“But you suggested Houle’s death might have been due to a falling out within the group after Yablonski,” Sauvageot said with some exasperation.
“I might have done that but, if I did, I was wrong to do so,” Burke said.
Sauvageot sighed and sat back in his chair.
“So, tell us, Monsieur Burke, why we are wrong.”
“Do you remember when I told you about the shoelaces that were looped so large?” Burke said.
“Ah, yes, the shoelaces,” Sauvageot said, sounding a little patronizing to Burke’s ear.
“I said no serious cyclist would ever have them looped so large when riding a bike – too dangerous,” Burke said. “So that meant he hadn’t been riding when he died. Or, it meant someone in the group who wasn’t much of a rider killed Houle and didn’t consider doing anything about the shoelaces because he simply didn’t think it was important.”
He looked at Côté who was staring at him, not with anger but with focus; she was following every twist and turn that Burke was offering.
“But since I made those comments, I’ve learned all the members of the group are serious cyclists,” Burke said. “I‘ve seen them ride and they ride with the experience and skill of someone who’s done thousands and thousands of kilometres of serious cycling.”
He didn’t think he’d mention it was Rousseau and not he who had seen Grégoire Holz ride. That would complicate matters at this point. Maybe later, he would clarify.
“So what?” Favreau said.
“It would be natural for them to tighten the shoelaces if they were the ones who set up Houle’s death scene,” Burke said. “They would have spotted the laces tied that way and immediately done something about it. Second nature. But the laces were never changed.”
“So, it was someone else,” Sauvageot suggested.
“It was someone who was not a cyclist, but who was strong,” Burke said.
“Because of the way Houle died, knocked on the head?” Côté said, skepticism sneaking into her tone.
“No, someone without too much strength could have done that, maybe catching him off guard,” Burke said. “The person needed to be strong because he had to move the body quickly to the canal and without allowing Houle’s body to drag. Most people would have needed help or some time or left some marks. But someone very strong could have done the deed very quickly – and speed was of the essence, given the body was placed during daylight when someone might have been looking.”
“But it happened during the storm and it was dark at that time,” Sauvageot said.
“It was dark during the storm, but it was still brighter than at night,” Burke said.
He glanced at Côté who seemed to be accepting his argument, at least so far.
“So, do you have an idea about who killed Houle?” Sauvageot asked.
“I do, but, if you’ll allow me, I’ll bring in the death of the old widower and his dog,” Burke said.
Just at that moment, the door to the office opened and Daniel Bonnier entered, making the room even more cramped.
“Have I missed much?” he asked.
Favreau looked annoyed but said nothing. Côté nodded to Bonnier to move to the corner. There were no more chairs so Bonnier leaned against the only filing cabinet in the room.
Sauvageot barely glanced at Bonnier.
“What about the widower and his dog?” Sauvageot said.
“Did you know the old man liked to snoop?” Burke asked.
“We heard he was curious,” Sauvageot said.
“And did you know he didn’t mind looking at what his neighbours did?” said Burke.
“There were no official complaints against him,” Sauvageot said.
“But they knew he liked to watch what might be going on,” Burke said.
“We heard that.”
“And did you know he liked astronomy?” Burke said.
“What’s astronomy got to do with anything?” Favreau blurted, clearly losing some patience.
“Maybe nothing, maybe everything,” Burke said.
And then he saw that Sauvageot and Côté were right there with him. They knew where he was going and they seemed to be going along with his theory.
“Our widower had a telescope which he kept in his greenhouse overlooking the canal,” Burke said. “With that kind of storm, he wouldn’t see anything in the sky but raindrops. But maybe he was out there looking at something else. Maybe he was checking out the neighbours, hoping to catch an interesting view inside someone’s house. And maybe, as he scanned the area, he spotted someone carrying a body.”
“You’re just searching for straws,” Favreau said.
Sauvageot waved at the local cop to keep quiet.
“It would indeed have been lucky if he’d seen that happen,” Sauvageot said.
“That’s true, but it’s likely there wouldn’t have been much else happening at that time so anything that was going on outside would have been noticeable – if you happened to be looking,” Burke said. “And I believe our widower was in his little greenhouse looking to see what the neighbours were up to. He was probably hoping someone might have gotten a little wet and maybe needed to change clothes and he could catch a glimpse.”
“So, Monsieur Vallette, our widower, saw Luc Houle being moved to the canal.”
“And there was probably another person bringing out the bike to help set the scene,” Burke said.
“I’m with you,” Sauvageot said.
“I’ve been told Monsieur Vallette was also the type of person who liked to know everything that was happening in his neighbourhood.”
Sauvageot nodded slightly, but kept quiet.
“And so Monsieur Vallette’s considerable curiosity got the best of him and he went outside to investigate,” Burke said. “Who else but a truly nosy person would go out in such a storm?”
“If the old man thought something bad was happening, why wouldn’t he call the police?” Sauvageot said.
