Yet another note. And another instruction for Kadeg.
“Go round to see the teacher and talk to her. She must be able to explain. Any other visitors?” Dupin asked.
“The island doctor from Sein came to see him twice…”
“Antoine Manet?” That was unexpected.
“You know him?” It came across more like I wouldn’t have thought you up to it.
“What did he want from Professor Lapointe?”
“How should I know?” Madame Corsaire said indignantly.
Dupin was still dumbfounded. “When was this?”
“Once in April, then again in May, I think. I’m not absolutely sure.”
“I’ll deal with him,” Kadeg interjected. His eyes sparkled.
“I’ll talk with Manet myself, Kadeg.”
“That…” Kadeg forced himself to swallow it.
“How long was Antoine Manet there?”
“Maybe an hour, not longer.”
“Do you know how the two of them got to know one another?”
“How should I know that?”
He needed to talk to the island doctor straightaway.
“Do you have keys to the professor’s house?”
Triumphantly she held up a small key that must have been in her hand all along.
“Did the professor always lock his door?”
“Yes, obviously an old habit from the capital.” She sounded sympathetic.
The funny thing was that no key had been found on the professor.
“Good, that’s it for now, Madame Corsaire. Thank you very much.” And with those words, Dupin was off again.
“Bring the key straight back to me,” Madame Corsaire said.
“I think the police will hold on to it for a bit.”
Dupin headed for the narrow unpaved track that led from the house. He had his phone already in his hand. There it was, Antoine Manet’s number. It took a few moments before the call was answered:
“Hello?”
“Dupin here.”
“Oh, Commissaire, I’ve just heard. I knew Monsieur Lapointe. This thing is getting crazier still.” Manet sounded deeply upset.
“You visited him twice in the last few months.”
Dupin let the sentence hang in the air. Manet didn’t seem at all irritated.
“Yes, we both belong to the Patrimoine et Héritage Culturelle de la Cornouaille organization, for looking after and maintaining the cultural and historical roots of the region.”
There were countless organizations like that in Brittany, in every region, every village. The most disparate types of people got passionately involved in them.
“These two visits, was there a reason for them?”
“I wanted him to become the new chairman. He had lots of knowledge and a lot of spare time.”
“And?”
Dupin had reached the end of the path. On his right was a simple house with a raised ground floor in the mundane “nouveau bretonisme” style from the seventies and eighties, narrow with a very steep roof. It appeared to have been painted recently; the white shone pristinely.
“He wanted to mull it over. I think he would have said yes. He was as crazy as I am. And lots of others here. He was interested in everything local and regional. He knew every path on the Crozon peninsula, every tree, every stone, every building, and above all: every story about every tree, every stone, and every building, Which dwarf, which fairy lived where and what they got up to. We got along well. He passed on some material to me.”
“Material?”
“I collect anything to do with our island here. It’s going to be a big library.”
Dupin was silent for a bit. As corny as it seemed, it sounded plausible, very plausible for Brittany.
“How long have you known one another?”
“About five years, as long as he’s lived on the peninsula.”
“And every now and then you met him alone, I imagine, not just at meetings?”
“Apart from the two meetings over recent months, maybe three times. No more.”
“Did he seem in any way different when you last met?”
“Not at all. No.”
“Nothing that seems somehow relevant, now, in hindsight? Something that could have been keeping him busy?”
“No.”
“Do you know if he was still doing research? Privately, on the quiet?”
“I don’t think so. At least he never mentioned anything. Last year I asked him for advice about a chronic viral illness one of the islanders had; he was a real genius in his field.”
“So I believe.”
“My feeling is he wanted to draw a line under his past when he came to Brittany. He didn’t even have a computer. Just a cell phone.”
“You know for certain that he had a cell phone?” He had forgotten to ask the neighbor that.
“I can send you his number if you want.”
“Please.”
“Do you think the professor could have had anything to do with the two women?”
“I had been hoping you were going to tell me something about that, at least if they had known one another?”
“Very unlikely, I imagine. But I don’t know. I’ll ask around on the island. We have a lot of money in the organization, to be shared out; we got a large sum from the region. The chairman has some influence on how the money is spent.”
It took a moment for Dupin to react.
“You think this could be about some cultural or historic project? About handouts? Money?”
“I have no idea in particular.”
“Was there an argument about something in the organization? Allegations?”
“No, as it happens. But of course you can’t see into people. In Brittany least of all.”
Dupin was baffled. But it was an interesting point. But how could that have any connection to Kerkrom and Darot?
“I’m sure I’ll come back to that. Thank you, Monsieur Manet.”
“And I’ll get back to you if I come across any possible connection between the three.”
“Good.”
Dupin hung up.
He got a move on. Kadeg and the crime scene men would be here shortly. He clambered up the steep steps to the house doorway.The key stuck and the door hadn’t been locked. That obviously explained why the key hadn’t been found on the professor. The perp had been here, therefore. In Lapointe’s home. As he almost certainly had been in the cases of Darot and Kerkrom. They would test the key thoroughly for fingerprints or any other clues, but Dupin didn’t expect the killer to have left them a gift.
