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

in the punt, almost like a very short mast. Antoine shrugged when Bruno asked him what it might be.
    The punt’s corner seemed to catch on the edge of the sand-bank and it slowed and turned as if heading for the far bank. Bruno heard cheers and whistles coming from the crowd on the bridge as the young man plunged deeper, assuming that the shallows ran all the way to the sandbank. They didn’t, and he sank beneath the surface, then rose, shaking his head and striking out for the punt in a powerful crawl.
    But some eddy or wayward current caught the vessel and pushed it free of the sandbank and into the deeper, fastercurrent where it begin drifting toward Bruno’s side of the bank. Patrice tensed, lifted his rod over his head and cast high and far. Bruno watched as the line snaked out and the hook and sinker landed just on the far side of the punt, and held.
    ‘Got it,’ breathed Patrice.
    The man in the water suddenly stopped. He must have reached the sandbank. He stood and staggered across it to where the punt was fast moving out of his reach and launched himself into a desperate, flailing dive almost as if he wanted to land inside the punt itself. One hand landed hard on the flat rear corner and the punt rocked, shipping water.
    ‘The stupid bastard’s gong to sink it,’ said Antoine.
    As the punt tipped towards him, Bruno caught a glimpse of the woman, her fair hair glinting gold in the sun, her arms outstretched and her head lolling as the vessel rolled. Something else inside the boat flashed a bright reflection, possibly a bottle. There seemed to be some marking, perhaps a large tattoo, on the woman’s torso. Whatever stumpy mast had been rising from the boat had now fallen.
    The swimmer sank beneath the water, his hand slipping from the wood. Patrice gently began to apply pressure to guide the punt towards him. But like some whale leaping from the sea the swimmer launched himself up again for a final, despairing effort. Again his hand just touched the side but once more his grip failed and the punt rocked even more as he plunged back down into the river.
    The woman on the far bank strode back to the car, started the engine and swiftly turned the car so it was heading outagain. She left the motor running as she climbed out, taking a towel from the back seat, and hurried down to the bank to help the swimmer.
    ‘The damn fool broke my line,’ said Patrice, spitting in disgust. The punt gathered speed as it moved into the deeper current and headed for the bridge. ‘That’s my best hook gone and no time to tie another. There’s no more I can do for you, Bruno.’

2
    Bruno asked Dr Gelletreau to follow them as he and Antoine drove separately to Antoine’s campground with its small beach on the river. Bruno passed through the ornate gateway where two stone lions guarded the portal. He crossed the field where the gaily coloured jumps for the gymkhana had already been put in place. Four tents showed the campground’s season had begun. He parked and headed across the open terrace to the wooden chalet where Antoine kept his canoe paddles and life jackets, and where he cooked omelettes and sausages for his guests. Bruno collected a couple of paddles and handed Antoine a life jacket as soon as the boatman joined him. But Antoine was heading for the bar. A fresh Gitane smouldered on his lower lip and he scratched his head through thick grey hair as he pushed aside the pile of paper that comprised his accounts and reached for a bottle of Ricard.
    ‘We’ve got some time,’ Antoine said. ‘Another ten, fifteen minutes before it drifts down here. Want a drink?’ He pointed to the bottle and opened his fridge to pull out a wine bottle filled with chilled water. His eyes squinted against the smoke. He looked an unlikely candidate to sing the role of Jesus, but nobody in St Denis could match his powerful voice.
    ‘Too early for me, thanks,’ said Bruno. ‘But maybe I’ll take an orange juice.’
    ‘Suit yourself,’ said Antoine, adding water to his
anis
and savouring his first drink of the day. Just as well there were no breathalysers on the river, Bruno thought.
    ‘Did you see that tattoo?’ he asked.
    ‘Is that what it was?’ Antoine shrugged. ‘I couldn’t rightly make it out. Looked like something mathematical, triangles maybe. I only caught a glimpse when that fool sent the punt rocking. I thought for a minute he might have been trying to sink it.’
    ‘I suppose he was just trying to help,’