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Authors: S. Cedric

First Blood (21 page)

BOOK: First Blood
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“Jean-Luc,
that’s enough
,” Ô said, raising his voice just enough to quiet everyone.

He gave Deveraux and Forest a hard look and then turned to Leroy.

“Erwan, look into their pasts. We know that Constantin lived in Niger until he was seventeen and that Reich grew up in Aveyron, but there’s a hole in the time line at that point. List the cities they lived in, where they went to school, where they went on vacation. I want to know if they belonged to any group or cult of any kind, when and where.”

The two inspectors in the back of the room crossed their arms without a word.

Detective Alazard cleared her throat and fidgeted in her chair. She blushed when everyone turned to look at her. She crossed and uncrossed her ample legs.

“I looked into the missing heart thing, like we talked about.”

Deveraux sighed.

“Yes, Perrine,” Ô said.

“It was widespread in ancient rituals. Hunters ate the hearts of their prey to absorb their power. This rite has persisted for a long time, until very recently, as a matter of fact, in some parts of the world. The Aztecs in Latin America practiced human sacrifice, and some Native American tribes are believed to have eaten the hearts of the warriors they killed in combat. The same is true of groups in Africa and elsewhere. It’s a practice that is charged with primordial symbolism. If Mr. Reich was not the person the killer was looking for, that would explain why nobody touched his heart.”

Ô nodded.

“If that’s the case, then his wife Madeleine was the target.”

Ismael, why does it hurt so much?

32

Toulouse

When Christophe Girodon knocked on his office door, all smiles, Vauvert realized that Mira had been telling the truth. The fuss from the day before had risen up the ranks. And now the psychologist was paying him a visit.

“Hi Christophe,” he managed to say.

“Hello Alex,” Girodon said, wearing his familiar smile as he came into Vauvert’s office. “Hey, it’s been awhile since we had an appointment, don’t you think? I know you’re busy with the Loisel case, but if you can, try to free yourself up for an hour.”

Vauvert felt defensive. He did not have anything against Girodon. Quite the contrary. Girodon was a jovial fellow. He was witty and could laugh at everything. He would often join the handful of officers who met at a bar downtown to drink beer and watch rugby on a wide-screen television.

But the Girodon in his office was the company shrink. For the last six years, his job had been to make sure nobody lost it, which could happen quickly in this line of work. Everyone was supposed to see him regularly. He was competent and understanding and did not hassle anyone. He readily signed the papers that allowed the officers to stay on active duty. Yet Vauvert had taken advantage of recent holidays and vacation time to avoid his last appointments. He was not proud of it, and he had run out of excuses.

“Go on, spill the beans. Kiowski asked you to stop by, right?”

“It’s just routine,” Girodon said. “I’m seeing everyone who was involved at the Beaumonts yesterday. Death is never a pretty sight. It helps to talk about it. And you know you were the most exposed.”

Exposed?
No kidding. The decaying bodies came back to him—those bodies and all the others he had deep inside him, along with the suffering and the loneliness he kept so well hidden.

“If I needed to talk, I’d be the first to call you, believe me.”

His lie lacked conviction, and he saw in Girodon’s eyes that it had not worked.

“Okay, let’s say it’s by order of the chief,” the shrink said.

“You see. He hates me.”

“You’re exaggerating, Alex. He’s worried.”

Vauvert shrugged. He knew he was not exaggerating at all. He and Chief Boud Kiowski had a stormy past. They were both proud as bulls and had been butting heads for years. Kiowsky did not like the inspector’s unorthodox methods, and Vauvert loathed his chief’s drive for power.

He had to admit, though, that Kiowski was not a bad chief, even if he ran the division with an iron fist. He was given to rages, but they were always honest and man-to-man. He never knowingly undermined one of his officers—even Vauvert, who had certainly given him a rough time. If Kiowsky had bothered to call Girodon, he really thought it was necessary.

“Alex, I know you’re strong,” the psychologist said. “I have never seen you waver. But what happened at that house yesterday is not nothing. You were attacked. You don’t remember what happened. Am I correct?”