Dupin went all through the house for a first sweep, and found nothing unusual. Apart from the kitchen and bathroom, the house was filled with shelves from floor to ceiling, all of them filled with books, books, books, books; there had to be thousands of them. The shelving was fitted to the rooms, every centimeter properly used. Literally everywhere, in the dining room, the adjacent living rooms, as well as in the three rooms upstairs: a bedroom, a tiny room with a cot, and an office.
Dupin had already finished his tour by the time the two men from the crime scene team arrived. Kadeg was on the phone outside.
He indicated the key to his colleagues.
“We’ll sort that out straightaway.” The elder of the two men set down the case with their work tools. A pragmatic attitude, the solution right at the scene. Dupin liked that. “I’m upstairs if you need me.”
Dupin took the stairs. He wanted to take another, more thorough look around Lapointe’s office in peace and quiet. An outsize desk in front of the window, a magnificent view of the beach, the cliffs, the bay. Even the desk had to serve primarily as a storage space for books. A simple wooden chair, and in front of it, on the desktop, a small area of free space. No notebooks, no paper, nothing. Not even a telephone. A little patch of empty space, which looked strange, because it was the only one in the entire room.
The books on the desk covered a variety of topics and genres: novels, lots of history
books, biographies (Charlemagne at the top), but not one factual book on medicine or biology, nor any scientific magazines.
Two piles of magazines, on history, philosophy, or cultural topics. Particularly high up, and clearly read, were several books on Breton and regional topics. One pile lay at a slanting angle, while all the others were in solid upright piles. Dupin came closer to look at them, without touching anything. He put his head on one side and read several of the titles on the spines. Celtic Myths and Legends of Finistère, Ancient Armorica, The Revolution in Brittany, The Christianization of Finistère, The Iroise Sea as a Cultural Space.
Dupin’s glance flitted over to the shelves. Mallarmé, Flaubert, Apollinaire, Maupassant, Baudelaire, the French nineteenth century.
It was only just now that he noticed that between the two piles on the table there was one book lying at an angle, The Life of Sea Mammals in Brittany.
That was interesting. Dupin pulled it out carefully and flicked through it. First came the whales, many types, then orcas, and dolphins. He flicked more slowly. He was looking for something: marks, underlining, notes in the margin. Whatever. There were impressive photos of dolphins. He put the book back. It was quite clearly no book for experts, but for the layman.
He hadn’t the faintest idea whether or not one of these books or magazines could give something away under the right circumstances. Their investigations were now relying on a coincidence—in combination with a stroke of inspiration. They needed luck. But obviously the killer would have removed anything that would have given him away. Anything obvious, including notes. But perhaps on a second glance, there might be something. The killer hadn’t had time to do a complete search. He might have missed something.
“Commissaire? Where are you?”
Kadeg plodded up the stairs. “Madame Corsaire wants to see you again,” he said. “And I’ve already spoken to the woman from the citizens’ movement, the kindergarten teacher. The professor was effectively the citizens’ movement’s scientific advisor. Amongst other things he helped them send water samples from the Camaret harbor area to a laboratory and evaluate the results.”
“And?”
“They regularly found noticeable concentrations of certain toxic materials. Always at approximately the same level. The use of the noxious substances was not reduced as a consequence.”
“And?”
“The citizens’ movement is submitting more documentation to the authorities. The Parc Iroise is supporting them. Some of their staff have taken their own samples, with the same results.”
“Has there been any escalation?”
“How do you mean?”
“Arguments with people from the facility where the boats are dealt with? With the boat owners? With Charles Morin?”
“The kindergarten teacher didn’t mention anything like that. Just that there had been reports in the local press.”
“Was it widely known that Professor Lapointe was helping the movement?”
“Yes, there was even a quote from him in the last article. How devastating these materials were, stuff like that.” Kadeg pointedly cleared his throat. “I also, as ever, asked about any connections of any kind between the movement and Kerkrom and Darot—to no avail. The kindergarten teacher had only heard of Kerkrom by name. She’d never heard at all of Darot.”
“And did she say anything about Morin?”
“Only that some of the boats belonged to him.”
“Anything more precise?”
“No. Her anger was primarily directed at the people who run the facility.”
“And what does the neighbor want with me?”
“I don’t know.”
They needed to move forward with something, finally get their hands on something concrete. “Kadeg, I want to find out from a few people where they were this morning. Think of all of them as potential witnesses and check everything they say meticulously. Get Riwal to help you. As many people as you need.”
“Who are we talking about?” Kadeg asked.
