The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

they had said goodnight to Fabiola and taken Balzac into Hector’s stall so he could sleep beside his friend the gelding. Then they had stood a while, Pamela leaning her back against him as they looked atthe vast reach of the stars against the clear night sky. When he began to kiss her neck she’d unpinned her hair to let it float down around his head, turned to kiss him properly and then taken his hand to lead him to her bed.
    ‘Thank you for this,’ he said, gesturing at the tray. ‘And thank you for last night. I feel wonderful.’
    ‘You know, there was a moment last night when I thought Gilles might be staying the night with Fabiola,’ she said. ‘They lingered together over coffee and exchanged what my mother would have called meaningful looks.’
    ‘You mean like the looks I was giving you?’ He took her hand and raised it to his lips.
    ‘No, you knew exactly what would be coming next. And so did I. But they didn’t. The looks were exploratory, aware of possibilities in one another, looks full of uncertainty about how the evening might end. It was quite romantic, just watching them. Maybe she’s finally ready to have an affair, but I don’t think she’s yet made up her mind about him.’
    ‘Gilles is a good guy, she could do a lot worse.’
    ‘He’s a few years older than her, which might not be a bad thing,’ Pamela said. ‘And he’s a bit plump. But she could always take him in hand, get him down here at weekends. I’m sure he lives on pizzas and sandwiches in Paris and he probably drinks too much.’
    ‘You sound like you’re planning the wedding and thinking about names for their first child,’ he said, surreptitiously giving Balzac the final bite of his croissant as Pamela stared up at the ceiling.
    ‘I saw that, and you’d better be sure he leaves no crumbs in the bed,’ she said, turning onto her side to face him andputting a hand on his bare chest. Her face bore a serious look. ‘Do you think Fabiola’s happy?’
    ‘She seems to be. She’s got an interesting job, earns more money than me, has lots of friends, horses to ride and she’s passionate about that women’s shelter in Bergerac she volunteers at.’
    ‘Does it worry you that she earns more than you do?’
    ‘No, because I don’t spend the money I do earn. I get my food for free from the garden or hunting or cheaply from my farming friends. My uniforms are free so I don’t spend much on clothes. The
Mairie
pays for my petrol and my phone bills. I don’t owe a penny on my house, I have a wonderful horse and good wine in my cellar. Other than raffle tickets at the tennis club I don’t gamble and I just spent the night with a beautiful woman who brings me hot croissants in bed, all of which makes me the richest man in St Denis.’
    ‘Do you think Fabiola’s attractive? She’s so sensitive about that scar.’
    ‘I think she’s very attractive with a lovely figure and that scar’s not prominent and it’s the kind of feature that makes a man look twice, and be curious about how she got it. When she says it was a mountaineering accident, it’s like she’s handed him a rope. Once he starts talking to her about where she’s climbed and why she likes it then he’ll realize what an interesting, intelligent woman she is, quite apart from being a doctor. Plus she makes a great risotto and those fondues of hers are irresistible.’
    ‘But that’s the thing. Intelligent women make men nervous. Maybe that’s why she’s started learning to cook.’
    ‘You don’t make me nervous.’ He kissed her hand again.
    She gave him a playful slap and said: ‘Time to get up. The horses need riding. I’ll go and see if Fabiola’s awake while you get dressed. See you in the stables.’ She kissed him on the forehead and headed for the stairs. As his eyes followed her appreciatively, he was sure she was putting a deliberate extra wiggle in her hips.
    *
    An hour later Bruno arrived at the Gendarmerie. Summoned by a message on his phone from J-J, he was dressed in civilian clothes. It was Sunday, after all.
    ‘We’ve got a camper van Murcoing’s sister rented but we can’t find it,’ said J-J, averting his eyes from the little red monkey that still sat atop Yveline’s computer. ‘One of the Bergerac cops was trawling through every ad on the Internet and came up with a guy in Issigeac who rented it to her. We’re checking every campsite and layby and the
motards
are checking every camper van on the roads. We’ve