Box of Bones (A Captain Darac Novel 3)

by Peter Morfoot

  ‘You’re a clever man, Captain… I’m sorry but my short-term memory isn’t all it should be these days. It’s Darac, that’s it. Captain Darac.’

  ‘We’re well aware of your health problems. Would you like some water, by the way? Or coffee?’

  ‘Does either improve short-term memory?’

  ‘I was just wondering if you would like some.’

  ‘I see. Water.’

  Bonbon moved to the cooler.

  ‘Would you not use the cardboard cups?’ Delmas shook his head. ‘My hands are not what they were, either.’

  ‘I’m afraid we’re going to remain on the recent past, monsieur,’ Darac said. ‘You and I had an earlier encounter than that at the cemetery. I’m thinking of the Parade of Lights.’

  ‘I didn’t see you there.’

  ‘But I saw you. Pursuing Michel Fouste. Where did he fit into the gang?’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  Silence.

  ‘Fouste, the man who fell right under the float? And was killed?’

  Bonbon handed Delmas a half-full porcelain cup.

  ‘Fouste – yes. He was drunk.’ He gave Bonbon a nod. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But he knew Halevy, Saxe and Aureuil,’ Darac said. ‘He’d worked with all three.’

  ‘He was a friend of theirs and that’s why I wanted to see him. I knew he would know where they all were. Of course, I didn’t know then what they had done to Sylvie. I just wanted to see them. Talk to them. He took fright when he saw me. Tried to get away.’

  ‘Just to get this absolutely straight – Fouste was not a member of the gang?’

  ‘No.’

  Darac shared a look with the others. If Fouste was out of the frame, it meant that at least one more gang member was yet to be identified. ‘So Fouste never earned a €400,000 share of the reward?’

  ‘Of course not. You were doing well, Captain. But now—’

  Granot stirred like a prodded bull. ‘How many were in the gang, Delmas?’

  ‘You’ll have to work that out for yourself.’

  ‘Pah!’

  Darac still felt a deal of sympathy for Delmas but his patience was not endless. ‘You know, monsieur, I don’t know how I would have reacted in your situation. I think we all feel that. The gang trusted you not to divulge their identities to us. And you didn’t. How did they reward that loyalty? By dividing up your share of the reward among themselves. So it’s hardly surprising that you’ve killed two of them and are looking to kill—’

  ‘I haven’t killed anyone.’

  ‘No? Let me take you back to last Wednesday. Early evening. Do you remember where you were when Alain Saxe was killed? We know, so there’s no point in lying.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘It was seven-thirty. Take your time.’

  ‘I don’t need to. I was on my way back from Villefranche. With a friend.’

  ‘We know you met up with Saxe because somehow or other you had his mobile, didn’t you? And we have an eyewitness, anyway.’

  ‘The ticket girl, presumably. We chatted. A lovely young person.’

  ‘What did you talk about with Saxe?’

  ‘Eventually, we talked about Sylvie. And why they did what they did. Alain said he had never intended to cheat her. But one of the others said it was too good an opportunity to miss and convinced the rest. And so Alain had to go along with them.’

  ‘Whose idea was it to cheat Sylvie?’

  ‘He said it was Carl Halevy’s.’

  ‘Who was conveniently dead then as he is now. You didn’t believe Saxe. You thought it was all his idea. You quarrelled violently.’

  ‘I did believe him. But I called him a coward, and that led to the set-to. It wasn’t a violent quarrel. I grabbed his lapels and we had a scuffle. His mobile fell out of his pocket and landed on the street. He didn’t notice. I picked it up later.’

  ‘And if you hadn’t believed him?’ Darac looked hard into Delmas’s eyes. ‘What would you have done then?’

  Delmas closed his eyes as if he were trying to picture it. ‘But I did believe him.’

  ‘You would have killed him, wouldn’t you? Many would in your position. Especially as the question of paying the penalty for it hardly arises.’

  ‘I am not a violent man.’

  ‘Yet you quarrelled violently.’

  ‘I’ve already said it wasn’t violent.’

