The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

that you’re here, we can probably confirm that through your DNA. I’m afraid the head was too badly damaged to be recognizable.’
    Fullerton frowned. ‘That sounds bad.’
    ‘It was an extremely brutal killing, and we’re determined to bring the murderer to justice. Allow me to compliment you on your French.’
    ‘That’s mother. She’s French, met my father when she came to work for some neighbours as an
au pair
back in the early Sixties.’
    ‘Were you and your brother close?’ Bruno pulled out his notebook and began writing.
    ‘Not really, Francis was eleven years younger and we led very different lives. But we tried to do the usual family things like Christmas and the occasional holiday so he could get to know my children. I’m a civil servant, married with a family, rather conventional, and Francis was the complete opposite.’
    ‘You mean that he was homosexual?’
    ‘Ah, you know. Not only that, although it took our parents some time to adjust. We’re an old-fashioned family.’ He went on to explain that Francis had never really settled down, perhaps had never really grown up. He’d been intelligent and managed to get a degree even though he dropped out from university for a while, but he kept getting into trouble with drugs and debts.
    ‘When Francis went to prison it broke my mother’s heart. He was her favourite of course, the last baby, born long after my sister and me, and he always had this angelic look as a child.’ Fullerton frowned again. ‘I suppose I have to get used to referring to him in the past tense.’
    ‘We didn’t know he’d been in prison,’ said Bruno, startled by the news but not altogether surprised. ‘We’ve asked the British police if anything was known about him but these things take time to come through official channels. Why was he sent to prison?’
    ‘Receiving stolen goods,’ said the brother. After some wild years in London and then in America, Francis had settled down with a steady partner called Sam Berenson. He was an older man, in the antiques business in a part of Brighton called The Lanes, full of antiques shops. Francis claimed that he’d been the fall guy when the police found a haul of stolen silver at their shop. One of the burglars had turned Queen’s evidence, and since Francis refused to testify against his partner he was sentenced to three years and was out in two.
    ‘But he stayed in the business?’
    ‘Berenson died of AIDS while Francis was in prison, and he left Francis the lot; a house in Brighton, the shop and all the stock.’ Fullerton shook his head ruefully. ‘Almost worth it for two years inside, that’s what my wife says.’
    ‘Did he specialize in silver?’
    ‘No, that was the odd thing. The shop specialized in antique furniture, rugs and paintings. Francis sold it and the house he’d been left at the top of the market, just before the recession. He made quite a lot of money and then started his new business. He began going back and forth to France, sellingBritish stuff over here and then buying French furniture to sell back in Britain. He seemed to do very well out of it, drove a Porsche, bought a house in Chelsea when the prices dropped. He always had a good eye for a bargain.’
    ‘So he kept up his links to his mother’s homeland. How often did he make these trips to France?’
    ‘At least once a month. He had a big warehouse outside Brighton where he kept his stock. And he went back to the States a few times, using his old contacts in Los Angeles. Then he started exporting English antiques over there.’
    ‘Do you know if Francis made a will?’
    ‘Yes, I checked with his lawyer before coming over here. Everything goes to me and my sister to be kept in trust for our children. I’ve got a letter from the lawyer saying I’m the executor. I made some copies so here’s one for you.’ He pulled a file from his briefcase and handed Bruno the letter.
    ‘I suspect his dying in France may complicate the inheritance. You may want to consult a lawyer.’
    ‘I’ve done so. I’m told his British property will be covered by the will, but the French property will be different.’
    ‘What French property?’
    ‘An old farm in the Corrèze, very picturesque but a bit remote for me and the children. We only visited a couple of times as a family. I came down again last year with him, just the two of us. He bought the place when he sold the shop. That’s why I was surprised to hear that he died here at