Unlikely. The past few months had been the worst. He'd feel exhausted immediately upon waking up, then would gain a burst of energy from his steroids which might, if he was lucky, last through till late afternoon. But if he had a heavy day or courtroom appearances, he would start to flag earlier.
Often when he came home from a day's work his youngest Chantelle, only seven, would jump up in his arms and he'd hardly have the strength to carry her more than a few feet. The anguish of his disease would hit him strongest in those moments. He was denying them. His other three daughters he'd been able to happily lift and swing around at leisure. He would become increasingly a burden, until finally there was nothing left but to sit quietly in the corner and occasionally rub his cramped legs while his daughters asked him if he wanted another coffee or something else to read. His anger and defiance rose up strongly. They were going out on the boat this year if it killed him!
Corbeix sat down and looked at his notes. The next session was tomorrow morning, final session Thursday. Notary arranged to travel with Fornier to London.
He hadn't told Fornier about his illness and that he wouldn't be able to pursue any trial cases beyond August. No point. Whatever stage the case was at then, he would merely hand over to Galimbert who was perfectly capable. Fornier had enough on his plate with trying to track down paedophile leads and find tangible clues from the remaining two sessions, without having to worry about a change of prosecutor halfway through.
Corbeix looked at his calendar: three weeks left in April. August. Even if something came up quickly and he was able to file charges within a month, they would be lucky to be through the first four or five instruction hearings by then.
Going back through his notes and Fornier's files, the enormity of the case struck him. Leading politician. Murder. A landmark procedural case — the first of its kind in France based on such unorthodox evidence. It would make the Tapie scandal look like a parking ticket.
But it was all so tenuous, out of reach. Too many obstacles, too many contingencies — which was probably another reason why he hadn't mentioned anything to Fornier. He doubted that Fornier would even cross the first hurdle. There wouldn't be a case to prosecute. Yet a corner of his mind — where he also contemplated what he would do if he won the lottery or woke up one morning with his illness suddenly gone — realized that if Fornier defied all odds and found something, it would certainly be the biggest case of his career. A fitting curtain bow. It would be tempting to see it all the way through.
Corbeix shook his head. He would file and put it in motion, set it on the right track, then hand over to Galimbert in August, as he'd originally planned. He didn't have the energy left for glory.
Session 12.
The tape rolled silently. The sound of Marinella Calvan tapping on the computer keys and then Phillipe's voice in French. With five of them in the room looking on expectantly at the lone figure of Eyran Capel on the couch, the atmosphere was tense. Or perhaps it was because Dominic knew this was their last chance.
'Did you go into the local village with your parents often?'
'Yes, but mostly at the weekend. Hardly ever in the week when I was at school.'
'What sort of places did you go in the village with your parents?'
'Mostly the shops with my mother… sometimes we would stop at a cafe for a drink. And there was a farm provision store four kilometres beyond Bauriac where I would sometimes go with my father. At the back they…'
Dominic tuned it out. Marinella had mentioned the first moments were normally general background to settle Christian into the mood. Dominic looked back at the transcript from the last session and his own notes in the margin:
'…When you finally came out of the darkness of the car boot and your eyes adjusted to the light, what did you see?'
'The field… the wheat field and the lane by the river.'
'Anything else. Was there anyone that you could see there apart from yourself and the man who'd taken you there in his car?'
'No… there was nobody?'
'Tell me what you heard there? Could you hear anything out of place?'
'No… not really. Just the river running in the distance… the sound of the wind through the trees.'
'Think hard. Was there anything else? Even the smallest sound at any time while you were in the wheat field?'
'Some other water running… spilling on the ground…'
'Anything else?'
'…Some bells, faint, in the distance… but the light was fading. And another light… reaching out… but I couldn't feel my hand… the pain.. the…'
(Garbled and incoherent here. Words mostly unintelligible. Eyran moved on).
Dominic had scribbled in the margin: Church bells?Sound of water: how far away? He brought his attention back as he heard Marinella mention church. She'd moved deftly from other places Christian regularly visited in the village to church visits.
'…And while you were there with your parents, either before or afterwards, do you remember the sound of the church bells ringing?'
'Yes… sometimes. Usually before we went they were ringing.'
'Can you fix that sound in your mind and remember it clearly now?' Muted 'yes' from Eyran. 'And going back again now, back to when you had come out of the darkness of the car boot and into the light — you mentioned the sound of a bell ringing. Was it the same sound you remember from the church, or something else?'
'No… it was different. Not so distant… and higher pitched, a tinkling sound.'
Goats bells! Dominic remembered Machanaud in his statement leaving at that moment because a farmer was moving his goats into the adjoining field. The same farmer had probably disturbed Duclos, and Christian was obviously still conscious in those final few moments. Dominic was suddenly hit with a thought. He scribbled a hasty note and passed it to Marinella Calvan.
She was halfway through tapping out a fresh question, but realized it would be difficult to later backtrack to his. She back-deleted and typed: 'About that same time, did you hear the man's car starting up or moving?'
'No… I don't remember that… I didn't hear anything else… I…th.. there was nothing.'
So Christian had blacked out between the farmer approaching and Duclos moving his car. A minute or two at most. Dominic had noticed Lambourne look over sharply as he'd passed Marinella the note. Lambourne had appeared uncomfortable at the introduction of the notary, Fenouillet, who made periodic notes while observing the inter-play between Marinella, Philippe and Eyran Capel. Dominic had claimed a desire to file some of the transcripts along with other official papers about the murder; for that, notary authentication was necessary. It was the closest Marinella felt they could come to the truth. Fenouillet didn't speak sufficient English for Lambourne to question him directly, and thankfully Philippe had kept in the background.
'Before that, you recalled clearly the sound of water running and splashing. Not the river running, but something else. How far away was that sound? Could you tell what it was?'