The Crowded Grave

officer had been blessed with more ambition than common sense. He was jealous of his status, impatient and unpopular with his gendarmes. Bruno had some sympathy for him. The gendarmes were being relegated increasingly to traffic duties, all except their elite units, known as les Jaunes from the yellow stripes on their epaulettes. Duroc, whose epaulettes carried white stripes as a member of the ordinary Gendarmerie Départementale, was one of les Blanches.
    “You know exactly what I’m talking about—taking this shooting case for the Police Nationale.”
    “I’m not responsible for the cases the Police Nationale chooses to investigate. You know that.”
    “You and Jalipeau have always been thick as thieves. You’re not going to get away with it this time,” Duroc snapped. “The magistrate has opened a dossier, and we have a blood sample and the gun.”
    “You only have the gun because Maurice voluntarily surrenderedit.” Bruno kept his voice reasonable, while freshly showered rugby players eyed them curiously as they headed for the clubhouse bar. Bruno hoped Teddy would be a long time in the shower. It would be tricky if he were arrested now. “I handed the gun in to the gendarmerie myself.”
    “I want that Dutch student you tracked down. I don’t suppose you’d know where she might be.” Duroc’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
    Bruno shrugged. “Which case are you investigating—the shooting or the pulling down of the fences at the Villatte farm?”
    “You don’t think they’re connected?” Duroc asked, his voice mocking.
    From the corner of his eye, Bruno saw Teddy emerge from the changing rooms, chatting eagerly with Laurent and the opponent whose nose he had flattened. They were heading for the bar, which meant they would walk right past Duroc. Bruno was not certain if Duroc yet knew Teddy by sight, but he didn’t want to risk it. Casually, he stepped to one side, forcing Duroc to turn to keep him in sight. Now the path to the clubhouse was out of Duroc’s view.
    “I have a security meeting about this summit that’s coming up,” Bruno said. “What do you want me to do if I see the Dutch girl, arrest her?”
    “I want to find out who got shot.”
    “So you’ve had the blood tested already? It’s human and not a fox?”
    “It’s human. Type O.”
    “Have you informed Commissaire Jalipeau of this? You’d better do so fast because I’ll be seeing him at the security meeting, and I’ll be sure to let him know.”
    “Annette, I mean the magistrate, will doubtless be informing him, now that she has opened her own dossier on the case.” Duroc colored slightly as he spoke of Annette.
    Could the upright Duroc, who had never been known to flirt or to be at ease around women, finally be falling for the charms of the new magistrate? Duroc in love would be something to see, but Bruno found it hard to imagine Annette returning his stiff-necked affections. An alarm bell went off. Annette would not open a dossier unless she thought she could bring a prosecution beyond the shooting that J-J was pursuing for the Police Nationale. That spelled trouble.
    “What dossier is that?” Bruno inquired innocently. If it was connected to the shooting, the solution he had crafted could yet unravel.
    “If the magistrate thinks it’s any of your business, she’ll doubtless inform you,” Duroc said, with a smile that indicated he knew all about it and was delighted that Bruno did not.
    “Have you been briefed about these security meetings?” Bruno asked, raising his voice over the first sounds of revelry from the clubhouse.
    “No,” said Duroc, his Adam’s apple suddenly bobbing as he swallowed, not liking to admit that Bruno was part of the inner circle and he was not. “The gendarmerie is being represented by the general from Périgueux. I’ve simply been ordered to stand by for security duties and cancel all leave for the day.”

12
    Bruno had never seen Isabelle like this. He’d known her in passion and in moments of quiet contentment. On one occasion he’d even seen her in tears as she concluded that there was no hope for their affair. He’d seen her handle a weapon as easily as she worked a computer and had watched her fight with forensic but brutal efficiency in a political brawl. He’d seen her elegant and beautiful over a grand dinner that he could barely afford. And had seen her waking in laughter and mock outrage as his dog clambered into their bed to show his own affection for