll probably have a lot of media attention, maybe some

politicians posturing and making speeches and marches of solidarity and all

that. Leave that side of it to me. I want you to stay on top of the

investigation and keep me informed, and also let me know in good time if you

hear of any trouble brewing or any likely arrests. Now, two final questions:

first, do you know of any extreme right or racist types in our Commune who might

conceivably have been guilty of this?’

‘No, Sir, not one. Some Front National voters, of course, but that’s all, and I

don’t think any of our usual petty criminals could have carried out an act of

butchery like this.’

‘Right. Second question. What can I do to help you?’ The fourth finger snapped

to attention.

‘Two things.’ Bruno tried to sound as efficient as his boss when he spoke to the

Mayor, aware of a sense of both duty and affection as he did so. ‘First, the

Police Nationale will need somewhere to work, with phone lines and desks and

chairs and plenty of space for computers. You might want to think about the top

floor of the tourist centre where we hold the art exhibitions. There’s no

exhibition there yet, and it’s big enough. If you call the Prefect in Périgueux

tomorrow you can probably persuade him to pay some rent for the use of the

space, and there’s room for police vans too. It might be useful for people to

see a reinforced police presence in the town. If we do that, they owe us. It’s

our town property so they’re on our turf, which means they cannot bar us

access.’

‘And the second thing?’

‘Most of all, I’ll need your support to stay close to the case. It would help a

great deal if you could call the Brigadier of the gendarmes in Périgueux and

also the head of the Police Nationale, and ask them to order their men to keep

me fully in the picture. There’s good reason for it, with the political

sensitivities and the prospect of demonstrations and tension in the town. You

know our little Police Municipale does not rate very high in the hierarchy of

our forces of order. Call me your personal liaison.’

‘Right. You’ll have it. Anything else?’

‘You could probably get hold of the old man’s military and civil records and the

citation for his Croix de Guerre faster than I’ll get them through the

gendarmes. We know very little about the victim at this stage, not even whether

he owned the cottage or rented it, what he lived on, how he got his pension, or

whether he had a doctor.’

‘You can check the civic records tomorrow. I’ll call the Defence Minister’s

office – I knew her a bit when I was in Paris, and there’s a chap in her cabinet

who was at school with me. I’ll have Hamid’s file by the end of the day. Now,

you go back up to the cottage and stay there until you can bring Karim back to

his family. They’re getting worried. Any trouble, just call me on the mobile,

even if it means waking me up.’

Bruno went off comforted, feeling rather as he had in the Army when he had a

good officer who knew what he was doing and trusted his men enough to bring out

the best in them. It was a rare combination. Bruno acknowledged to himself,

although he would never admit it to another soul, that Gérard Mangin had been

one of the most important influences in his life. He had sought Bruno out on the

recommendation of an old comrade in arms from that hideous business in Bosnia.

The comrade happened to be the Mayor’s son. Ever since, Bruno the orphan had

felt for the first time in his life like a member of a family, and for that

alone the Mayor had his complete loyalty. He got into his car and drove back up

the long hill toward Hamid’s cottage, wondering what arts of persuasion he might