“Because he wasn’t sure and because if he did, he might have to explain why he had his telescope in his greenhouse and not higher up, out of the treeline, in his house. He might have been a peeper, but he didn’t want the world to know.”
“So, he goes out to get a better view,” Sauvageot said.
“With his telescope, it’s possible he couldn’t see everything because of trees or bushes, and so he goes out,” Burke says. “His dog comes along because he always does. And when the old man gets close enough to get some sense of what’s happening, the people setting up the death scene spot him. They haven’t got a choice now. So, they run and get him – and make it look like the widower and his dog had a tragic accident. All the time, the storm is obscuring most of what they’re doing.”
Burke stopped. Sauvageot sat back. Côté did, too. Favreau looked at Burke, his face slowly registering what Burke had described. As for Bonnier, he was rubbing his chin.
Burke thought it odd that a year before, he could barely put his thoughts together in any way. Now he was telling flics what had happened – or what might have happened.
He had one more point to add.
“Monsieur Vallette might have been an old pervert whose curiosity got him killed, but he wasn’t stupid,” Burke said. “At least, I don’t think he was. It seemed he was someone who kept out of trouble despite his interests in peeping and who somehow maintained a decent relationship with his neighbours – or so a friend of mine tells me. Because he was careful, I think he did one thing before he went outside to check on what was happening a few hundred metres away.”
“What was that, Monsieur?” Côté said.
“He took photos,” Burke said. “He used his telescope to snap a couple of shots just in case he wanted some proof later. You can do that with some of the better telescopes, you know.”
Sauvageot exchanged a look with Cote.
“I don’t think we checked his telescope for photos,” Sauvageot said.
“If the telescope was pointing at the stars,
it might not occur to an officer to see if it had any photos pertinent to the case,” Burke said. “And I expect that Monsieur Vallette always finished a session with the telescope pointing at the sky. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see it aimed at someone’s house. It became a habit to leave the greenhouse with the telescope pointing up.”
Sauvageot pulled out his cellphone and called his station. He ordered a team to rush out to Vallette’s green house and collect the telescope – and then check it for photos.
“Do it as fast as you can,” Sauvageot said. “And let me know what you find.”
He ended the call.
“So, Monsieur Burke, if there are any photos, what do you think we will see?” Sauvageot said.
Burke took a moment. The four officers were staring at him, waiting, wondering if he had anything more to contribute.
“I think you’ll see at least two large men, dressed in dark colours, mid 30s, very tough looking,” Burke said. “For a better description, I think if you look at Bosco Yablonski’s security staff, you might see a couple of faces that show up in Monsieur’s telescope pictures.”
Burke watched as the four police exchanged glances. He had surprised them. Or so it seemed.
“Monsieur Burke, I believe we should talk some more,” Sauvageot said.
Chapter 68
Burke suddenly felt strange, sitting in the small office with four flics. He didn’t mind providing some ideas – in a way, he felt compelled to help catch the murderers behind the deaths of the cyclist and the old widower – but he couldn’t get over the sense he was some kind of informer.
“So, Monsieur, how did you come to know about the individuals behind these attacks on Bosco Yablonski?” Sauvageot asked politely.
Burke was puzzled. He had already been through the basics with the Arles detective back in that city. He knew the police liked to hear a story more than once to ensure the source was consistent and truthful, but he was just providing a tip or two.
He started to feel paranoid.
“Monsieur, I ask again – how did you come to identify the individuals behind the attacks on Monsieur Yablonski?” Sauvageot said.
Burke gathered himself, deciding he would provide the basics, and then he told the flics about the trail of clues the group had left. He mentioned the skills they had to have, the likelihood they were from outside Provence, how he knew one member was from Québec and how they managed to stay under the radar.
It took him 15 minutes to tell his story. During that time, Sauvageot and Côté took an occasional note while Bonnier just nodded sometimes and Favreau continued to look annoyed.
“A university group, that’s interesting,” Sauvageot said.
“Why do you think they would get so deeply involved?” Côté asked.
“I can only guess.”
“So guess, Monsieur,” Côté said.
“I would say one of them or maybe more had some family connection to Oradour-sur-Glane or to something related to it, and that person had somehow been victimized by a relative of Yablonski’s,” Burke said. “As for the person in Yablonski’s family background who might have prompted all this, I’d vote for his great uncle Sébastien.”
And he explained about Sébastien’s involvement with the Germans through making bicycles.
“How do you explain the presence of the young man, Christophe Talbot, from Québec?” Sauvageot said. “Why would he get so deeply involved? There were risks here, very significant risks. What do you think was the potential reward for him?”
“My guess is Talbot has something in his background that linked him to the research the group was doing and, in a way, to Yablonski,” Burke said. “Maybe he also had a distant relative victimized by profiteering by a member of Yablonski’s family.”
That was greeted with thoughtful looks and a couple of nods.
Burke had a sudden idea about Talbot’s link to the graduate group, but didn’t share it.
