Black Diamond

majestically to the center of the hall.
    “I suppose you didn’t know Dominique was doing her Christmas shopping in Bordeaux and saw you and your Isabelle together in your hotel last night,” Pamela snapped as his hand found the phone. “She just told me. Well, good luck with your policewoman. But that’s it for me.”
    He had the phone, rose and in one fluid movement tookPamela firmly by the arm and frog-marched her out bodily through the kitchen door before letting her go in front of three very startled old ladies.
    “Listen to me,” he said urgently. “I’ve just been told somebody has killed himself, and I have to get to Ste. Alvère. Second, yes, I was in Bordeaux and Isabelle was there because we were working on the same case. We slept in separate rooms.”
    “I don’t believe you. Dominique saw you huddled together in the bar.”
    “That’s all she saw. I slept alone. Third, I had to get out of that room because there are hundreds of kids who want to believe in Father Christmas, one Father Christmas, not two. I’m sorry I hauled you out here, but that’s why. And I’m even more sorry it has to end this way, but I have to go.”
    “I suppose you’ll try and pin all this on Bill as well,” she said. “You’ve been out to get him ever since he challenged that precious mayor of yours. It was you who got his restaurant closed down, and it’s all your damn politics, Bruno, and I’ve had enough.”
    “Closed his restaurant? When?”
    “This morning. A
huissier
came with a court order to close the only hopeful Green place in the region. They even closed the campsite and made people leave. Some made-up claim about water supplies, but I know that you were behind it, you and the damn mayor. You’ll do anything to win this election and stay in power.”
    “This damn mayor had nothing to do with the arrival of the bailiffs, madame,” came a voice from behind Bruno. The mayor had slipped into the kitchen. “On my word of honor, Bruno and I weren’t responsible for this. I only just heard about it.”
    An odd time of year to have campers, thought Bruno as he began pulling off his red jacket and red trousers. But he had to get to Ste. Alvère. The old ladies were rapt with attention, as if this scene was almost worth growing old for.
    “Damn the pair of you,” Pamela said, and turned to walk past them. “You might as well be one person, the two of you. Your harassment of Bill has been unforgivable.”
    The kitchen door swung closed behind her. The mayor came up and put a hand on Bruno’s shoulder.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “She’ll calm down. But what’s happened in Ste. Alvère?”
    “That investigation you asked me to make into the truffle market,” Bruno said, taking off his false beard. He turned to the kitchen tap and splashed cold water onto his face and looked in the mirror. He was still wearing the Father Christmas hat. He pulled it off and turned back. “I gave their mayor my report this afternoon. It was the market manager, stealing them blind, and I advised him to call in the Police Nationale. Now the manager’s killed himself, and they want me over there.”
    “You did not hear that,
mesdames
,” the mayor said to the old ladies. “This is police business.”
    “That means it will be all over town within the hour,” said Bruno, steering the mayor out of the kitchen to the bathroom where he had left his clothes. “There’s something else you need to know. It looks as if Boniface Pons is up to his neck in this truffle business.”
    “It wouldn’t surprise me,” said the mayor. “I’ve always seen him as a bit of a crook, ever since he came back from Algeria with enough money to build his new sawmill. How’s he involved?”
    “Money laundering, hundreds of thousands in cash, andmaking some special auction arrangement with the manager, who used to work for him.”
    “Do you think he will be charged?”
    “Probably. Certainly he’ll be hauled in and questioned, and the tax people will be all over him about the cash. But without Didier to testify, he might be able to squirm out of it for lack of evidence.”
    “Will the scandal break before the election?”
    “Now you sound like the politician Pamela accuses us both of being,” said Bruno.
    “Like life itself, politics goes on,” the mayor replied. “I thought I’d taught you that.”
    Bruno paused and looked at the mayor somberly, thinking of the mixture of admiration and affection that he felt, with