“I see that everyone is talking behind my back,” Vauvert said, brooding.

“Promise me you’ll stop by today. I’m in all day until late. Come whenever you want, and we’ll talk. Then I’ll sign the papers so Kiowski will leave you alone for the next six months. Deal?”

“Yeah, deal,” Vauvert said, still feeling trapped.

A Sphinx smile came over Girodon’s face.
He’s clearly a shrink,
Vauvert thought.

As he was leaving, he turned around and said, “I believe someone is waiting for you.”

Vauvert looked annoyed.

“For me? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Then he remembered his appointment with Jeanne Bonnet, the doctor’s accuser. It was scheduled for eleven.

He looked in the hallway and saw a young woman sitting near the coffee machine. She could not have been anyone else.

“Shit, she’s more than half an hour early.”

That was not a good sign.

33

What struck him first was how helpless the girl looked. She was slouched in the chair. Her hands were on her thighs, and her eyes were downcast, as though she was wondering if she had picked out the right boots.

He observed that she was trying to hide her body under layers of oversized clothing: a pale pink sweater that went down to her knees, baggy black jeans, and high boots. Over her sweater, she was wearing a leather jacket, despite the heat in the hallway. On her hands were fingerless angora gloves. She was also wearing sunglasses.

When she saw him coming toward her, she sank farther into her chair, as though he were a monster who would swallow her.

Am I that repugnant?
he thought.

Despite her attempt to be invisible, the girl was pretty. She looked more like a teenager than a twenty-five-year-old woman. She had dyed black hair that highlighted a carefully deconstructed cut.

“Miss Bonnet?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” she said in a near whisper.

“I am Inspector Vauvert. I’ll be taking your statement.”

She got up. She was so thin, paper-thin, Vauvert thought.

“Follow me,” he said. He wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

He led her to the end of the brick-walled hallway and invited her into his office.

“Have a seat.”

The girl slumped into a chair and examined her fingernails. She did not take off her jacket or her sunglasses. Vauvert also sat down.

“You’re going to have to remove your glasses. I would like to see your eyes while we talk.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry.”

She did as she was told.

As he suspected, she had a good reason to keep her glasses on. Her left eye was streaked with tiny red veins, and her cheekbone was swollen and bruised. Vauvert felt a knot in his stomach. It would have taken a particularly violent strike to do that to her.

“How did that happen?”

“I fell,” she said. “But it’s nothing, really.”

Is that so?
Vauvert thought. He never understood why people always used that pitiful excuse.

“Did you fall on something? That’s quite a bruise you have there.”

“A door. I ran into a door.”

“Oh, a door.”

He sighed. The girl sitting in front of him could not even look him in the eye.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions. You do realize that you are making a very serious accusation against Doctor Levy.”

“What he did to me was serious,” she answered in a tiny voice. “He tried to assault me.”

He nodded and explained that the questions were routine. Where did she live? How long had he been her doctor? Had he previously tried anything untoward? They were simple questions she answered carefully. Once or twice, he thought he saw her smile, and his mind started filling with doubts.

“What did you do that day, before you went to the clinic?”

“I was home. Why?”

“I have to write down your schedule. Do you live alone? Were you alone that afternoon?”

“Um, yes,” she said, pulling on her fingerless gloves.

She was lying. Why?

“Do you have a driver’s license?”

“A driver’s license? No.”

“You said you went to the clinic by car,” he said.

“I said that?”

“Yes. It’s here in the report. So you didn’t go to the clinic by car?”

“Yes. I mean, I went in a car. Someone dropped me off.”

“Who?”

“A friend. It’s not important, is it?”

Vauvert observed her. The girl slouched even more. She sniffled.

“When did you have the appointment with Doctor Levy?” he asked, observing her carefully.

This time, she did not answer right away. It was as though she were expecting a trap. He could see that she was concentrating, that she was thinking more than was necessary. It was clear to him now.
Her beaten-down look was entirely fake.

“You did have an appointment, didn’t you?” he asked.

