First Blood (12 page)

“Sorry to interrupt like this, but the lab sent this over. They said it was urgent.”

The assistant, Christophe, set down his instruments of torture.

“Thank you.”

Those were the first words Eva had heard him say. The young man opened the envelope and removed some printouts.

“These are the test results you asked for, Pauline.”

“Right on time. I’ll read them now.”

Pauline Chadoutaud moved away from the autopsy table and took off her gloves. She ran her eyes over the papers.

“What tests?” Leroy asked.

“I didn’t want to waste any time, so I took samples last night, when the two victims came in. I took them to the lab myself for a DNA comparison.”

“And? Are they related?” Eva asked.

The medical examiner nodded. She lowered her mask, revealing a sad smile.

“Yes. The frozen child is Constantin’s son. The DNA matches.”

“As we suspected,” Eva muttered.

They had all expected this. Now that it was official, they were not any further ahead. They were still missing the key pieces in the Constantin puzzle.

“How can we find the mother?”

The medical examiner’s face held no answer. She looked powerless. “We have no way of determining her identity. Her DNA is not on file anywhere. I also asked for a records search after the child’s father was determined. There is no record of a child fathered by Constantin being born fifteen years ago in any hospital in this region.”

Eva nodded.

“That’s okay. We’ll go over Constantin’s life. In the end, we’ll figure out who could have had this baby.”

Chadoutaud put her mask back on and slid on a fresh pair of latex gloves.

“I’m going to finish the post-mortem.”

Colored dots returned to Eva’s eyes, despite the glasses. She felt herself sway.

“Inspector?” the medical examiner said. “Is everything all right?”

Eva looked at her, at Leroy, and then at the assistant, and for the first time in a long time, she felt the strength drain out of her. She couldn’t pretend any longer.

“No,” she said in a subdued voice. “I need to get some air. Finish without me, okay?”

Out of decency, nobody said anything as the trembling inspector left the room.

Her car was in the morgue’s tiny parking lot, which was squeezed between the faded red-brick building and the dense traffic that ran along the Seine. Eva slammed the door. Above her, the metro roared by, sending out sparks.

Wrapped in her thick leather jacket, which still had the faint odor of smoke from the previous night’s blaze, Eva turned on the car to crank up the heat. Then she opened a can of soda and slipped in a straw, hoping the sweet drink would boost her blood sugar.

But her hands continued to shake.

She watched the snowflakes land on the windshield.

There was no way around it. This case was reviving the dark ghosts of her childhood. She had thought she could withstand the shock, but the baby’s autopsy was bringing back memories of her mother and her twin sister, Justyna. She remembered swinging with Justyna on a tire hanging under a purple autumn sky. Then they were fleeing from one city to another, one apartment to another. There were endless new rooms, new schools, new friends. They never understood exactly why they were running, why their mother was convinced that some day the bad guy would come for them. Now Eva knew that her mother had always been right. Bad guys were always looking for vulnerable children. As in the fairy tales, there were always ogres.

Another train went by, making a deafening noise. Leroy came out of the building. She put on her glasses so he would not see the fever in her eyes.

“It’s done,” he said, sliding behind the wheel. “You didn’t miss anything important. Now the lab needs to finish the tests. So?”

Eva swirled the soda remaining in the can.

“So? To sum up, there is a dead three- to four-month-old baby,” she said in a monotone. “Someone cut his throat and froze him. It was probably his own father.”

He looked at her, clearly worried.

“That’s not what I was asking, Eva. I want to know if you are okay. I’m worried.”

“And I want you to mind your own business, for once. You were the one who was ready to move heaven and earth for the Constantin case, weren’t you?”

“That’s true, but...”

“So, okay, I’ll follow along. We’ll solve this double murder.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Leroy scratched his week-old beard. He knew he should not push Eva when she was in this kind of mood.

“Good. So let’s say Constantin killed his son and kept him as a trophy. What do we do with Larusso’s theory?”

“You mean, the one about it being an ordinary crime of gang retribution?”