“The harbormistress, Madame Gochat, claims to have been in her office the whole morning, apart from nipping into the fish hall from time to time—somebody must have noticed that; Jumeau, the fisherman from the Île de Sein, says he was at sea from four thirty A.M.—for the man with the multiple affairs it would have been easy to make a detour to the peninsula.” Dupin flicked through his Clairefontaine. “The boy who found the dolphin researcher saw Jumeau at seven twenty-four, not far from Sein. That is the only thing we’re sure of so far.”
“He could have killed Darot beforehand, and Professor Lapointe afterward.”
It was true.
“And let’s also talk with Pierre Leblanc, the scientific chief at the parc.” Dupin had seen him around two o’clock. There would have been enough time before that.
“I’ll speak myself to the pirate, who was also on Sein last night, Captain Vaillant.”
Put so generally the operation seemed a bit casual, the commissaire knew, but as far as he was concerned it didn’t matter.
He already had Morin’s statement. He had allegedly met up with his chef bolincheur at Douarnenez harbor at ten, but there was no confirmation.
“And, most important, ask this Carrière if he has witnesses. Anyone who saw him and Morin this morning at the harbor. Otherwise, their alibi is no good. And also, find out how long they claim they stayed there.”
“Noted,” Kadeg said. “We’ll let him feel our teeth.”
“Find this man who came to see the professor once a month. And have the crime scene team make a list of all the titles and topics of all the books here on the desk and in the office.”
“Are you looking for something in particular, Commissaire?”
Dupin didn’t go into it. “Professor Lapointe had a cell phone. We need to get our hands on his itemized bill as soon as possible. And find out if he used the phone for email, if he had an account.”
“Noted too.” This time it didn’t sound quite so euphoric.
“And work on getting the call logs of Darot and Kerkrom.”
“Yessir!”
“Is Madame Corsaire waiting for me in her house?”
“She’s outside, in front of the door.”
Dupin left the office without another word.
In an instant he was standing in front of Madame Corsaire. She sought out Dupin’s eyes with an inscrutable look on her face. The old lady hesitated for a second, then seemed to give herself a shove.
“I’ve just spoken to my husband on the phone.” She sounded seriously worked up. “He thinks there’s something I absolutely have to tell you. Something private. About the professor.”
“You should tell me everything, Madame Corsaire.”
“Over the past few months he would receive occasional visits from a young lady. A very young lady.”
There was no allegation, no condemnation, no shock in her voice. Quite the opposite. What seemed to be troubling her was the fear of being indiscreet.
“Did you know the woman? Do you know who it was?”
“We’d never seen her before.”
“Can you describe her?”
“Long hair, nothing more. And young … What do you think? We weren’t spying on him, you know. Our houses aren’t quite that close together. My husband just thought she ought to be part of the picture. Maybe the young woman might know something.”
“You would help us with a few general details of her appearance, madame.”
“Probably dark hair, not very tall. Pretty, I think. I only ever saw her briefly. She wore longish jackets, usually with a hood.”
That wasn’t much help.
“Do you think she didn’t want to be seen? That was why she wore the hood?”
“That was the impression it gave.”
“When did she start calling on the professor?”
“My husband and I asked ourselves that too. I think since the end of April. My husband thinks it wasn’t until May.”
“And how oft
en was she there?”
“We think five times. More or less. For how long each time, we can’t say. But they weren’t short visits.”
“Did you see her car?”
“No.”
Dupin pricked up his ears. “What does that mean?”
“There wasn’t a car. Once I saw her walk past our house on her own. Once with the professor.”
“How did she get here?”
“Maybe somebody dropped her off. Or she took the bus to Saint-Hernot and then walked the rest of the way. We do that ourselves sometimes. Even though my husband still drives.”
“Or…” Dupin broke off. Or she came by boat.
Something had suddenly occurred to him.
“I’m going to have to check on something. I’ll be right back,” he said.
Madame Corsaire stared at him, perplexed.
Dupin took a few steps along the grassy path with its innumerable rabbit holes, and called Nolwenn. She would have it figured out within a minute. And so she did. An email almost immediately arrived on his phone, with the attachment Dupin had been hoping for: a photo.
“Is that her?” Dupin held his phone up to Madame Corsaire’s face. “The young woman with long hair who visited the professor?”
The forensic lad in Brest had taken it. Laetitia Darot’s facial features hadn’t been harmed, she was easy to recognize from the photo.
Madame Corsaire’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, that’s her.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Laetitia Darot had known Philippe Lapointe. She had come to visit him several times at home in Lostmarc’h.
That was it, just what they needed; now they had a direct connection between the women and the professor, even if they didn’t yet know what sort of a relationship they’d had.
The problem was: Who could or would know that? Who knew anything at all about these meetings? And would they reveal the background? The most likely person, Céline Kerkrom, was dead. But nonetheless they had to do everything they could to find out.
After his conversation with the neighbor, Dupin exchanged a few more words with Kadeg. In their investigations of the professor’s call list they now needed to look for possible conversations with Darot. Had he and Darot been in contact long? Had they spoken often on the phone? These could be further points to fill out the character of their relationship.
The Killing Tide Page 18