‘This is good work, but it’s the murder we’re supposed to be dealing with here,

Bruno, not another drugs ring,’ she said. ‘Our elegant young Monsieur Tavernier

seems mainly interested in the drugs charges as a way to put pressure on

Jacqueline and keep detaining her. That and the politics, discrediting the Front

National boys.’

‘It’s all crime, and I get worried at the thought of serious drugs in St Denis,’

said Bruno. ‘And it’s strange to me that Jacqueline would rather be the main

suspect in a murder inquiry than cover herself by admitting she visited some

Dutch men at a camp site.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll brief

J-J

and send off a report to Tavernier. We’ll need J-J’s

signature to send the request to the Dutch police. I presume the Dutchmen have

all left St Denis, so they’re out of our reach?’ He nodded, still standing

before her desk. ‘And I presume you also realise that this could give the girl

an alibi for the period when the murder was committed?’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘It looks as if she left her car at the camp site and then

went out in one of the Dutch vans. Look at the page of the visitors’ book, and

the times of various vehicles coming and going while her car was there. You

might want to ask the Dutch police to check whether any of those lads had

connections with the extreme right.’

‘You sure you want to remain in the Police Municipale, Bruno? We could use

someone like you in the real police.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry, I

didn’t mean that the way it came out. It’s not that I think you are not a real

cop, it’s just that it’s clear that you have talents that could be used at a

national level. You’re a natural, and

J-J

thinks the same.’

‘Yes, and every time I see him

J-J

tells me how much he envies my life here,’

Bruno protested, laughing to take any sting out of it. ‘I’m just useful for my

local knowledge, you know that.’

‘He just says that. He thinks the world of you, but

J-J

loves his work. He’s

dedicated to what he does, even when there are things about the work that he

hates.’

‘Like Tavernier, you mean? And the politicking?’

‘Don’t change the subject, Bruno. Why not transfer to the Police Nationale? Make

a career of it. I won’t say you’re wasted here, but look at this new evidence

you brought in about the camp site. Nobody else thought of that. And then

tracking down the photo. You ought to be in the detectives. We need people like

you.’

He heard something like urgency in her voice. This was not light banter. Bruno

paused for thought, studying the pent-up energy in her pose. She was sitting

squarely, her back forward from her chair, her arms on the desk and her jaw

slightly tilted. She was making him an invitation, he thought, and not

necessarily about police careers. So how could he answer her without sounding

defensive or complacent?

‘I’m happy here, Isabelle,’ he said slowly, not knowing if she would understand.

‘I’m busy, I think that I’m useful, and I live in a place that I love among a

lot of people that I like. It’s a way of life that pleases me and I can

understand why

J-J

feels wistful whenever he sees me. I like him, but I would

not want his life.’

‘You don’t want more?’

‘More what? More money? I have enough to live as I please and I even manage to

save a little. More friends? I have many. More satisfaction in my work? I have

that.’ Bruno stopped himself, knowing from the look on Isabelle’s face that he

was not saying this well. This was a strange conversation to be having in a

police office. He started again. ‘Let me tell you what I think, Isabelle. I

think there are two kinds of people in this world. There are those who do their

work for eight hours a day and they don’t enjoy it and don’t respect themselves

very much for what they do. And then there are those who don’t see much

difference between their work and the rest of their lives because the two fit

happily together. What they do to earn their living doesn’t seem like drudgery

to them. Around here there are a lot of people who live like that.’

‘And you’re saying that I don’t?’ she challenged, looking at him intently.

‘You’re able and ambitious and you want to follow your talents as far as they

will take you. You like challenges. That’s your nature and I admire it.’ He

meant it.

‘But we’re different people with different priorities and our lives will take

different trajectories. That is what you’re saying. Am I right?’

‘Trajectories? Now there’s a word. Our careers will probably take different

trajectories because you have that kind of drive.’ He got the feeling he had

suddenly been drawn into a different kind of conversation altogether, where the

language was different and the meanings had shifted.

‘Drive for what?’ she persisted. He noticed her fingers were clenched around her

pencil.

‘To get to the centre of things, to fulfil your talents.’

‘You mean I want power?’ She was looking almost fierce. He threw up his hands.

‘Isabelle, Isabelle. This is me, Bruno, and yet from my side this feels like an

interrogation. You’re putting words into my mouth and I like you too much to get

into a confrontation.’ Her fingers seemed to relax on the pencil. ‘What I’m

saying is that you’re a dynamo, Isabelle, you’re full of energy and ideas and

you want to shape things, to change things. I’m the kind of person who likes to

keep them the same, but I have been around long enough to know that people like

you are needed, probably more than people like me. But we have our uses too.

That’s how le bon Dieu made us.’

‘All right, Bruno. Interrogation over,’ she said, smiling and laying the pencil

down on the desk. ‘You promised to take me to dinner, remember?’

‘Of course I remember. Around here we have a choice of bistro, pizza, not very

good Chinese food, several restaurants serving the Périgord cuisine you are

probably tired of by now, and a couple of places with a Michelin star, but we

would have to drive to those. Your choice.’

‘I was thinking of something less formal, more in the open air like a picnic. I

liked your cooking.’

‘Are you free this evening?’ She nodded, suddenly looking happy and very young.

‘I’ll pick you up at seven. Here, or at your hotel?’

‘The hotel. I’d like to bathe and change.’

‘Okay. Don’t dress up. Picnic-style it will be.’

He had to rush, and Bruno hated that. There were the final details to clear with

the company that had the contract for the three firework displays of St Denis –

the June eighteenth event that really launched the season, the usual national

celebration on the fourteenth of July, and the feast day of St Denis at the end

of August, which the town celebrated as its birthday. The company had wanted

60,000 euros for the three events, but with a little trimming of the display and

a lot of negotiation he managed to reduce the bill to 48,000, which was just

short of his 50,000 euro budget. That meant more money for the sports club fund.

Then he had to call all the local businessmen to persuade them to take out their

usual ads in the tournament brochure for the tennis club, and each had to

grumble about the bad season and cancellations, but finally it was done. A

tourist had lost a purse and he had to take a statement. He had to brief the

Mayor on the latest developments in the murder case, fend off two interview

requests, and check over the Mayor’s deposition describing the riot. He just had