Leroy nodded.

“Yes, Constantin deposed the other gang leaders when he set himself up. That must have created some jealousy, to say the least. Some crazy hoodlum could have gotten it in his head to take Constantin’s place. You have to admit that the staging, with the fire and all, was pretty spectacular.”

“Do you think it’s possible?”

“Not really,” Leroy said. “The fire would fit, but the sewn-up mouth, the cut-out tongue, and the missing heart are a lot for a turf war. Even the medical examiner thought it looked like some kind of sacrificial rite. I don’t mean to say that this kind of staging never happens, but it’s not really very common among mobsters. There was some cold determination behind what that man experienced.”

“That’s what I think.”

“So, what now? Even though the child was murdered fifteen years ago, do you think the assassination could have been a revenge killing?”

“That is a theory, based on the information we have. In any case, that is what the mutilation makes me think of. An eye for an eye. In this case, it would be a heart for a heart.”

“And do you think the baby’s mother could have done it?”

“Yes, that is what I think.”

“I wouldn’t like to cross paths with a woman like that,” Leroy said.

He continued to scratch his beard and look into the distance.

“That would explain the ripped-out heart. But why cut out his tongue and sew his lips together?”

“Maybe it’s a message,” Eva said. “To frighten someone? In any case, you’d need to have some guts to do that to someone. Sewing the mouth closed must have taken a long time.”

“Do you really think the whole building knew, but nobody did anything?”

“I’m certain of it, just like I’m sure that none of the tenants will tell us anything. The rule of silence applies here.”

She took another sip of her soda, watching the clock on the dashboard.

“Let’s not get too carried away with conjecture. Let’s get back to the chronology, point by point. Ismael Constantin has a child, a child who is carefully hidden. He doesn’t show up on any records, which means that it was a home birth. Who could be aware of the child’s existence?”

“We keep coming back to the same person,” Leroy said, “The kid’s mother.”

“The mother,” Eva repeated, “whose identity we don’t know.”

“We need to find her. Guilty or not, she’ll have answers.”

“I agree.”

Leroy massaged his temples.

“Wait, Eva.”

“Yes?”

“Aren’t we jumping to conclusions? Even if Constantin killed his kid, nothing proves that he’s the one who decided to keep the baby in the freezer. Are you following me? It’s generally women who do that kind of thing.”

Eva gave him an ironic smile and said, “Yeah, maternal instinct. I will agree that it’s unusual. But that’s not all that’s unusual. You remember that the freezer was in a special room. Constantin even installed an armored door.”

“Maybe this kid was very important to him,” Leroy said. “Or to her,” he added after a few moments of thought.

“If that is the case, we’re going to find out why.”

“We have another piece of information. We know that the child was murdered fifteen years ago.”

“That will help us to identify the mother, if we can find out who he was seeing at that time. Also, that was when Constantin moved to the projects.”

“Do you think there is a link?”

“If there is, then we’ll find it. Where was he before that?”

“From what I know, he was living in Villiers-le-Bel with his mother. He had been arrested several times for stupid things but nothing serious. People think he must have run into trouble with the local gangs, which pushed him to move to Les Ruisseaux. And we know what happened then.”

Eva set her soda down.

“Did you say he was living with his mother?”

“Amina Constantin,” Leroy said. “She’s seventy-four now.”

“Were they close?”

“Somewhat. She was his only family. His father, Hassane Constantin, died when he was a child. That happened in Niamey, in Niger. From what I understand, the country experienced an unprecedented drought, and thousands of people died. His mother emigrated to France with her son. That probably saved their lives. After that, we think they lived in several different places in the southwest before they settled in Paris.”

“Where does she live now?”

“Shortly after her son moved to Les Ruisseaux, she bought a house in Pré-Saint-Gervais, next to the beltway.”

“A house, huh? With what money?”

“Looks like she got a good pension,” Leroy said with a smirk. “Clearly, her son paid for the house. So do you think she knew about the frozen baby?”

“I’d bet my life on it,” Eva answered.