  ‘Then the two of you were left alone on the petit train. Shortly afterwards—’

  ‘Shortly afterwards, I got off before Alain was killed and it went into the water. I couldn’t have done that. But I must say that when I read about it, I wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t a good man, Captain. And Sylvie was short of a good man in her life.’ His expressionless eyes conveyed just a scintilla of emotion. ‘Someone to be on her side when she really needed it.’

  ‘Alright, let’s say you did get off before Saxe was killed.

  Then, monsieur, you made your way back to Levens where you were staying with Artur Rigaud, his wife Odette and a bunch of chickens. Right?’

  Delmas’s eyes lowered. ‘It’s a brood,’ he said, at length. ‘A brood of chickens.’

  For a moment, Darac was back at the cemetery gates. Back with the old lady and her charm of edible goldfinches.

  ‘You know about the Rigauds, Captain? How do you know?’

  Granot’s hackles were rising once more. ‘We don’t always get things wrong. However many lies people tell us.’

  Delmas took a sip of water, holding the cup in both hands.

  ‘How did you get back to Levens?’ Darac said.

  ‘On the pillion seat of Artur’s bike. He’s been a brick, that man. And Odette. They are the only ones who have.’

  ‘Were either or both of them in the So-Pro gang with you?’

  ‘No,’ he said definitively. ‘Of course not.’

  Still exercised by questions arising from the timetable, Darac ran a hand through his hair while he thought through his next move. Sometimes, the obvious line was the one to play.

  ‘You could have killed Saxe and then accepted the lift.’

  ‘But I didn’t. When I left Alain, he was angry, yes. But he was alive and well.’

  ‘Did you see anyone board the train after you got off?’

  ‘Yes. A man got in the cab with Alain and they went off together. He’s the one who killed him, of course.’

  Darac nodded as if he bought the story. ‘Of course. And who was that man?’

  His expression giving nothing away, Delmas didn’t answer immediately. ‘I don’t know.’

  Darac was concerned about the way Delmas had had to think about these answers. It was often a sign of lying. Or might his condition be responsible? He felt a change in the character of the questioning was called for; a change of tempo, a different point of attack. He pursed his lips, building the moment. ‘Madame Fabre, would you read the last exchange back, please?’

  ‘“Question: And who was that man? Answer: I don’t know.”’

  ‘That’s not true, is it, monsieur? You knew very well who it was.’

  ‘I… It wasn’t a lie. I didn’t know for certain who it was.’

  ‘Who was it? Come on, you know.’

  ‘I don’t. What point is there in my lying about it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Time to open the questioning to the others. ‘Bonbon?’

  ‘You said you weren’t certain who it was,’ he said, not missing a beat. ‘Who did you think it was?’

  ‘I…’

  Granot now: ‘You’re supposed to be in a hurry. Come on – answer!’

  ‘I would never implicate anyone I wasn’t certain about. Especially in a murder case.’

  Darac nodded. ‘Admirable. But you should name him and let us determine his guilt.’

  ‘Oh? I thought that was the responsibility of the courts?’

  Darac exhaled deeply. One minute, he was making allowances for the man, the next, he was walking into his sucker punches. ‘Let’s t
urn our attention to Jean Aureuil, the man who earned and then split the reward between you all. Or that was the original plan, at least. Right?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You strangled Aureuil because he cheated Sylvie. And you strung him up from the sea wall of the citadel in Villefranche. Right again?’

  ‘I did no such thing. I wasn’t even in Villefranche. I was with Artur and Odette all evening.’

  Granot was unable to hold back. ‘Rubbish. You hung Aureuil up like a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop.’

  ‘No. I didn’t.’

  ‘And you did it as a warning to the one remaining member of the gang,’ Darac said. ‘You want that man to suffer, to cower, to be scared of his own shadow. Because it is that man, and not the conveniently dead Carl Halevy, that you believe ultimately responsible for cheating Sylvie. That is why you are in a hurry to get out of here. You want to find that man and kill him before it’s too late.’

