Waking the Wolf (Coup de Foudre)

by Amanda Sandton

  After a break in the journey on the way back, they pulled into the parking lot in front of their office at about four o’clock. Robert came spilling out while Lisa hung back, hampered by the cast on her leg.

  Robert ran to open the door for Sylvie. “What a terrible time you must have had. Eight wolves gone just like that. He clasped Sylvie in a comforting hug, too overcome with emotion to kiss her in the customary way. “I haven’t been back from the landing pad for long. I’ve put the body bags in the cool room in the Veterinary Clinic. I hope that was all right?”

  “That’s fine,” said Sylvie. “I want to start on the first post mortem this evening so we have a definite identification of the poison used.”

  Robert went round to Jean-Luc and slapped him on the back. “Sad day, eh, Jean-Luc? We’ll get these bastards, don’t you worry.”

  She walked across to Lisa who was propped up against the door. The two young women embraced and moved on into the office to make a much-needed cup of coffee for the team. Robert and Jean-Luc unloaded the gear and moved it into the office for sorting and storage.

  No one said much while they drank their coffee. As soon as they had set all four mugs down on the counter, Jean-Luc addressed them all as leader of the project.

  “This time we were able to bring the bodies out with us and can perform the autopsies to confirm Sylvie’s diagnosis. Do you have any comments, Sylvie?”

  “As I said, I’d like to get the first p.m. out of the way tonight. My order of work will be: restock my medical kit so that it’s ready to go, call in at the hotel for a shower, come straight back here and perform the first autopsy – I’d like to call Marcel in so that he can assist me and then help with the others tomorrow if he has time. Eight is a lot to handle on my own. OK?”

  Lisa said that Marcel was already in the loop as they had had to get his formal permission to stow the body bags in his clinic. They had only to give him a call and he would be there.

  “Bien,” said Jean-Luc. “The rest of us will sort and then store the samples in our specimen fridge. We can begin recording the data in detail tomorrow. I suggest one of you tackles the vomit and blood, and the other the fur and anything else. Then, Robert, tomorrow, you and Lisa will have to pack up the samples and send them off to the relevant labs for analysis –”

  Sylvie interrupted, “Jean-Luc, we need to prioritize the DNA analysis of the urine sample. Is there any way we can get it to jump the queue?”

  “What urine sample?” asked Lisa.

  While Sylvie filled them in on the story of the man she had surprised down by the stream and her hopes of identifying him from his DNA, Jean-Luc took out his phone and walked out into the hall to make a call. When he came back in he told them he had contacted the director of the local laboratory used by the authorities in cases of criminal activity and he had agreed to rush the urine analysis through first thing.

  “If you all get on with the tasks assigned to you, I’ll drop the sample off at the lab and pay a visit to the local Chief of Police to report the crime and brief him on the evidence we have so far. Sylvie, I’ll give you a lift to the hotel on my way. If you ring Marcel now, he will be here when you get back.”

  “Give me ten minutes to restock my medical kit and I’ll be with you,” said Sylvie as she opened up her bags to see what supplies she needed to replenish.

  When Sylvie had completed her stock-take and refilled her bag, he reminded them all that they should treat everything that had happened as highly confidential until he had spoken to the Police Chief who would decide what information could be released to the press and what should be held back.

  “I’m sure he will not want the perpetrator put on notice of the evidence we have against him.”

  On the way to the hotel, Sylvie said, “If Madame Bonjean starts on me about how wicked wolves are and how they should all be put down, I shan’t be able to answer politely.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart –”

  “Sweetheart?” asked Sylvie, looking across at Jean-Luc.

  “Well, you are, aren’t you, Doctor Latour?” said Jean-Luc, taking his eyes off the road for a moment and smiling at her. “You are my sweetheart, ma p’tite amie, No?”

  The blood rushed to Sylvie’s face, her blush being all the more intense as her face was still cold from the outside air. She stretched her hand out and gave Jean-Luc a squeeze on his thigh. “It’s good to hear you say it but what were you going to say, my love?”