She thought for a minute, and then a smiled crept across her lips.

“She’s the one who will tell us who the kid’s mother was. Do you have her address?”

“We can get it from the Criminal Records Office. But wouldn’t it be easier to bring her in?”

“No, let’s go visit her,” she said in a firm voice. “Right now.”

“She’s an old lady.”

“She’ll talk to me. I’m sure she’ll talk.”

A shadow moved over her face. She pushed up her dark glasses.

“I don’t like it when you’re like that, Eva.”

She gave him a strange smile.

“I know.”

At eleven in the morning, they walked down the narrow Avenue des Marronniers.

The neighborhood was lined with neat hedges. It was far from the industrial wasteland, graffiti-covered walls, and underlying anger of the projects. Here, the facades were impeccable, and the gates were made of wrought iron. Every house had a yard, like a hidden corner of countryside in the middle of greater Paris.

But Eva was feeling a strange sensation.
Again
. There was not much to it. The cobblestone street lined with gnarled trees was unusually silent. The only sound was the muffled tapping of their heels on the snow. There was not even the shadow of a neighborhood gossip in the windows. It made her think of the night before. Even with these nicely fenced-in homes, perfectly maintained and all, she felt the same heaviness and air of expectancy. Huge snowflakes were falling slowly on the bare chestnut trees, but otherwise, there was no movement around them.

With all of her senses on edge, she searched for a human presence in the yards and the windows of the homes they were passing. Finally, she found it—on the other side of the tiny cobblestone square at the intersection of two alleys. Three old women with black, headscarves encircling their wrinkled faces were sitting on a stone bench, seemingly waiting for something. They reminded Eva of vultures. What were they waiting for?

Erwan Leroy cleared his throat, not any more at ease that she was.

“Not very crowded, is it?”

Eva did not answer. She strode purposefully to Amina Constantin’s house, which was on the far side of a dead-end passage. A huge yard framed the home. Her son had taken good care of her.

The three old ladies in black watched them from the other side of the square.

Leroy picked up his pace.

The inspector reached the gate and pressed the bell, remaining expressionless.

“Eva, promise me you won’t go off again like last night, okay?” Leroy said.

“You should wait for me here,” Eva said in a voice straight from a tomb.

“Eva.”

She opened the gate. It was not locked. She walked through the yard, her boots sinking into a carpet of snow. There was the pungent smell of burning wood in the air, certainly coming from a chimney. Perhaps an incinerator.

Leroy surveyed the deserted street. Then, disregarding her instruction, he followed her.

“There is no way I’m going to leave you alone when you’re like that, Eva.”

On the square, the old ladies stood up in unison without looking at each other and started walking toward the dead-end street.

When they passed the first yard, an old man with graying hair was standing in front of the gate. He dropped his shovel in the snow and turned to the house next door, where the door opened in silence. A young woman came out. She had a hand on her round, heavy belly. She gave him a sad smile. They both left their yards and followed the old women.

Together, they wordlessly approached the house on the far side of the dead-end street.

They walked slowly, with purpose.

“Mrs. Constantin? It’s the police.”

The face behind the chained door looked at Eva and Leroy with suspicion. The old woman’s skin was black and shiny, furrowed with deep wrinkles.

Amina Constantin sniffed with scorn. Her glass earrings swung back and forth.

“I already talked to the police. Let me grieve in peace.”

Her voice was hoarse. She looked from the inspector to the detective, clearly indicating that she would not open the door for them.

“We are investigating Ismael’s death,” Eva said. “We have more questions for you. It is very important.”

The old woman shook her head. Her pearl necklace rustled. She sniffed again.

“I’m too tired.”

Eva slipped her face into the narrow opening of the door so that it was close to the woman’s.

“It won’t take long.”

“Leave me alone!” Mrs. Constantin shouted, trying to close the door.

Without thinking, Eva kicked the door. The chain tightened with a metallic clack. Amina Constantin took several steps back and called for help.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Leroy yelled at Eva. “You can’t.”