The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

number and handed the ticket to Ardouin. ‘The woman in the café remembers selling it to him along with some cigarettes. And that would explain why he didn’t answer his phone.’
    Ardouin nodded and closed the file before him. ‘So your story holds up, Monsieur Valentoux. One of those rare occasions when cigarettes may actually have done you some good.’
    Bruno excused himself and went to the front desk, where the sergeant on duty had a small TV set and like millions of his compatriots was watching the weekly lottery draw with histicket in his hand. Bruno watched the little balls bouncing in their swirling currents of air until one popped out and rolled down into the first container. When the final ball had landed, he called the Café Moreau again and told the woman that Yves had three numbers and the joker. What was that worth?
    ‘Too much for me to give him his winnings in cash,’ she replied. ‘It has to be a banker’s draft, at least five hundred. Depends how many other people have the joker.’
    Ardouin and Yves were just coming out of the interview room when Yveline put down the phone, ran a hand over her face and said: ‘France Télécom can’t give us the different times on the phone track until Monday.’
    ‘I’d like to know more about the travels of this mysterious phone, but even so, I don’t think we need detain Monsieur Valentoux any longer,’ said Ardouin. ‘We now have proof that he was in Paris around the time that Fullerton was murdered.’
    ‘It’s his lucky day,’ said Bruno. ‘He’s just won five hundred on the lottery.’
    *
    Disappointed in their hope of dinner in Sarlat, the whole St Denis contingent had gathered at Pamela’s place for an impromptu meal of Fabiola’s risotto. The Mayor had brought wine and two tins of his own pâté and Pamela had salad from the garden and cheese. After calling to see where they had all gone Bruno was able to join them in time for coffee and relate the dramas of the evening.
    ‘So you’re back looking for Paul Murcoing,’ said Pamela, when his tale was complete and a toast drunk to Yves’s release.
    ‘Well, I am,’ said Bruno. ‘He was the last person we can place at the murder scene, so we have to find him so we can talk tohim. But the
Proc
says the evidence against Murcoing is only circumstantial and there’s no obvious motive. Yveline still has her eye on Valentoux and J-J wants to start looking at other antiques dealers who might have had a motive to kill Fullerton.’
    ‘Maybe there’s an English connection, somebody living here who knew him,’ Pamela mused.
    She was looking well, the pallor of a Scottish winter beginning to give way to the beginnings of a tan, her bronze hair piled loosely atop her head to display her long neck and the emerald earrings that suited her. She was wearing a pale blue blouse of heavy silk over perfectly cut jeans. Bruno smiled, enjoying the look of her, the clear skin and bold eyes, the shape of her neck and the delicate scent of her hair. She returned his gaze, a fondness in her eyes, and placed her hand on his where it rested on the table. That was unusual; Pamela seldom showed her affection in public.
    His attention was distracted by sounds of argument from the other side of the table, where Gilles and Jacqueline had been locked in discussion. With the events of the evening, Bruno had forgotten that Jacqueline had wanted him to help promote her story in
Paris Match
.
    ‘Bruno, could you explain to Jacqueline that I’m not a little clockwork toy that can be wound up and sent marching away and then turned off?’ Gilles said, filling his glass with the fresh wine. ‘There’s a big story here, but all I’m getting is hints about nuclear strategy and warnings not to make a big sensation. You know I can’t work like that.’
    ‘I’m just saying that I don’t want my work to be over-interpreted,’ said Jacqueline crisply. ‘This is a serious matter.’
    ‘I’ve known Gilles a long time and I trust him,’ Bruno replied. ‘Why not show him that draft you showed me earlier and then explain how you would like the story to emerge? He knows more about the way the media works than anybody else here, and I’d like to hear his views.’
    Giving Bruno a dubious look, Jacqueline shrugged, took the folded typescript from her bag and passed it to Gilles. He pulled a candelabra closer, put on a pair of reading glasses and began to study it closely.
    ‘Lousy intro,’ he muttered, and