  “My love; wow! That does brighten up an otherwise horrible day.”

  Sylvie grinned. “What were you going to say about Madame Bonjean?”

  “She won’t dare say any of her anti-wolf nonsense if I am with you. I’ll come with you to your room and keep her at bay.”

  “Do you think Robert and Lisa noticed anything different about us?”

  “We were all much too involved in the Wolf Project for that but they probably will this evening. I think we should all meet at Le Chien Ivrogne for something to eat. It’ll give us a chance to tell the others exactly what happened. And discuss our way forward.”

  24 : Working on the Forensics

  When they arrived at the hotel, Jean-Luc parked the car and escorted Sylvie into the hall. Madame Bonjean came bustling out of her cubby-hole behind the counter, her bright orange hair frizzing about her face.

  “Oh there you are, my child. I was getting so worried about you. I know you said you would be away for the night but the weather has been atrocious and all those nasty creatures –”

  Jean-Luc stepped in front of Sylvie shielding her from the oncoming lecture. He gave her a push towards the corridor leading to her room. “It’s kind of you to worry about Sylvie, Madame Bonjean, but she’s quite safe, as you can see. May we have the key, please?”

  Madame Bonjean was caught with her mouth half open. She shut it with an offended air and turned to unhook the key and pass it to Jean-Luc. He hastened after Sylvie, leaving the old lady muttering to herself.

  Sylvie leant against the door, doubled up with suppressed laughter, her hand over her mouth. Jean-Luc unlocked the door and pushed her in before she could explode. She collapsed on her bed, laughing her head off. Jean-Luc closed the door in case Madame Bonjean could hear the sounds of hilarity. He walked over to the bed and looked down at Sylvie in bemusement.

  “It’s not that funny.”

  “Oh yes, it is. I don’t think she’s used to having her speeches cut short like that. And by such a handsome man.”

  “Shift over and give me some space.” As Sylvie did so, Jean-Luc perched himself on the edge of her bed, still feeling serious. “How can you laugh, sweetheart? I’m all knotted up with the strain of the last twenty-four hours and with the responsibility for what I have to sort out.”

  “But some good did come of it, didn’t it? What about you and me?” asked Sylvie.

  She stopped laughing and sat up, put her arms around him and laid her cheek on his shoulder. Then she rocked him from side to side. The comfort she gave him, made him feel cherished and loved. It gave him strength and resolution. He turned to face her and took her face in his hands. He looked deep into her eyes, eyes which still sparkled with laughter, found the reassurance he was seeking and bent to kiss her soft inviting lips.

  As she answered his need for intimacy, he realized that the strain had hit her, too, and that the outburst of laughter had been a safety valve from the distress she had experienced over finding the whole wolf pack murdered.

  He lowered her arms. “Sylvie, sweetheart, I’d love to stay and help you take a shower but I must follow through with the urine sample and see the Police Chief.”

  She nibbled his lower lip and gave it a little tug. “I know, my love. Just one more little kiss and then you can go.”

  Jean-Luc bounced a quick kiss off her forehead, stood up and made for the door before he was tempted to postpone the unpleasant jobs waiting to be done.

  The four colleagues worked hard for the next couple of hours. When Sylvie ret
urned to the office on her mobilette she found Marcel waiting for her in his lab ready to assist her with the first of the autopsies on the dead wolves. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight for a few moments. “I’m so sorry, Sylvie, so sorry. You really do seem to have chosen a bad time to come and work with us all on le Projet Loup.”

  Sylvie gave him a quick kiss of thanks. “Let’s get on with it. I’m anxious to confirm that it is xylitol. I know Jean-Luc found that bag but we have to tie the bag and its missing contents to the death of the wolves.”

  Marcel walked down to the end of the corridor where the door to the giant cooler stood with Sylvie close behind him. He opened the door and Sylvie gasped at the sight of the black bags taking up the whole of one shelf along the side of the chamber.

  “We were too shocked and too busy to take in the enormity of this deed at the time,” she said. “Seeing them all waiting here in a long line really brings it home. How could anyone do this to a happy well-functioning family of wolves?”

