‘Why didn’t Laliberté say anything about this before?’ he asked quietly.
‘He likes the chase. He’s having fun. He’s watching you get deeper in and he likes that. The more lies you feed him, the bigger his pile of false statements.’
‘Even so,’ sighed Adamsberg. ‘Even if he knows I slept with Noëlla, he surely can’t link that to her murder. It must be a coincidence.’
‘You don’t believe in coincidence, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Neither does he. Where do you think the girl was found? On your portage trail.’
Adamsberg froze.
‘Oh no, impossible, Retancourt,’ he gasped.
‘Yes. In a little pool near the bank,’ she said gently. ‘Let’s stop and have something to eat.’
‘I couldn’t eat anything,’ said Adamsberg in an exhausted voice.
‘Well, I’m going to, otherwise I can’t carry on, and it would do you good too.’
Retancourt pulled into the next lay-by, and got out some sandwiches and apples. Adamsberg chewed a few mouthfuls mechanically, staring into the distance.
‘Even so,’ he repeated. ‘What does that prove? She was always on that damned path, morning and evening. She said herself it was dangerous. I wasn’t the only person to use it.’
‘In the evening there wasn’t anyone else much. Maybe the odd homosexual who wasn’t interested in Noëlla Corderon. The cops know a lot. They know that you were on that trail for a long time, from half past ten till half past one.’
‘Well, I didn’t see anything, Retancourt. I was drunk, as I told you. I must have been going up and down. When I fell, I lost my torch. Your torch, I should say.’
Retancourt took out a bottle of wine.
‘Don’t know what this is like,’ she said. ‘But have a little.’
‘I’m never going to drink again.’
‘Just a few mouthfuls. Please.’
Adamsberg obeyed, feeling shattered. Retancourt took back the bottle and corked it carefully.
‘They questioned the barman at L’Ecluse: apparently you said to him: “Any nearer and I’ll spear ye”.’
‘I was talking about my grandmother. She was a tough old bird who said it to the Germans.’
‘Tough old bird or not, they didn’t like the sound of that at all.’
‘Is that all, Retancourt?’
‘No. They also know you can’t remember anything about that night.’
There was a long silence. Adamsberg leaned back in his seat, looking at the roof, in a state of shock.
‘The only person,’ he said, ‘the only person I told that to was Danglard.’
‘Well, anyway, they know.’
‘I was always on the path, every day,’ he went on in the same dull voice. ‘But where’s any motive, or evidence?’
‘Well, there is a motive, isn’t there? The pregnancy test, blackmail.’
‘Unthinkable, Retancourt. A conspiracy, a devilish conspiracy.’
‘By the judge?’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s dead, commissaire.’
‘I don’t care. And they haven’t got any evidence.’
‘Well, yes. The girl was wearing a belt, bought that very day, a leather belt.’
‘So he said. What about it?’
‘They found it lying in leaves near the pool.’
‘And?’
‘I’m sorry, commissaire, but it’s got your fingerprints on it. They compared them with prints from your apartment.’
Adamsberg could no longer move. He was stupefied, powerless under the waves that were crashing one after another over his head.
‘I’ve never seen any belt. I couldn’t have touched it. I hadn’t seen her since the Friday night.’
‘I know,’ murmured Retancourt. ‘But the only suspect you can come up with is an old man who’s dead. Your only alibi is loss of memory. They’ll say you were obsessed with the judge, that your brother had already killed someone, that you were out of control. Placed in the same circumstances as your brother, drunk, in the woods, faced with a girl who said she was pregnant, you did the same as Raphaël.’
‘The trap’s closed on me,’ said Adamsberg, shutting his eyes.
‘I’m sorry to give you all this straight, but you needed to know. They’re going to charge you on Tuesday. The warrant’s all ready.’
Retancourt threw her apple core out of the window and drove off again. She didn’t suggest that Adamsberg take the wheel and he did not offer.
‘Retancourt, I did not do this.’
‘It won’t be any good telling Laliberté that. He won’t give a damn, deny it all you like.’
‘Retancourt, Noëlla was killed with a trident. Where on earth would I have got hold of one? Did it appear on the path, by magic?’
Suddenly, he stopped and slumped back in the seat.
‘What were you going to say, commissaire?’
‘Oh, my God, the logging site.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Half way along. There’s a site with a pick-up, and plenty of tools for guys who come and take out dead trees and plant new ones. I’d seen it, I’d been past it. I could have gone past, seen Noëlla, seen the weapon and used it. Yes, they could say that. Because there was earth in the wounds. Because it wasn’t the same trident as the judge’s.’
‘Yes, they could say that,’ Retancourt agreed, her voice serious. ‘What you told them about the judge doesn’t help you. On the contrary. They think it’s a crazy story, improbable and obsessive. They’ll use that to charge you. They have the surface motive, you’ve provided them with the deeper motive.’
‘An obsessive man, who’s had too much to drink, who’s lost his memory, and who’s being driven nuts by that girl. Me, reliving my brother’s life. Reliving the judge’s career. Crazy, off balance. I’m finished, Retancourt. Fulgence has got me. He’s got inside my skin.’
For a quarter of an hour, Retancourt drove in silence. Adamsberg’s state of collapse needed, she thought, the respite of silence. Probably days of it, driving all the way to Greenland, but she didn’t have time for that.
‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked after a while.
‘My mother.’
‘I understand. But it’s not the moment.’
‘You think about your mother when you’ve come to the end of the road. And I’ve come to the end of the road.’
‘No, you haven’t. You can still make a break for it.’
‘If I make a break for it, I’ve really had it. Proof of guilt.’
‘Well, you’ve certainly had it if you turn up at the Mounties’ headquarters on Tuesday morning. You’ll sit rotting here until the trial, and there won’t be any way of getting out to try and investigate what happened. You’ll be stuck in a Canadian prison, then eventually they’ll transfer you to Paris. Twenty years minimum. No, in my view, the only thing for it is to cut and run.’
‘Do you realise what you’re saying? Do you realise that you’d be making yourself an accomplice in my escape?’
‘Yes, perfectly.’
Adamsberg turned to his lieutenant. ‘But what if I did kill her, Retancourt?’ he forced himself to say.
‘You’ve got to run,’ she said, evading the question.
‘Retancourt, what if I did kill her?’ repeated Adamsberg insisting.
‘Well, if you have any doubts on that score, we’ve both had it.’
He leaned over to examine her face.
‘And you haven’t any doubts?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Why not? You don’t like me, and there’s a mountain of evidence stacked up against me. But you don’t think I did it?’
‘No. You’re not the sort of man who would kill anyone.’
‘How do you know?’
Retancourt pursed her lips slightly, seeming to hesitate.
‘Well, let’s just say that it wouldn’t interest you enough.’
‘Are you sure of that?’