Black Diamond

got a call from the office. You know that big Chinese restaurant in Périgueux, the Golden Dragon, beside the Asian supermarket?”
    Bruno nodded. “The one you told me the big boys in Paris were interested in.”
    “That’s the one. It got burned down last night, or rather early this morning. Gasoline bombs through the windows, front and back.”
    “Vinh was hit by a Chinese in St. Denis, and now the Chinese get hit in Périgueux.” Bruno paused. “I’m out of my depth here, J-J. If this is turning into some kind of Asian gang war, I wouldn’t know where to start looking.”
    “Let’s not jump to conclusions. The restaurant could have been firebombed by the aggrieved former owner.”
    “Maybe, but he’d be a brave man, taking on the big boys like that.”
    “A fool, more likely. It could be an insurance scam. The Chinese do a lot of that.”
    Suddenly young Pierre was looming at Bruno’s shoulder, holding out Bruno’s mobile phone. “My father’s on his way, stopping off first for some clothes.” He paused. “I was careful not to get any of this paint on your phone.”
    “Thanks, Pierre,” said Bruno, quickly saving the last number dialed so he’d be able to keep contact with Duong. He didn’t want to lose him like he’d lost Vinh. He turned to Léopold and led the big Senegalese away so they could talk quietly.
    “Remember you told me that Vinh had a bit of trouble last Saturday in Sarlat market? Is that the only other incident?”
    It was, Léopold said, the only one he’d seen. But he’d heard of scuffles in Bergerac and in Rouffignac where Chinese vendors were trying to muscle in on the best locations at the markets. There were only enough customers for one Asian food stall, particularly in winter. In the summer, the big tourist trade might have meant enough business for many stalls. But in winter the Vietnamese knew their livelihood was at stake, and they couldn’t afford the Chinese competition. They would fight back, all of them.
    “And they’re friends, the Vinhs and Duongs, not rivals?” asked Bruno.
    “Some kind of cousins, I think. You’d better ask them,” Léopold said. “And I’d better get back to my stall. All these interruptions are bad for my business too.”
    When he had gone, Bruno spoke quietly to J-J. “Hercule Vendrot was a friend of the Vinh family. He’s murdered. They’ve disappeared after being attacked. Now their cousins are attacked. Smells like a connection to me.”
    “That’s how I see it,” J-J replied. “But we need to get the Duongs to talk, and to find your man Vinh.”
    “That son of theirs, Pierre, was born and brought up here and speaks like a local. If the Duongs have been here that long, they’ll be naturalized by now. Do you think your office could check out their citizenship applications? We might find something useful, other family members and addresses, sponsors, that kind of thing.”
    J-J eyed him doubtfully. “How’s that going to help us with Hercule’s murder?”
    “I don’t know. But Hercule served in Vietnam, had a Vietnamese wife who died young. He may have a Vietnamese daughter somewhere, but if we can’t find her, his will leaveshis money to a Viet scholarship fund. If that’s the connection, we’d better follow it. Unless you have a better plan.”
    J-J shook his head, pulled out a pack of Gauloise filters and flicked his old-fashioned gasoline lighter.
    “The only plan I have is to wait for the DGSE to tell me what clues they find in Vendrot’s papers,” he said, blowing out a plume of smoke. “But I suspect they’re more worried about what little embarrassments he’s left behind than with solving a murder. What about this truffle business he was stirring up? Where does that fit in?”
    Bruno shrugged. “Do you see truffles as a motive for murder?”
    “Depends how much money is involved. But it’s a line I have to pursue.”
    “One thing you should look out for is Hercule’s truffle book, a journal where he recorded all his finds and sales and prices. Everybody in the market knows about it. Apparently he left it to me in his will. I didn’t see it in his house, and it’s not in his car. That DGSE man promised you full cooperation, and he’ll be at Hercule’s house now, going through the files. You could go and ask him for it, make it official.”
    “I’m planning on picking up the records of Hercule’s phone calls. We’ve got a fixed line and a mobile. What about you?” J-J