  Another hiatus. But this time, there was a certain conviction in the way Delmas gathered himself before answering. ‘I can’t know for certain whose idea it was, can I? I wasn’t there. I was in prison at the time that decision was made. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know.’

  Another change of tack was needed. ‘On the day Aureuil was murdered, the safe in his apartment was robbed. Do you know anything about that?’

  Delmas played the hesitation card once more. ‘She reported it, did she?’ He nodded slightly. ‘The wife.’

  ‘So you do know something about it.’

  ‘I should. I carried out the robbery. Although robbery is not really the right word. Removal is more accurate.’

  The three officers shared a look.

  ‘You admit it?’

  ‘Yes. But what are you going to do about it, Captain? Send me for trial? I don’t think so. And the prospect of imprisonment is an entirely academic one, as we’ve said. I will be dead long before then.’

  Granot looked unconvinced. ‘You weren’t supposed to survive your first prison term but you did.’

  ‘Pity you didn’t lose some of that gracelessness along with the weight, Lieutenant.’

  ‘Yes? Let me tell you something – I didn’t abandon any of my—’

  Bonbon put a restraining hand on the big man’s arm. This wasn’t the moment to get drawn into meaningless clashes.

  ‘So you removed a DVD,’ Darac said. ‘What else?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘And what is so special about this thing?’

  Delmas reached down to the holdall, and with a halting hand, pulled back the zip. ‘Why don’t you play it and see?’

  Darac turned his computer screen around to face the room. ‘Get Erica,’ he said.

  * * *

  With progress files on a variety of cases, including the Delmas investigation itself, displayed all over the squad room, Darac had no alternative but to ask Flaco, Perand and Lartou to rejoin them in the office to watch the DVD. Including Delmas and Sabrina Fabre, that meant there were nine in the room to see the show. He loaded the disc.

  A casually dressed man of about sixty appeared on the screen, staring back at the camera in what was obviously a home movie. He was a dilapidated figure, flesh sagging like deckchair cloth from his bony frame. Cheeks blushed the colour of lobster claws suggested a history of excess or illness or both.

  ‘Who is he, monsieur?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  No one else recognised the man. He was standing over the grill of an unlit, brick-built barbecue. On it was a rolled piece of white paper tied with a blue ribbon.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Again, I have no idea.’

  The red-faced man on the screen smiled into the camera. ‘Congratulations. It was tough going, wasn’t it?’ The voice was threadbare. ‘But you made it in the end.’ He indicated the rolled-up paper. ‘So here is your diploma.’ After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette lighter. His smile broadened as he held the flame close to it. ‘Now I know what you’re thinking.’ His features collapsed into mock disbelief. “That isn’t the photo, is it? Surely he’s not going to destroy it? Surely everything we’ve done wasn’t in vain?”’ The smile returned. ‘It’s better than that.’ He extinguished the flame and unrolled the paper. It was blank. ‘Yes, my friend – I lied. There never was a photo.’ He reignited the flame. And started to laugh. ‘You did it all for nothing. I’m only sorry I won’t be around to see… your face.’

  As the lit paper crumpled into ash, the laugh became a shuddering, uproarious quaking that turned into a shuddering, uproarious coughing fit.

  ‘This isn’t a snuff movie, is it?’ Perand said.

  The red-faced man was still alive as the screen faded to black. Fin.

  Bonbon had scarcely had time to get uncomfortable in his seat. ‘What was that about?’

  ‘Thirty seconds of rubbish,’ Granot said, turning to Delmas. ‘You risked a lot robbing Aureuil’s safe for that. Why did you? And don’t play around with us.’

  ‘Because I didn’t know until I viewed it that it was thirty seconds of rubbish.’

  Darac ran a hand into his hair. ‘Okay, monsieur – who was the man addressing? And don’t say you have no idea about that. You’ve had over seven years to ponder what the robbery was really all about, haven’t you?’

  ‘I shall disappoint you, Captain. I have no idea who the man was, or whom he was addressing.’

  ‘Let’s roll it again.’

  They watched it three more times. At the end of it, Darac turned to Erica. ‘Could you get a still of the man off the disc and run it through the databases?’

