The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

him.’
    ‘And then there’s the gay angle. We know from Valentoux that Fullerton was gay and one of Murcoing’s sister’s friends called him a
petit pédé
. Maybe they fell out because Fullerton had found a new lover in Valentoux.’
    ‘That corpse was a
crime passionnel
if ever I saw one,’ J-J agreed. He sipped his coffee and called for the bill. ‘So even though Isabelle and the Brigadier want you focused on the burglary, you want to be part of the murder inquiry because that’s how you think you’ll solve it all.’
    He opened his wallet, put a twenty-euro note and a ten onto Ivan’s saucer, waving away the change, and tucked the receipt back with the rest of his cash. ‘Suits me,’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure you’re kept informed of everything we get: forensics, records, anything from the British police and the lads I’ve got making the rounds of the local antiques dealers.’
    ‘And I want to be there when you question Murcoing.’
    ‘We have to find him first. Inspector Jofflin from Bergerac is in charge of that. Now let’s get outside. I’m bursting for a cigarette.’
    ‘I’ll come back to the Gendarmerie with you. I want a word with Valentoux once you let him out.’
    ‘In that case, give me an hour to square things with Yveline and Bernard.’
    Bruno headed back to his office to deal with his emails, phone messages and the usual pile of post. There was one from the British consulate in Bordeaux to say that Fullerton’s brother would arrive by plane in Bordeaux the following day to take care of the funeral arrangements. He’d rent a car and contact Bruno on arrival in St Denis. The consulate had booked him into Les Glycines in Les Eyzies for three nights. There was an email from the adjutant of the 4th
Régiment de Transmissions
in Agen, confirming that a squad of troops would mount a guard of honour for Loïc Murcoing’s funeral and asking him to verify the date and time. He had just got off the phone with Father Sentout to confirm the funeral arrangements and was about to call Florence when the Mayor put his head around the door, came in, closed it behind him and leaned against it.
    ‘I had a phone call from Jacqueline Morgan. I gather you know about Cécile’s condition,’ he said. He looked exhausted.
    ‘Yes, I was terribly sorry to learn it.’ As he did whenever the Mayor entered his office, Bruno stood up. His instinct was to go over and embrace the old man who had been the nearest he’d ever known to a father. ‘I will keep the information to myself.’
    ‘It’s her wish.’ The Mayor put a hand to his brow, smoothed his fingertips over his temple as if trying to soothe a headache. ‘She does not want her final days filled with a stream of weeping visitors. Nor does Cécile want people to see her as she is now.’
    ‘I understand.’ He felt helpless, wanting to do something helpful to show his sympathy and concern but with no ideawhat might be best. Bruno wondered how long this trial would last, not just for his Mayor but for the sweet and loyal woman who was dying in the same self-effacing way that she had lived. How little we can really do for one another at the time when it’s most needed, he thought.
    ‘It must be difficult for you, returning from hospital to an empty house. Would it help if you moved into my spare room?’
    ‘Thank you, Bruno, but no. Jacqueline has taken on the task of seeing that I’m properly fed and I think it right to sleep in the room that Cécile and I shared for nearly four decades. It will be forty years next February, but she won’t live to see it.’

9
    Like Valentoux himself, the theatre director’s silk shirt looked the worse for wear when Bruno collected him from the Gendarmerie and took him across the road to the Bar des Amateurs. When Bruno asked what he’d like to drink, Valentoux shook himself out of his daze and ordered a beer, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes, but it was empty. They sat at a table outside, the sunshine dappled by the leaves of the plane trees that lined the street.
    ‘What will you do now?’ Bruno asked.
    ‘Buy cigarettes, take a shower and see if the drama festival still wants a director who’s suspected of murder. Then I’d better head back to the
gîte
where Francis died. I won’t be able to sleep a wink but it’s the only place I have to stay.’
    ‘You can’t go there. It’s been sealed off as a crime scene.’
    ‘
Merde
. I’m in no shape to drive back to Paris. Can I take