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

the rungs to watch as Jacquot began slicing the cardboard with the precision of a master chef. ‘This what you want?’ he called, displaying a dirty but folded plastic sheet from inside an anonymous and medium-sized box. ‘Looks like oil and something else, paint maybe, still sticky.’
    ‘Could it be blood?’
    ‘I’d say so.’ Jacquot came out of the container and handed the box to Bruno.
    While he waited for the forensic team to come, Bruno called Father Sentout to ask where the baptismal records for St Philippon were kept. At the bishop’s office in Périgueux, he was told. And that would include the records for the privatechapel at the château? Indeed it would, the priest replied, but why did Bruno want to know?
    ‘Just checking names and dates. The baptismal records have the full names, not just the ones on the birth certificates?’
    ‘Yes, and in old families they often add the names of the godparents,’ Father Sentout answered. ‘Is there anything in particular I can help you with?’
    ‘Can you find out the names of the various private confessors Madame de la Gorce used? Presumably they’d be the ones who did the baptisms.’
    ‘Usually they would, yes. St Philippon always came under this parish so I have pretty full records. How far back do you want me to go, Bruno?’
    ‘1945, if you can, Father.’
    ‘Goodness, that will mean going through my predecessors’ records. Is this urgent?’
    ‘I’m afraid so.’ He paused. ‘By the way, Father, you seemed to be shocked by something as we were in the minibus this morning. Did you recognize someone at that lunch party?’
    ‘No, no, I was just feeling tired after the service,’ the priest replied, rather too quickly.
    Bruno rang off, toying with the thought of Father Sentout having known Béatrice in her professional capacity on some discreet visit to Paris. He found it hard to believe. His housekeepers were renowned for their piety and their homely looks and there was no gossip about the priest. Bruno had never understood the Church’s rule of chastity, but if anyone kept to it he’d have bet it was Father Sentout.
    Resolving to pursue the matter with him in person, heturned to the folder he’d brought from his office with today’s mail and the two faxes he’d been expecting from Isabelle. The folder contained printouts of the photos he’d taken with his phone of the family tree inside the bible at the Red Château. Something about the names tickled his memory. Gondrin, Pardaillan, Antin and Mortemart were all family names that recurred in the family tree. When he looked at his notebook he saw that they were also the names of the various companies involved in the Count’s project at Thivion.
    That reminded him. He called France Télécom’s directory inquiries to get the number for the architects in Paris, asking for the office manager. He identified himself and inquired about plans for a sports hall in St Denis.
    ‘I can’t find any record of such a commission,’ said the woman in Paris, after a long pause in which Bruno had heard the clicking of computer keys.
    ‘It would have been commissioned by César de Vexin and it might come under the holiday village project you designed here.’
    ‘Nothing under that name nor under St Denis.’
    ‘Try St Philippon.’
    More clicking. ‘Nothing for that, either.’
    ‘It might have been commissioned by Antin Investments.’
    ‘We have a commission on file for a place called Thivion.’
    ‘That’s the same company,’ he said, and waited again until she came back on the line, her voice suspicious.
    ‘Who did you say you are?’
    He explained, gave her the phone number of the
Mairie
and suggested she check his credentials and his mobile number.
    ‘It’s not you I’m suspicious of, it’s them,’ she said. ‘We wouldn’t do any more work for them. We’re in litigation because we haven’t been paid yet for the Thivion job. And a sports hall is not something we’ve ever done.’
    ‘The plans for the sports hall they showed us had your stamp on them.’
    ‘That’s fraud,’ she said. ‘Can you send us a copy of the plans showing that? We’ll add it to the lawsuit.’
    Bruno called Michel at the public works office to pass on the news, to learn that Michel had done some sleuthing of his own, starting with the
Département
’s own architectural office in Périgueux. They had found the amount of insulation in the plans for the sports hall to be bizarre. They’d put