  ‘I’ll do it now,’ she said, rising.

  ‘Lartou? Email the still to Archive, the papers, TV – anyone you can think of.’

  ‘Right, chief. I’ll put the player back in the squad room.’

  Anchoring curtains of her fine blond hair behind her ears, Erica bent to remove the disc.

  ‘Nice to meet you, young lady,’ Delmas said, pleasantly, as she straightened. ‘There aren’t enough women in technical roles in this country of ours. There isn’t one I can think of in security, for example.’

  It was all Erica could do not to reply, ‘Tell me about it.’

  Instead, she said, ‘Oh?’ and, casting a quizzical look at Darac, left with Lartou.

  Flaco spotted Darac staring hard at the floor. ‘Could we stay in here now, Captain?’

  Darac didn’t surface until a moment or two later. ‘If this DVD existed in isolation, we wouldn’t know where to start, would we? But the So-Pro context pushes us well down the road. “You did it all for nothing,” the man said. I think we can all guess what the “it” refers to, can’t we?’

  Flaco nodded. ‘The robbery itself.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Darac performed a double take. ‘What are you—’ The penny dropped. ‘Alright, you can stay, both of you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call four hundred grand each “nothing”,’ Perand said.

  ‘By doing the robbery “for nothing” Red Face meant doing it unnecessarily, did he not, Monsieur Delmas?’

  ‘I… don’t know.’

  Darac nodded, eyebrows high. ‘You don’t know.’ He opened his notebook. ‘Well let’s look at what you do know – what actually happened at the time.’

  In for the long haul, Bonbon twisted sideways in his seat.

  Darac found the entry he was looking for.

  ‘Stop me if I get any of this wrong, monsieur. Contrary to what we believed initially, the gang tunnelled into the bank. Right?’

  Delmas seemed to conclude that there was now nothing to be gained by denying it. ‘Yes.’

  ‘The members went about their allotted tasks – lasering open the safety deposit boxes, breaking into the strongroom and so on. However, at the trial, you maintained that the boxes had all been opened with codes and then lasered to make it appear that that is how they had been opened. This was all part of the strategy to direct the investi
gation at you, the inside man. Box 328 had been left undoctored, you said, because it was the last one to be opened and as time ran out, it was forgotten. I don’t think that is what happened. I think box 328 had been earmarked from the start. You opened it with a code so as not to risk burning the contents, as lasers are prone to do. Obviously, those contents must have been deemed especially important.’

  ‘I thought box 328 had been chosen completely at random. I had no idea what was in it beforehand.’

  ‘But the DVD we have just seen was in that box. Was it not?’

  ‘It was.’

  ‘And you still think it was a random choice? Having seen the footage?’

  Delmas’s eyes seemed to sink even further back into his skull. ‘No.’

  ‘In fact, your suspicions were already raised – or why crack Aureuil’s safe to retrieve it?’

  Delmas made no comment.

  ‘Box 328, specifically – whose choice was that at the time?’

  ‘It was Aureuil’s.’

  Granot was looking more engaged by the second. ‘How did he make that choice?’

  ‘Somebody asked, “Which box shall we leave for them?” He replied, “I don’t know. How about 328? Always been lucky, those numbers.” Something like that.’

  ‘You said you don’t know the identity of the red-faced man?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘But we can work it out, can’t we? He was the keyholder to box 328. What was the name on the keyholders’ list opposite that number?’

  ‘It was a false name.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because it was listed as “Monsieur Hulot”.’

  Laughter.

  ‘Alright, alright…’ Darac was anxious not to lose his rhythm. ‘When you opened 328, what else was in it apart from the DVD?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He brandished the empty DVD case, the Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman picture Notorious. ‘I take it this wasn’t the original case?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was the original case labelled?’

  ‘There was something written on it. But I never saw what it was.’

  ‘Alright, box 328 was opened. What happened next?’

  ‘The contents of the other boxes were tipped out and put into bags. But I saw Aureuil pocket the DVD when he thought no one was looking.’