  Marcel closed the door again for a moment and put his arm around her. “Sylvie, you know there is a large body of opinion that the wolves should never have been allowed back into France, particularly amongst the pastoralist lobby. Then there are those men who think it makes them big if they tackle a creature as wild and mysterious as a wolf. But we’ll catch them and the French government is doing everything it can to balance the needs of the wolves and the shepherds.

  “They are paying for shepherds to be employed again, even building huts with solar heating for them, for the breeding and re-introduction of the patous, the special sheepdogs, for the airlift of dog food and, last but not least, paying compensation for animals killed by the wolves. I don’t know what the total cost is but Jean-Luc says it’s in excess of sixteen million dollars a year.

  “France as a country is dedicated to preserving its flora and fauna. People think of the Eiffel Tower, wine and fashion when they think of France but there’s much more to the French way of life than that.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Sylvie. Once I get on my high horse about the wolves, I don’t seem to be able to stop. Sorry for the lecture.”

  “That’s all right. Thanks for the comforting. Shall we start? We’ll have to begin with the alpha female. We found her inside the den with her cubs and so she won’t be frozen solid. I can’t face the cubs today.”

  Marcel opened up the fridge again and Sylvie walked down the line of black bags, reading the labels, looking for the alpha female. She was right at the end. They loaded the bag onto a gurney, Marcel pushed it out into the dissection room where he transferred the bag onto the table and the two bent to their distressing task.

  Meanwhile Jean-Luc had dropped off the urine sample at the lab and then driven round to the Police Station to see the Chief of Police who opened up a dossier and noted down all the information.

  “Pity about the photos being of poor quality but as the man stole the phone, we don’t have them anyway,” the Chief said. “We’ll have to try and trace the empty bag. That might be possible if it has a stock number on it.”

  “And the urine sample?” asked Jean-Luc.

  “That was a bit of luck but it will only be useful if we find the culprit. However, if we do succeed in hunting him down, the DNA could well be just the proof we need.”

  Jean-Luc asked the Chief to keep him posted of any developments in the analysis and said he would forward on copies of the autopsy reports as and when they became available.

  When he finally returned to the office to check on Robert and Lisa, he found that they had made good progress. They had not only put away all the specimens but had made a start on inputting the data. He asked how Sylvie was doing and they said she hadn’t come out of the clinic yet and must still be engaged on the first examination.

  “Right, we all need some downtime after this. I suggest you knock off as soon as you reach a suitable point and we’ll all meet at the Le Chien Ivrogne for dinner. I’ll go and check on Sylvie and Marcel.”

  Jean-Luc looked through the glass panel at the top of the door to the dissection room. He could see Sylvie and Marcel gowned up and masked, hard at work at the table. He tapped on the glass and Marcel looked up and signalled ten more minutes but Jean-Luc stuck his head round the door.

  “Join us for dinner at Le Chien Ivrogne, Marcel?”

  Marcel nodded his agreement and Sylvie looked up, pulled her mask down for a moment and blew him a kiss.

  As the door closed behind Jean-Luc, Marcel said, “So that’s how things stand, is it? Lucky Jean-Luc.”

  Jean-Luc pushed open the door to the bar and the warmth and noisy chatter of a roomful of healthy happy people sucked him in. The strain and responsibility of his job ebbed away as he walked into the crowd. His many copains at the bar patted him on the shoulder as he passed by, calling out, “Salut, Jean-Luc.” He was thankful the police had not yet released the news of the attack on the wolf pack; he couldn’t have stood sympathy and curiosity so soon after the discovery.

  He scanned the room looking for his colleagues but saw that he was the first to arrive. All the tables were occupied; he asked Henri to keep the next free table for him and his friends.

  “Bien sûr,” he said. “Eh mec! Go and get yourself a drink at the bar. You look all in. Been a busy day, hein?”

