Autumn, All the Cats Return
Page 40
In the office next door he heard Molina’s triumphant voice announcing “their” success to their colleagues. He recognized Llach’s and Ménard’s exclamations, Lambert’s surprise. Julie Sadet was probably with them but said nothing. Or didn’t say it loud enough. In the bits and pieces he overheard, he perceived a few familiar and conventional expressions. They were talking about having an aperitif at the Carlit, to celebrate their success. His colleagues would soon be bursting into his office. They would joyfully clap him on the back, congratulate him, tease him in a nice way.
He’d have to smile and rejoice in how things had turned out. After the first glass, it would be easier.
A heavy melancholy was numbing his body and his mind. For each investigation, how many lives were broken, how many bodies lay in the cemetery, and how many souls were locked up behind four damp walls in a prison? And how many wounded hearts were there among the survivors? Josette Vidal, Mathilde Roman, Marie Albouker . . . and little Gabriella. And no doubt others he didn’t know.
Voices were now resounding in the corridor. Only a few seconds left to get rid of these blues and this immense weariness.
He had to get a grip on himself. Quickly.
He thought again about Claire and the idiotic promise he’d made himself. He’d completely solved the puzzle. He didn’t have to fulfill his oath. But he felt no relief.
Then he made himself another promise. A date, a deadline. In a few weeks, by the end of the year . . .
He still gave himself that extension.
If by that time he still hadn’t recovered a taste for living together, the sense of carelessness and the pleasure of loving, he would speak. He’d ask Claire the questions and he’d have the answers. He would take the risk of opening the Pandora’s box of admissions and regrets. The worst misfortunes wouldn’t necessarily emerge from it. You can’t always control your destiny, and therefore there’s no point in trying to anticipate everything. He had to act in accord with his heart and his temperament. And his abilities.
If he couldn’t endure his torments, he’d lance the boil that was spoiling his life.
And then?
Then . . . Insha’Allah!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Philippe Georget was born in Épinay-sur-Seine in 1962. He works as a TV news anchorman for France-3. A passionate traveler, in 2001 he traveled the entire length of the Mediterranean shoreline with his wife and their three children in an RV. He lives in Perpignan. Summertime, All the Cats Are Bored, his debut novel, won the SNCF Crime Fiction Prize and the City of Lens First Crime Novel Prize
Notes
1The OAS was a dissident paramilitary organization that sought to prevent Algeria from gaining independence from French rule during the Algerian War (1954–1962).
2Lit., “Black-Foot” (pee-yay nwar). A French person born in Algeria before it gained independence.
3Section française de l’International ouvrière, a French socialist workers’ party that became the Parti Socialiste in 1969.
4Direction Centrale des Renseignements Généraux (Central Directorate of General Intelligence).
5“And I shit on the mothers who gave birth to them!”
6Juan Manuel Fangio (1911–1995) was an Argentine driver who dominated the first decade of Formula 1 racing.
7“Shithead.”
8“It’s a beverage made with sparkling spring water and natural vegetable extracts . . . ”
9École nationale d’administration, a prestigious school that trains people for careers in government.
10French secret agents working against the OAS.
11Sandwich (Catalan).
12Restaurant or café of mediocre quality
13Celebrated former soccer player and coach of the French national soccer team.
14Lit. “squad lads.” It is one of the oldest civil police forces in Europe.
15A large plain in the interior of Algeria.
16The Barcelona professional soccer team.
17“Very good.”
18The French national holiday.
19A French humorist and actor (1893–1975) who was also a prominent member of the French Resistance during World War II.