The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

driven seven hundred and twenty kilometres in the past nine days. Paris to St Denis was nearly six hundred. If he had made a second journey to kill Fullerton, he could not have done it in his own car.
    From behind the desk, Sergeant Jules shook his hand and said Yveline was in the interview room with the suspect. J-J was using the old Capitaine’s office as a work room. Bruno handed over the
Contrôle Technique
and explained. ‘I suppose he could have hired a car and done it that way,’ he concluded.
    ‘Only if he knew some place that let him have a car for cash,’ said J-J wearily. ‘We’ve been through his credit cards and bank account. There’s no sign of any odd transactions.’ He took off his glasses and eyed Bruno. ‘Is it you I have to thank for that phone call we got last night from the
Procureur
’s office?’
    ‘What phone call?’ Bruno asked innocently.
    ‘Your friend Annette Meraillon, asking if it was true we were questioning a murder suspect.’
    ‘My friend?’ said Bruno. ‘She’s a vegetarian feminist who thinks I’m a dreadful old meat-eating dinosaur like you. Anyway, she’s too junior to be assigned a case like this.’
    ‘One of these days you’ll go too far,’ J-J grumbled. He tried to glower at Bruno but his heart didn’t seem to be in it.
    ‘How’s Valentoux bearing up under the interrogation?’ Bruno asked.
    ‘He seems fine, obviously has great faith in French justice. He keeps saying he didn’t do it, has a little cry when he thinks of his dead friend, and then dries his eyes and answerseverything we throw at him. He’s been very cooperative, hasn’t even asked for a lawyer. I was going to release him this morning when the
juge d’instruction
arrived, but Yveline was keen to have another crack at him and I don’t want to start an argument with the Gendarmes. The
juge
is talking to him now.’
    J-J turned to a young woman sitting at an adjoining desk and handed her the inspection station receipt Bruno had taken from Valentoux’s car and asked her to explain its significance to the magistrate in the interview room. Then J-J looked at his watch. ‘I wonder what your friend with the bistro is doing for his
plat du jour
?’
    ‘Ivan usually makes
côtelettes de porc au céleri
today.’
    ‘So what are we waiting for?’ said J-J. He lumbered to his feet and headed for the door at a pace that belied his bulk. A bowl of
potage de légumes
later, mopped up with a fresh baguette and washed down with a glass of Ivan’s house red, J-J sat back and looked at Bruno.
    ‘So you can put this Murcoing guy at the murder scene at the relevant time, in a van with a forged sign, and you say he’s gay, so that could be a connection with Fullerton. I ran his name through the records when you rang. He’s got two convictions for car theft, another for hunting without a licence, and he was questioned last year on suspicion of selling stolen antiques but released for lack of evidence. He looks a likely suspect but it’s all circumstantial.’
    ‘And his sister is in a position to know which houses would be empty and open for burglary.’
    ‘That’s the problem. Why would he want to rip off a
gîte
? There’s no furniture worth taking.’
    ‘Maybe he knew Fullerton and knew he had a truckload of antiques with him.’
    ‘It’s a bit thin,’ J-J said, surprising Ivan, who was about to serve the pork chops. ‘Not you, and not this fine-looking dish,’ J-J said hurriedly and then leaned forward to breathe in the aroma of the celery sauce. A wide smile appeared on his face as he waited for Ivan to return with the vegetables.
    ‘I warn you, he’s put his prices up,’ said Bruno. ‘Probably your fault for over-praising him. It’s ten euros fifty now for the set lunch.’
    J-J swallowed his first mouthful, nodded in approval and sipped at his wine. ‘Soup, this fine pork chop with vegetables done to perfection, then a green salad followed by cheese and topped off with – what’s the dessert today?’
    ‘
Tarte Tatin
.’
    J-J looked up to the heavens. ‘Thank you, God.’ He looked back at Bruno. ‘Followed by
tarte Tatin
plus a quarter-litre of this very drinkable red for ten euros fifty? I don’t know how he does it.’
    ‘It will be an extra euro twenty for the coffee, and then you’ll probably want a glass of Monbazillac with the
tarte
and then maybe a
digestif
and suddenly your bill is twenty euros,’ Bruno said. ‘That’s how Ivan makes his