The Devil's Cave: A Bruno Courrèges Investigation (Bruno Chief of Police 5)

this ridiculous allegation against the Chief of Police, who would appear to me to have a substantial case against you, Madame, for defamation. Since you insisted on filing this allegation with my office as a formal and sworn statement, you do not have the right to withdraw it as you please. You may wish to consult your legal adviser on that, and now please wait outside. Sergeant, please see that they don’t leave and confiscate their mobile phones. And have this Mademoiselle Ballotin brought here forthwith. I want to see her sworn statement about these events and she is not to consult with her employer in the meantime. Is that clear? Very well, I thank you Sergeant, and well done.’
    When just J-J, the Mayor and Bruno were left with him in the room the
Procureur
said to J-J, ‘I should have listened to you.’ Then he turned to Bruno and said, ‘My apologies, J-J told me he suspected a set-up. I should never have listened to the old woman, but she’s a social acquaintance of my wife and came to my home first thing this morning with her statement already written out and signed. She insisted I witness it.’ He looked down at his colourful clothes. ‘It’s supposed to be my day off.’
    ‘No harm done, sir,’ said Bruno.
    ‘Harm has been done. In tracking down J-J and your Mayorhere, half my office knows that you were being suspended on charges of theft. Word like that spreads fast, which is why you should bring an action against that silly old woman for defamation. I’ll be glad to testify on your behalf. It will never go to court, of course, but you should get something in settlement.’
    J-J cleared his throat. ‘If you’re right about these rumours spreading from your office about the Chief of Police, you may want to consider putting out a statement that clears his good name.’
    ‘Good idea. I’ll issue a press statement. Now let’s all take a seat and Bruno, if I may call you that, tell me what this is really all about and start at the beginning. Why are they trying to shut you up and blacken your name?’
    Bruno’s phone vibrated. He saw it was his counterpart from the police in Sarlat.
    ‘Excuse me, sir. This call may be relevant.’
    He answered, to be told that the widow who sold the goat’s cheese had recognized the photo of the Arab who had bought her goat. Bruno thanked his colleague and closed his phone.
    ‘That’s a new complication,’ he said. ‘It looks as if the son of the Lebanese defence minister is involved in this, just as his father is about to come here to sign some multi-million-euro contract with one of the Count’s companies.’

29
    As soon as the
Procureur
had been briefed, Bruno excused himself, borrowed Sergeant Jules’s private phone and went out to the square to tell Isabelle of the Lebanese connection. He had no idea exactly how this would complicate the investigation, but he knew it would. The Bentley was still there, presumably the car that had brought the Countess’s sister, which meant Foucher would not be driving his Jaguar and so could not be breathalysed. Bruno wanted Foucher’s DNA, even though he knew the lab would take at least a week to produce results. When he returned Jules’s phone, he suggested taking Foucher and Madame de la Gorce a glass of water. That should yield an adequate sample.
    The market was still in full swing. He stopped at Jolliot’s electronics shop and bought a pre-paid phone for fifteen euros as a way to stay in touch with Isabelle. As he passed the church, he felt a hesitant touch on his arm. He turned to see Brigitte Junot, dressed in traditional widow’s black. The circles under her eyes were almost as dark. Three days since Junot’s death and it looked as if she hadn’t slept since. Without a word, she led him into the darkness of the church and to a pew in a side chapel where Francette sat with her head bowedas if in prayer, her features covered by a large black head-scarf. She was dressed as a farm girl, wearing jeans, a shapeless sweater and muddy rubber boots.
    ‘Francette needs your help,’ said Brigitte. ‘She’s scared stiff. Can you take her somewhere safe?’
    ‘You’ll have to tell me everything, Francette, if I’m going to be able to help,’ he said, taking off his cap and sliding in alongside her.
    ‘It’s not a story for church,’ she said. Bruno glanced at her mother and raised his eyebrows. She nodded and murmured that Francette had told her everything. Meanwhile Bruno was thinking that his