I walked through the garden. It was another bright, cloudless day outside. It was hot, but the edge was taken off the heat by the sea breeze. There was no one on the terrace, but I could detect movement and plates of food inside.
I walked into the main house, and through the dining-room door I spied a table laden with bread, cold meats, cheese and salad. Mel was standing outside the room, listening. I stopped just behind her. I could hear Guy talking to Patrick Hoyle in an urgent whisper. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I heard Hoyle’s response.
‘Abdulatif? The man’s name is Abdulatif?’
Guy murmured in confirmation. Then Mel suddenly became aware of me standing at her shoulder. She reddened and walked into the room. I followed her. Guy turned and glowered. Hoyle coughed and nodded at me. I made straight for the lunch, to be joined a moment later by Mel.
In the awkward silence, the two of us helped ourselves, a large pile of food for me, a couple of spoonfuls for Mel. As Guy and Hoyle left the room I turned to her. ‘What was that about?’
She glanced at me quickly and just shook her head. She clearly didn’t want to talk. I knew she must be feeling fragile, and I didn’t want to intrude. So I sat down and began to eat.
Ingrid appeared at the door. ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘I’m famished.’
‘I know what you mean,’ I said. ‘Help yourself.’
Ingrid did just that.
‘Are the police still here?’ I asked her, glad to have someone to talk to. ‘I didn’t see any in the garden.’
‘They’ve been combing it all morning,’ she said. ‘Perhaps they’ve finished, or maybe it’s just a lunch break.’
‘Have you seen Tony?’
‘He’s with some French guy in a suit. I think Patrick Hoyle got him a lawyer.’
‘I thought Hoyle was a lawyer.’
‘He may be. But this guy’s probably a criminal lawyer. I imagine they’re different.’
‘Do you think Tony killed her?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. The French cops seem to think he did, though. Hang on, here comes one of them.’
I looked up. Sauville was marching towards us. My heart sank as I realized his eyes were focused on me. ‘Monsieur Lane. When you have finished your lunch, I would like you to assist us, please.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘We need to search your room. And we would like to take samples from the clothes you were wearing yesterday afternoon. Also we need your fingerprints. And afterwards I invite you to the police station.’
‘The police station?’ I didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Why do you want me to go to the police station?’
Sauville glanced at Ingrid and Mel. He coughed. ‘Er... We need some samples.’
‘What kind of samples?’ I said, my suspicions aroused by his hesitation.
Sauville glanced at the girls again. ‘You will find out at the station.’
He left the three of us alone at the table. Mel remained sullen and withdrawn. But Ingrid looked as if she was trying to control a giggle.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘I think I know what they’re after,’ said Ingrid.
‘What?’
‘They want your sperm,’ she said.
I grimaced. ‘Oh, God.’
Sauville returned to hurry me along with my meal.
‘Have fun,’ said Ingrid as I left the room with him.
A policeman drove me down the switchbacks to the prosperous little town of Beaulieu-sur-Mer. We passed through streets lined with bright awnings, under which parfumeries, boutiques, galeries and salons de beauté enticed wealthy tourists in off the pavements. There were flowering trees everywhere. Above and behind the town stretched a curtain of high grey cliffs. Les Sarrasins and its watchtower were clearly distinguishable up there, silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky.
The Gendarmerie Nationale was a scruffy building near the railway station. It was scruffy inside too: linoleum floors, dog-eared posters, functional metal and chipboard furniture. Thankfully, Ingrid was wrong about the precise nature of the samples they wanted, but I was sure she was right about their purpose. A doctor took a swab of saliva from my cheek, a syringe full of blood from my arm and hairs both from my head and, humiliatingly, from my pubic region. Afterwards I hung around in a waiting room until the policeman who had brought me down the hill came by to drive me back.
We were just leaving the building when a police car pulled up outside. Sauville stepped out, followed by another detective and two other figures, Tony and Patrick Hoyle. Tony looked tired and grim. He caught my eye as he entered the station. The hostility of that brief glare made me flinch.
It looked as if he was going to have some difficult questions to answer.
14
As soon as I arrived back at Les Sarrasins I headed for my room and opened up War and Peace again. This time I couldn’t lose myself in its pages. I just kept thinking about Tony.
Had he murdered his wife? He must have. He had the motive: I had provided that. He had discovered the body in the middle of the night. And I had seen him being led into the police station for questioning. Did he look to me like a murderer? I had no idea what a murderer looked like. He was certainly charming. Just as certainly I would never trust him. But I couldn’t envisage him actually killing Dominique.
Despite my last bruising meeting with Guy, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. I knew how much he admired his father, and now he had to face the possibility that he was a murderer. It would be tough on him.
Tough on Owen too, but I didn’t care about that.
There was a gentle knock on the bedroom door. Ingrid put her head round. ‘How was your trip to the police station?’
‘Horrible.’
‘Look. I’m sorry I teased you about it earlier. That was hardly fair. Mel and I are having a drink. Would you like to join us?’
I dropped my book with a thud on to the floor by my bed. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I would.’
I followed Ingrid out on to the terrace, where Mel was sitting alone at a table under the shade of a pine tree. Two glasses half-full of bubbly clear liquid and ice were standing in front of her. I went to fetch a beer for myself. I couldn’t face a vodka and tonic: vodka reminded me of things I would rather forget.
‘I saw Tony at the police station,’ I said, taking the first sip.
‘Yeah. They said they wanted to ask him some more questions,’ Ingrid said. ‘He didn’t seem anxious to go.’
‘What did Guy say?’
‘Nothing. But he looked worried.’
‘I bet he did.’
Despite all that had happened, the sun was shining brightly. Too brightly. Mel was cowering behind dark glasses. I couldn’t blame her. She was drinking determinedly.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked her gently. I knew it was a stupid question, but I wanted to show her I cared about how she felt.
She sniffed and rubbed her nose. She had been crying. ‘Not really. And you?’
‘Not really.’
Mel looked at me awkwardly. ‘Was it your first time?’
I nodded. ‘And you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Pretty bad way to start, isn’t it?’ I said.
Mel laughed. ‘Yes. After all those years of saying no, all that saving myself for the right man, and I go and do it with a fifty-year-old pervert.’
‘Quite a good-looking fifty-year-old pervert, isn’t he?’
‘That’s not the point. He’s old enough to be my father. And that’s what really scares me. Maybe I’m going to be one of those sad girls who chase after men twice their age because they’re trying to get their fathers back.’
‘Are your parents divorced?’