The Crowded Grave

a hurry.” She reached into the bag on the seat beside her, pulled a driving permit from her purse and handed it through the window to Jules. Then she leaned across to open the glove compartment and took out a plastic folder with insurance documents and the
carte grise
, the car registration. She also handed Jules a laminated ID card with the red, white and blue stripes of the République Française across her photograph.
    “You were right, Monsieur Courrèges. I’m a magistrate. The law should take its course. Please take this woman’s statement and then I will give mine. I freely admit that I was driving too fast and should have stopped for the pedestrian crossing.”
    Florence looked down at her. “When did you start this job?”
    “Monday. First job out of magistrates’ school.”
    “Well, in that case …” Florence paused. “Just be careful in the future.” She unlocked the carriage and wheeled her children off toward Fauquet’s café promising them ice cream.
    “I think I lost my witness,” said Bruno. “But the parking fine stays.”
    “And the speeding ticket,” said Jules. “But I’ll put it in thefifty zone. That won’t be too bad.” He filled out the ticket and handed it to her. “I’ll see you, Bruno.” He got into his van, reversed quickly and drove out of the parking lot.
    “Shall we start again?” Bruno said. “I’m Bruno, not Monsieur Courrèges, and we’re supposed to be colleagues. May I call you Annette?”
    “Yes, please do, and I’m sorry about this.” She tried a hesitant smile. It made her look even younger. Fair-haired and slim, with a thin face that looked pretty now that she was not trying to be fierce, she could have been a teenager. The suit seemed incongruous, as if she were dressing for a role as someone older, a businesswoman perhaps.
    “I understand,” said Bruno. “I was very nervous when I started and probably tried too hard to make an impression. But I don’t think I was foolish enough to try doing it with a car.”
    “That woman with the children, is she a friend of yours?”
    “Yes, but then most people in this town have known me for years and I try to get along with everybody.”
    “It’s just … you have this reputation, Monsieur—I mean, Bruno.”
    He raised his eyebrows. He could imagine what young magistrates might think of him, an ex-soldier who hunted and drank and who tried never to arrest anyone and cared little for the subtleties of modern law enforcement with its counseling and political correctness.
    “Let’s go and have a coffee, and you might want to pay for that ice cream Florence promised the kids,” he said. “She’s a good woman, a teacher and single mother, and worth getting to know. I presume you haven’t many friends yet in the area.”
    She swung her legs out of the car. The skirt of the suit was tight and rather short, and her legs were shapely. He handed her back the car keys and she made to lock the door. Bruno coughed.
    “Perhaps you could fit the car into a single space, Annette,” he said.
    She grinned, got back into the car, reversed and straightened it. “Anything else, before that ice cream?”
    “I hope you have some spare clothes in the car. That suit won’t look so good after we get to the site.”
    “I brought walking shoes, as you advised. And I’ve got a snowman in the back of the car,” she said, referring to the white plastic coveralls that were worn by forensics teams. “What more does a girl need?”
    “This,” he said, handing her the parking ticket.
    Now that the skeleton had been taken away, the grave site had reverted to being an archaeological dig. Bruno noticed that the winch had been placed over the large pit. He told Annette to be careful to follow his footsteps between the trenches and led the way to the place that was still marked off with crime scene tape. Teddy and two other students were digging just beyond it, extending their ditch and still looking for the midden. Bruno leaned over the yellow tape and looked into the empty grave.
    “There’s nothing to see,” said Annette, sounding irritated.
    “The forensics people have been doing their job,” Bruno said.
    “They even took some of the soil, probably wanting to see if the body bled in place,” said Teddy. “They sieved it first, which was decent of them, but found nothing.”
    “Not even a bullet?”
    “I heard them talking,” said one of the other students; he spoke good French, but with a strong