The flics asked a couple more questions and then said they were done. Burke could go.
He wanted to, but he had a question or two of his own.
“Are you going to drop the assassination charges against the three?” he asked.
Sauvageot looked at Côté and then Bonnier who both nodded. Favreau was left out.
“We haven’t charged them yet with assassination,” he said.
“But back there on the street, you said you were,” Burke said.
“We had doubts.”
“What about attempted murder?”
“Same situation.”
“What about Yablonski’s security people?”
“We will see if Monsieur Vallette’s telescope produces anything,” Sauvageot said.
“What happened at the VIP tent today? I know several people were rushed away by ambulance.”
“That is under investigation,”
“Are you connecting it to the students?”
“As the inspector told you, it is under investigation,” Côté said.
“Was there anything in the VIP tent that said ‘Courtesy of something or other’? Like what had happened before?”
“I think we’re done here, Monsieur Burke,” Sauvageot said.
They were done with him and Burke felt a sense of relief.
He also suspected the three students might be off the hook for the worst charges. However, the limo bombing, the burning of Yablonski in effigy, the use of the Nazi swastika, the robbery of corpses and whatever had happened back at the VIP tent would be held against them.
They would be going to jail if convicted. Burke had no doubts about that.
Burke stood and, without a word, left the office.
Behind him he heard the voice of Sylvie Côté:
“That’s why he is useful.”
Chapter 69
Outside, the late-afternoon sunshine felt glorious to Burke. He was glad to be out of the police building and away from the stale air – and the flics. His interview had left him exhausted
He called André Rousseau.
“Get anywhere with Yablonski and his security people?” Burke said.
“They stayed in the area for another 15 or 20 minutes and then piled into cars and left,” Rousseau said. “Nothing out of the ordinary. There was some kind of impromptu news conference with the mayor and a policeman, but it didn’t last long. The reporters left immediately after that. I stayed around for a few more minutes and then returned to our gîte.”
“When Yablonski and his people were still there, did you notice Yablonski talking much with his security staff?” Burke said.
“Not really,” Rousseau said. “He spent most of his time watching what was happening at the VIP tent. When he talked with anyone, it was with the mayor or the MC or with the tall woman who’s always around him.”
So, nothing special, Burke thought.
Then he wondered about something.
“When he talked with the tall woman, did he initiate the conversation or did she?” Burke asked his friend.
“When I think about it, I believe she was the one who approached him,” Rousseau said.
“And when she talked to him, did she do it privately with no one around?”
“I’m curious where you’re going with this, Paul, but I will say she seemed to talk with him off to the side.”
“Were any of the security staff beside them?”
There was a pause.
“I think the muscleman you had problems with back in Saint-Raphaël might have been close to them,” Rousseau said.
Burke took a moment to ponder Rousseau’s information, and then he said he’d be back at the gîte in a few minutes. After he did a quick blog for Lemaire, they could grab dinner in the Old Town, maybe with Peter and Ginny.
“That sounds good, Paul,” Rousseau said. “By the way, how did your interview with the flics go?”
“Interesting and informative. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Burke ended the call and then phoned François Lemaire.<
br />
“I was hoping you’d call soon, Paul,” the newsman said.
Burke told him about the arrests of the three young men.
“I already know that,” Lemaire said. “It’s been on the wire service.”
“Already?”
“Journalists were anticipating something happening today and so they were ready,” Lemaire said. “There have been all kinds of scenes on television today showing what happened in Vaison.”
Burke remembered the TV crews filming.
Lemaire asked why Burke hadn’t called earlier and Burke told him about the interview with the police.
“What happened with them?” Lemaire said.
Burke boiled down the conversation to a few seconds. As he talked, he could hear the editor typing.
“So, the most serious charges have not been filed,” Lemaire said.
“Correct.”
“ But they’re facing a variety of other charges, right?”
“It seems that way.”
More typing.
“Do you think the trouble is all over, Paul?” Lemaire asked.
Burke knew the newsman was leading him to a conclusion which would probably appear under Burke’s name in a blog.
“I think the races are over, but the investigation involving all the troubles is barely underway.”
“And the crowd in Vaison? It seemed enormous on TV,” Lemaire said, once more leading Burke.
“Huge,” said Burke, too tired to protest being manipulated so easily
Lemaire typed a bit more and then told Burke to call or text that evening if there was anything new to report.
The call over, Burke unlocked his bike.
The ride from the police station to the gîte would be just over a kilometre, but he was looking forward to it.
Maybe it would help him relax a little.
Chapter 70
When he got to the gîte, Burke wasn’t relaxed. If anything, he felt hyper alert. His body was worn out, but his brain was racing.
On the short ride from the Old Town to their accommodation, Burke had an idea as he cycled by the Roman ruins. It was an odd sensation, but becoming a familiar one. Over the last year, he’d be doing something innocuous and, suddenly, his brain would push out an idea that demanded instant attention.
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