“But, well, yes. I mean...”

“You do know that we will double-check, don’t you?”

“I don’t remember,” she mumbled. “Maybe I didn’t.”

“A doctor of that status would have a very busy schedule, wouldn’t he? But he still saw you without an appointment?”

“Yes.”

“How long were you in the waiting room?”

“Not that long. I don’t remember.”

“Who did you see when you first arrived?”

“The secretary, as usual. But I...”

The girl was staring at the desk and shifting in her chair.

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” she said, a sob in her voice.

“I’m trying to understand,” Vauvert said. “I remind you that you are filing charges. So you say you saw the secretary first. Did you go see Doctor Levy often?”

“No, from time to time.”

“But he saw you anyway?”

“Yes, that’s it. That’s where he tried to assault me.”

“What did he do, exactly?”

“I already told the story.”

“Remind me,” Vauvert pressed.

“Well, first he grabbed my arm and squeezed. Then he touched my chest.”

“Right away?”

“Yes. I don’t remember that well. It all happened so quickly. He held me against the desk and forced me to kiss him.”

Vauvert crossed his arms. That was not exactly what she said the first time. He still wanted to withhold judgment until he heard the rest of the story.

“Miss Bonnet, has Doctor Levy ever done this kind of thing before?”

The girl shivered.

Finally, a reaction that isn’t faked. Maybe we’re getting somewhere.

“Of course not,” she said, blinking. “Why?”

Because if you are lying, I’d like to understand why.

“What did he do after kissing you?”

“He tried to have sexual relations with me.”

“Yes, but how?”

“He was holding me against his desk.”

“Were you on your back?”

“No. I was sitting on the desk. He had pushed me. He wanted to force me to lie down. I was terrified. He was touching me, and he wanted to take off my panties.”

“Did he manage to do that?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you fought back.”

“Of course I did.”

Vauvert observed her.

“So he wanted to assault you in his office, in the clinic, while people were sitting in the waiting room a few yards away.”

The girl’s face darkened. Vauvert guessed that she was clenching her fists, which were pressed against her thighs.

“Yes. The door was closed. Nobody knew what was going on.”

“Was the secretary still outside?”

Jeanne Bonnet thought about that, once again for just a little too long.

“I think so.”

“You think so? How did you leave the office?”

“I got away, and I was crying.”

“You didn’t see the secretary on your way out?”

“Well, yes, of course. Now I remember. She was there.”

“So she was there while the doctor tried to force you to have sexual relations?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I’ve been to this clinic. The secretary’s desk is next to the doctor’s office. How is it that she didn’t hear anything? Didn’t you scream?”

“I don’t know. I must have tried, but he put his hand over my mouth and whispered that no one needed to know, and if I told anyone, I wouldn’t be believed.”

“He said that?” the inspector asked. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“Is it important?”

“I think it is. Why did he think that no one would believe you?”

Jeanne Bonnet took several deep breaths.

“He said that all he’d have to do is say that I’m an addict, that his word would count more than mine.”

She was looking down at her boots. He was disturbed. He knew that she was lying, but there was something else going on with this girl. There was some tension underneath her victim persona. Maybe it had to do with the black eye. Vauvert could not pin it down.

When he said nothing, the girl looked up.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

She’s not as dumb as she looks.

She was shaking. Vauvert continued.

“I’m not the one who decides. It’s up to you to tell me the truth. After you left his office, how did you get home?”

“I, um...”

Jeanne Bonnet put her mask back on. She was trying to manipulate him again, but it was not working.

“I took the subway.”

“Oh, the subway?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because, I don’t believe there is a subway stop near the clinic.”

“I took a bus and then the subway.”

“Did you wait a long time for the bus?”

She shook her head, looking for a new lie.

“I’m getting tired of this, Miss Bonnet.”

There, he had said it. He was wasting his time, and he wanted to get this over with. He knew he was not fully focused. His mind was elsewhere. He wanted to be investigating the Loisel missing-person case and looking for Madeleine Reich.”

BOOK: First Blood
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ads

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