"I could ask Lesauvage," Annja said.
"I thought you didn't know him."
"Maybe you could introduce us," Annja suggested with a smile. The inspector wasn't the only one who could play games. He was just the only one at the moment with some reason to.
A sour smile pulled at Richelieu's lips. He pulled at his left ear. "You're intimating that I have some kind of personal relationship with Lesauvage?"
Returning his gaze full measure, Annja asked, "Are you sure speaking French works for you? Maybe English translates more plainly."
Richelieu scowled. "I didn't come here to listen to disparaging remarks directed at me, Miss Creed."
"I didn't come here to cool my heels for three hours, then get patted on the head and sent away."
Opening the slim notebook computer on his desk, Richelieu opened a file that displayed several pictures. "We investigated the site. I took these pictures. I found expended cartridges, bullets in the trees and scorch marks." He paused. "No bodies. No motorcycles."
"Then Lesauvage picked them up."
"Why?"
"So he wouldn't be implicated."
Closing the computer, Richelieu looked at her. "I was hoping to establish the veracity of your claim, Miss Creed. I did find damage done out in the forest – which is federally protected, I might add, and something you might be called upon to answer for – but nothing that you and your friend couldn't have done yourselves."
"We didn't intentionally damage the forest," Annja said. She was annoyed. Truthfully, she hadn't expected much in the way of help from the police. This man, Lesauvage, appeared to have a large organization at his beck and call. Assuming he had inroads with the local police was no great leap of imagination.
"So you say," the inspector said.
"I dosay."
"I will note your disavowal in my reports."
"Why would we do something like that?" Annja asked, exasperated.
Richelieu spread his hands. "You're a television personality, Miss Creed. Here in Lozère chasing a monster that's three hundred years old. Perhaps you thought tales of a running gun battle through the forest would, perhaps, spice upyour tale. For your viewers. I am told that you people in television will do anything to improve your ratings."
"I wouldn't do that," Annja said angrily.
"Perhaps not. But there were no bodies out there. Nor was there a giant crevasse leading to an underground cave containing the remains of La Bête."
"The earthquake must have closed it back up."
Richelieu nodded. "Amazing, isn't it, that nature herself would align against you?"
"What about the bullet holes in the old man's SUV?"
"A lover's quarrel?"
Frowning, Annja said, "Me? And that old man? Please."
Richelieu laughed. "Perhaps it was over business. Perhaps you were both shooting at game and hit the truck instead."
"No."
"Your report here could be just to falsify an insurance claim."
"That's not what happened."
"But you are on the show with the woman with the… problematicapparel."
Terrific, Annja thought. Maybe poltergeists could get chased away from historic manors, but she'd be haunted by Kristie Chatham's bodacious ta-tas forever.
"I have never had a problem with my apparel," Annja pointed out.
"I have made a note of that, as well."
Annja reached into her pack and took out her digital camera. She switched it on and brought up the pictures she'd shot inside the cave. In spite of the darkness, the images had turned out well.
"This is La Bête," Annja said.
Taking the camera, Richelieu consulted the images, punching through them one by one. He handed the camera back. "Anyone with Photoshop could make these."
"And take the time to put them on a camera?" Annja couldn't believe it.
"It would," the inspector said as inoffensively as he could, "make your story seem more legitimate. When The Blair Witch Projectappeared in theaters, many people believed the video footage was part of an actual paranormal investigation. And Orson Welles anchoring The War of the Worldsin news reports on the radio in 1938 was also deliberate, causing mass hysteria throughout your country. Media people know best how to present anything they wish to."
"Those are real pictures," Annja stated.
"If you insist."
Angrily, Annja put the camera away. "Who is Lesauvage?"
"A figment of your overactive imagination," Richelieu said.
Without a word, Annja got up to leave.
"Or…" Richelieu let the word dangle like a fishing lure.
Annja waited. Mysteries always kept her hanging well past the point she should leave.
"Or he's a man named Corvin Lesauvage," Richelieu said. "If it is this man, he's very dangerous. He's a known criminal, though that's never been successfully proved. Witnesses have a tendency to… disappear. Likewise, so do past business associates."
"Can you help me with him?"
"Can you offer me any proof that he's truly after you, Miss Creed?"
Annja thought for a moment. "There was a man who was knocked unconscious in an alley earlier this morning. In the downtown area."
More interested now, Richelieu leaned forward. "Do you know something about that?"
Ignoring the question, Annja asked, "Did he work for Corvin Lesauvage?"
"We don't know."
"Then I suggest you ask him."
Richelieu frowned. "We can't."
"Why not?"
"He was killed. Less than an hour after we took him into custody."
Annja thought about that. Evidently there was something at stake here that she didn't know about. "Did Lesauvage do it?"
"We don't know who did it."
Meaning you don't know if it was done by an inmate or a police officer, Annja thought.
"There was a local boy with me this morning," Annja said. "His name is Avery Moreau. I hired him to set up my trip, arrange for things."
Richelieu nodded. "I know Avery. He's a sad case."
"Why?"
"His father died quite suddenly a few weeks ago."
"I don't understand," Annja said.
"His father was shot to death."
"By Lesauvage?" Annja asked, thinking maybe the men had been after Avery more than her.
"No," Richelieu said. "By me."
Annja didn't know what to say to that, so she said nothing. She wondered if perhaps Richelieu was warning her.
"Gerard Moreau, Avery's father, was a small-time burglar," Richelieu said. "He'd been in and out of jail for years. That is a matter of record and was covered in the media. It was only a matter of time before we put him away for good or a homeowner shot him. As it happened, I shot him while investigating the report of a burglary. He hadn't made it out of the house and came at me with a weapon." The inspector leaned back in his chair. "Needless to say, Avery Moreau has been less than cooperative."
Thinking about things for a moment, Annja said, "Let's say for a moment that you believe me about the chase down the mountain."
Richelieu smiled. "Let's."
"Why would Lesauvage recover the bodies of the dead men?"
"To avoid being implicated."
"Which is what I said."
"You did. It's a conclusion that fits the facts as you present them. We're entertaining that for the moment."
"Why would Lesauvage risk sending men after me in the first place?"