the others back in when you leave, but you can take that ridiculous little
Notaire away with you.
You are right about the law, Bruno said. Thats why we wasted no time in
getting the depositions from our illustrious guests who happened to witness that
act of aggression by outside agitators. Depositions from both generals, and the
Minister. I think the Mayor wishes to discuss them with you before any further
judicial decisions are made.
Very clever, said Tavernier after a long silence. And I am sure the
depositions are very flattering about the role of our hulking Arab, and of the
towns Chef de Police.
I wouldnt know, Monsieur. I havent seen them. I only know the Mayor wishes to
discuss them with you, in the interest of furnishing all possible assistance to
the judicial authorities.
In rather the same way that somebody sent that silly little Notaire in here
spouting about the European Court of Justice. Was that your doing?
I dont know what youre talking about, Monsieur. I do know that no responsible
policeman would stand in the way of allowing someone the benefit of legal advice
if theyre being questioned. Im sure you and Capitaine Duroc would agree.
A country policeman who follows the judgments of the European Court of
Justice, Tavernier sneered. How very impressive.
And the European Court of Human Rights, Bruno said. It is the duty of a
policeman to pay attention to the laws he is sworn to uphold.
The law is even-handed, Monsieur le Chef de Police. The outside agitators
involved in the riot are facing prosecution, and so are the local townspeople
who reacted with undue force. And we are still seeking to establish who was
responsible for starting the violence.
Then, Monsieur, I am sure you will want to waste no time in consulting the
depositions of such eminent witnesses as the generals and the Minister, as the
Mayor invites you to do.
A long silence ensued as Tavernier kept his eyes fixed on Brunos, and Bruno
could only guess at the calculations of personal and political ambition that
were taking place behind the young mans calm features. He kept his own face
similarly immobile.
You may inform the Mayor that I shall wait upon him in his office within thirty
minutes, Tavernier said finally, and turned his gaze away.
The Mayor and I will both stand surety for the young man you were questioning
before this regrettable interruption, Bruno said. We guarantee that he will be
available to you at any time for further questioning, along with a suitable
legal representative.
Very well, said Tavernier. You may take your violent Arab along for the
moment. I think we have all the evidence we need. He waved a languid hand at
the video.
Hes as French as you or me, but Ill remember you said that. Bruno turned on
his heel and walked out. He collected Karim and Brosseil on the way, and Duroc
started to protest. Bruno simply looked at him and pointed back to the closed
door of Durocs office and said, Check with the boy wonder in there.
And then they were down the steps and into the open air, and a cheer came up
from the crowd that had gathered at the corner of the Rue de Paris as Momu
trotted forward joyfully to embrace Karim. Half the town seemed to be present,
including the two old enemies from the Resistance, Bachelot and Jean-Pierre,
both of them beaming. Bruno thanked Brosseil, who was jaunty with pride at his
own part in the proceedings and too excited even to think about whether he might
send someone a bill for his services. This surprised Bruno, who wondered how
long Brosseils forgetfulness would last. He slapped Karim on the back, and Momu
came up apologetically to shake his hand.
Was that true what you said about the rafles, throwing people in the River
Seine? Bruno asked.
Yes, in 1961, October. Over two hundred of us. Its history. You can look it
up. They even made a TV programme about it.
Bruno shook his head, not in disbelief but with weary sadness at the endless
march of human folly.
Im very sorry, he said.
It was the war, said Momu. And at times like this I get worried that it isnt
over. He looked across to where Karim was being led into the Bar des Amateurs
for a celebratory beer. Id better make sure he just has the one and gets back
to comfort Rashida. Thanks for bringing him out. And Im sorry I pushed you,
Bruno. I was very worked up.
I understand. Its a hard time for you with your father and now this. But you
know the whole town is with you.
I know, Momu nodded. I taught half of them how to count. They are decent
people. Thanks again.
Give my respects to Rashida, Bruno said, and walked off alone up the Rue de
Paris to brief the Mayor.
CHAPTER
19
Bruno dressed for dinner. He had pondered what to wear while feeding his
chickens, and he thought a pair of chinos and casual shirt, with a jacket, would
be suitable. A tie would be too much. He also took a bottle of his unlabelled
Lalande de Pomerol from the cellar and put it on the seat of his car beside the
bunch of flowers he had bought, so that he would not forget. He showered, shaved
and dressed, fed Gigi and then drove off, wondering what the mad Englishwoman
and her friend were going to feed him. He had heard much of English cooking,
none of it reassuring, although Pamela was clearly a civilised woman with the
excellent taste to live in Périgord. But still, he was nervous, and not only for
his stomach. The invitation had come by hand-delivered note to his office, and
was addressed To our Defender. The tongues of the women in the Mairie had not
stopped wagging since.
It had been a tiresome day, with half the newspapers and TV stations in France
wanting to interview the lone cop of St Denis, as France-Soir had called him.
He turned them all down, except for his favourite, Radio Périgord, who seemed
disappointed when he said that a lone cop would have been knocked silly and it
was the presence of Inspector Isabelle Perrault that had made the difference.
Isabelle had then called him to complain that Paris-Match wanted to photograph
her in her karate fighting suit and the damn female media expert at Police HQ
was insisting she submit. But she accepted his invitation to dinner the
following evening, only she said because she wanted to get a good look at
his black eye and bruises.
It was still fully light outside as Bruno parked at Pamelas, yet there were
lights blazing throughout the house, an old oil lamp glowing softly on the table
in the courtyard, and some gentle jazz music playing. An English voice called
out, Hes here, and Pamela appeared, looking formal in a long dress and her
hair piled high. She was carrying a tray with a bottle of what looked like Veuve
Clicquot and three glasses.
Our hero, she said, putting the tray down on the table and kissing him soundly
on both cheeks.
After seeing what you did to that young skinhead Im not sure I ought to get