The Crowded Grave

and she did a great job for us in Madagascar. If she’s going to get axed as a magistrate over this, we’d all be very glad to have her back.”
    “I was hoping you’d say that. Why not put out a press release that says just that and make sure that
Libé
picks it up. It’s the least they could do after the character assassination they did on her today.”
    “That’s a very good idea, but why are you calling? Do you know her?”
    “I’m the chief of police in St. Denis, where she made that foolish remark about our foie gras being barbaric.”
    “Speaking for myself, I love the stuff, but aren’t all your people from St. Denis up in arms against Annette?”
    “We are, and we think she made a mistake. But that shouldn’t obscure the fact that she’s a fine person who did good work for you. Right now I think she needs some friendship and support.”
    “Wait a minute. The chief of police of St. Denis? I saw something about you in
Paris Match
, a photo of you in that fire trying to rescue some children. Why don’t we put out a joint press release?”
    “I wouldn’t know how to start.”
    “Leave it to me. Give me your e-mail and I’ll send you a draft. Have you got a number for Annette?”
    Bruno gave her the details. He went back into the house, thought of Isabelle’s visit and put clean towels in the bathroom. Telling himself he should stop thinking like a lovesick youth he looked at the bedroom; he’d changed the sheets before he left to stay at Pamela’s house. Then he drove back to the château to brief the security troops on his soon-to-be-aborted patrol plan. He knew the brigadier would be angry, but Bruno had been in the military too long to see any sense in lying to his own people. So at the end of his briefing, he took the major aside and warned him in confidence that there was a strong possibility of the summit site being shifted to the Domaine. He pointed it out on the major’s map.
    After a bumpy hour in a jeep ride through the woods with the major and two captains from the gendarmes, Bruno came back to the château with his phone buzzing from calls and messages that hadn’t reached him. Once away from the vicinity of the château, reception faded fast, and he made a mental note to get the security troops to double-check that their communicationsfunctioned effectively. The first missed call was from Pamela. He called her back and asked after her mother.
    “This second stroke was very bad,” she said tiredly. “They think there may be severe brain damage.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Even if she gets better, I’m going to be stuck here for some time sorting out her affairs.”
    “Don’t worry about anything here. We’ll take care of it all.”
    “God, I miss you. And Fabiola, and St. Denis,” she said. “How are the horses?”
    He reassured her that all was well with her house and stables and described Fabiola’s dinner, remembering to emphasize the success of Pamela’s apple pie. Her replies were understandably short and distracted. She had weightier matters on her mind.
    The next missed message was from a French mobile phone, the number of which was not in his own phone’s memory. Curious, he called back and heard a familiar accented voice say, “Bruno?”
    “Teddy? You know half the police in France are looking for you? And where’s Kajte?” He went up the stairs to Isabelle’s room in the château and put a finger to his lips as she turned from her desk. He walked across as he listened to Teddy and scribbled down the cell phone number the call had been made from. He scribbled “Trace this—it’s Teddy” on a pad beside Isabelle. She nodded, scribbled “Keep him on the line,” and left the room.
    “She’s with me,” Teddy was saying. “In fact it was she who persuaded me to call you. She borrowed a car from a friend in Paris and came to pick me up. Look, we want to give ourselves up. How can we do that?”
    There was no arrest warrant out for either one of them. Sneaking off the bus to Bergerac was no crime; the students’agreement to undergo explosives testing had been voluntary. Teddy was wanted solely for questioning about how he came by the map and therefore knew where to find his father’s body, something he could only have learned from someone with knowledge of where the killing had taken place.
    “You can give yourself up to me, if you can get through the various patrols that are looking for you,” Bruno said. “But you’ll still be facing some