The Coldest Case, Martin Walker [famous ebook reader txt] 📗

too. As he entered the police HQ, Bruno’s nose caught the familiar and welcome aroma. No police station could run for long without vast quantities of the stuff and Prunier had won the hearts of his force by insisting that everyone should drink the same excellent coffee that he enjoyed, rather than the usual sludge of most police canteens.

‘Bonjour, Bruno,’ said Prunier, advancing from behind his desk to shake hands and pour Bruno’s coffee. J-J waved a greeting from one of the comfortable armchairs that faced Prunier’s desk.

‘I see you escaped from the Prefect’s meeting almost as fast as I did,’ Prunier said, smiling as he handed Bruno a cup of coffee. ‘My secretary has just heard from her counterpart at the General’s office that this gendarme, Sabine Castignac, is on her way here, accompanied by Commandante Yveline, and in a state of some distress. Apparently Castignac’s superiors in Metz had neglected to inform her that her only brother was in fact her half-brother. She’d only been told that she’d been reassigned to us and to take all family albums with her.’

‘Knowing the gendarmes, that doesn’t surprise me in the least,’ said J-J. ‘They are not always the most sensitive of colleagues.’

Bruno’s eyes widened, startled to hear J-J complain of insensitivity in others. He caught Prunier’s eye and saw the commissaire’s eyelid flutter in what might have been a very discreet wink.

‘The gendarme general here is a decent man and he took it upon himself to brief her more fully before she joined us, so at least we’re spared that unpleasant chore,’ he said. ‘He’s also authorized her to be assigned to Commandante Yveline Gerlache in St Denis.

‘We’ll try to take good care of her in St Denis,’ said Bruno. ‘But won’t the family photo albums be back at her family house?’

‘We’ll find out,’ said J-J. ‘She’s from Bordeaux originally so we might take her home for a family reunion. Obviously we’ll need to question her mother about the identity of the real father, and I’m not looking forward to that.’

‘So not only Castignac but also her parents are not aware of the DNA findings from her brother?’ Bruno asked.

‘Apparently not,’ said Prunier, pausing as they heard a discreet knock at the door. ‘Let’s be as professional and as courteous as possible to this young woman. There’s no need to make the family drama even worse.’ He raised his voice and called out, ‘Enter.’

‘Bonjour, Monsieur le Commissaire, Bruno, J-J,’ said Yveline. ‘Allow me to introduce Sergeant Castignac of the Gendarmerie Nationale.’

Sabine Castignac marched to Prunier’s desk, came to attention with a soft thud of rubber-soled boots and gave a brisk salute. She was wearing full dress uniform, the stripes on her epaulettes gleaming so new that Bruno suspected she’d attached them while travelling from Metz. Her promotion to sergeant must have been very recent indeed. Her blonde hair was tucked at her neck in a tight bun. She was sturdily built with broad shoulders and her skin had a glow of health and fitness that suggested she spent long hours in the gym. Her eyes showed no hint of tears, so whatever shock she had experienced in her general’s office had been overcome. Her hands, properly aligned on the seams of her trousers, looked strong and well-kept. To Bruno’s eye, she was an impressive young woman whose face was dominated by a determined chin and a nose that had at some point been broken and reset. In a man, he’d have thought it a rugby injury, but more and more women now played the sport. He’d raise the idea with her; it might establish a useful bond.

‘Reporting for duty, sir,’ she said, still at attention, in a strong, clear voice with no apparent regional accent.

‘At ease, Sergeant, and please sit. Would you like some coffee?’ Prunier said. ‘I gather you now know what this is all about.’

‘No coffee, thank you, sir,’ she said, taking a hard-backed chair and sitting at attention, her eyes on the wall above Prunier’s head. ‘Yes, I have been briefed on the situation regarding my late brother Louis. I now know that his DNA shows that he’s my half-brother, fathered by an unidentified murder victim some thirty years ago, and not by the man who brought us both up. I’m still trying to come to terms with this news and with the implications for my family.’

‘I realize this comes late but please accept my condolences on the death of Louis on active duty in Mali,’ Prunier said. ‘And my apologies for bringing you this unsettling news about his parentage. Let me introduce Commissaire Jean-Jacques Jalipeau, chief of detectives for the département, and Chief of Police Bruno Courrèges of the Vézère valley. I’m sure we can count on your professionalism in helping us investigate this unsolved murder.’

‘Yes, sir. We always seek to cooperate with our colleagues of the Police Nationale.’ She said the words as if she’d learned them by rote. She glanced at Bruno and added hastily, ‘And our colleagues of the Police Municipale, of course.’ She paused again. ‘I mean, we’re all on the same side.’

Prunier said nothing. J-J raised his eyebrows, doubtless thinking of all the turf battles he and every other member of the Police Nationale had waged against the Gendarmes. They liked to think they were the only police who really mattered, with a pedigree that went back far beyond their formal foundation in 1793 as the shock troops of the French Revolution. In fact they had begun as a highly politicized paramilitary force dedicated to the suppression of the Catholic faithful, the monarchists, feudal aristos and their bourgeois allies and all the other enemies of Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. They had found some obscure soldier who died in battle against the English at Agincourt in 1415, the prévôt des maréchaux Gallois de Fougières, and adopted him to give themselves an even longer and more impressive pedigree. In 1934, after considerable research, Gallois was officially declared to be the first known gendarme to