  Jean-Luc squeezed himself in at the end of the bar, called for a pastis, then leaned his back against the counter and watched the doorway. He wanted to catch Sylvie as she arrived and he needed to forestall attempts at conversation from the other patrons.

  He drank his pastis down in a couple of gulps, needing the alcohol to free up the tension, ordered a refill and continued his vigil. His mind churned over their actions of the past twenty-four hours wondering if there was anything they hadn’t done which they should have done but he couldn’t think of anything they had missed.

  “Eh, Jean-Luc,” Henri called out from the other side of the room where he was clearing a table. “Viens, ta table!”

  Jean-Luc pushed himself off from the counter and made haste to claim the table before it was snatched up by someone else. He had just sat down when the door opened to let in Robert and Lisa. Lisa handed her crutches to Robert and took his arm, the space between the tables being difficult to negotiate with crutches.

  Lisa took the chair on the outside so she had room to stretch out her leg and Robert propped the crutches up in the corner then sat down and took her hand onto his lap.

  Jean-Luc leaned forward. “So, how far did you get with the data?”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” said Robert. “I suggest a ban on work until we are drinking our coffee. We all need to let it go for a while this evening - you and Sylvie more than any of us.”

  “Point taken,” said Jean-Luc, relaxing back against his chair but continuing to watch the door.

  Robert chuckled. “You’ll have some time to wait. They were only just finishing up with the examination when we left and they still had to clean up the dissection room.”

  “Sylvie will be exhausted, working this late after the day and night we’ve had,” said Jean-Luc.

  “Hey, Jean-Luc, what’s this we’ve been hearing from Marcel? About you and Sylvie? That you’re an item now.”

  Lisa gave Robert a nudge. “Leave him alone. Can’t you see how tired he is?”

  “No, it’s all right,” said Jean-Luc. “I was going to tell you anyway – that’s if you hadn’t noticed. We think we’re in love. I say ‘think’ because we’re a little wary. As you know, we’re both getting over previous relationships which left us both in a state of heartbroken shock. So, we’re going slow.”

  “Looks like the real thing to me,” said Lisa, waving at Sylvie as she stood just inside the door looking for them all.

  Jean-Luc glanced across as Sylvie caught sight of him. A bright smile spread across her face, lighting up her eyes and sending a secret message from across the room, just for him. Tired as she was, she looked lovely. He was across the room in a few s
trides to take possession of her. He put his arm around her and led her back to their table where they both sat down together and held hands.

  Lisa rolled her eyes at Robert who said, “That’s what I like to see: two of my best friends getting along together so well.”

  Jean-Luc ordered a round of drinks, getting one in for Marcel, too, and asked for the menu. “No shop talk, Sylvie. Not till the coffee. But tell us the result of your autopsy. Was it xylitol?”

  “We’ve only examined the alpha female so far and, yes, it was xylitol. It’s hard to keep off the subject; it’s all I can think about at the moment,” said Sylvie. “It all keeps going round and round in my head.”

  The waiter arrived with the drinks with Marcel close behind.

  “What’s wrong with you all?” he asked as he took a chair from the next table and sat down. “Why the silence?”

  Lisa laughed, “We’ve banned all talk of the Wolf Project until we have coffee but we can’t think of anything else to talk about.”

  “Let’s face it. There isn’t anything else at the moment. Why don’t Sylvie and Jean-Luc start by telling us everything that happened?”

  Sylvie blushed. “Everything?”

  Lisa gave her a shove. “Not everything, silly! Just about the wolves.”

  Jean-Luc sat up straighter and began their story. From time to time Sylvie interrupted to add details or to correct him on medical points and the other three asked many questions. When Jean-Luc had finished his account they fell into a discussion of how likely it would be for them to find the culprit and have him charged and found guilty.

  Sylvie pointed out they had no real means of tracing the criminal. All the evidence they had: the casts of the footprints, possible fingerprints and the urine sample, would only be any good once they found the man.

  “What about tracing the purchase of the bag of poison?” asked Robert.

  Jean-Luc shrugged. “The Police Chief thinks it a possibility but it’s a long shot.”