‘Retancourt, don’t get my brother in the shit over this,’ pleaded Adamsberg.
‘No, it’s just the Gatineau cops who will be. You, commissaire, as soon as we arrive, clear your room with signs of haste, as if you were going to make a break for it. We’ll get rid of your stuff. You haven’t got much, so that’s handy.’
‘What do we do, cut it up and eat it?’
‘No, just dump it in the waste bin on the landing.’
‘Everything, clothes, books, razor?’
‘Yes, everything, including your service revolver. We chuck your clothes, and we save your skin. Keep your wallet and keys.’
‘The holdall won’t go in the bin.’
‘We’ll leave it in my wardrobe, empty, as if it was mine. Women have lots of luggage as a rule.’
‘Can I keep my watches?’
‘Yes.’
The brothers were both looking intently at Retancourt, one with a mild and gentle expression, the other mobile and alert. Raphaël Adamsberg had the same peaceful suppleness as his brother, but his movements were more lively, his reactions sharper.
‘The cops will be expecting us at the RCMP headquarters at nine,’ Retancourt went on, looking from one to the other. ‘When we still haven’t turned up after about twenty minutes, no longer, I guess, Laliberté will try to phone the commissaire at the hotel. No reply. Alarm raised. The cops downstairs will rush up to your room. Empty, the bird has flown. That’s the impression we have to give. That their suspect has disappeared, he’s already slipped between their fingers. At about nine twenty-five, they’ll come to my room, in case I’m hiding you.’
‘Where could you have hidden me?’ Adamsberg asked anxiously.
Retancourt raised her hand.
‘The Québécois are more prudish than the French,’ she said, ‘they don’t have naked women all over their magazine covers or hanging about on the lake shores. We’re going to bank on this shyness. On the other hand,’ she said, turning towards Adamsberg, ‘you and I are going to have to abandon any embarrassment, because this is not the moment for it. And if it bothers you, just remember that it really is a matter of life and death.’
‘I’ll remember.’
‘Well, this is how we do it. When the cops burst in, I’ll be in my bathroom and in fact in the bath, with the door open. We haven’t much choice.’
‘And Jean-Baptiste?’ asked Raphaël.
‘Will be hidden behind the open door. When the cops catch sight of me, they’ll retreat into the bedroom. I’ll start shouting and tearing them off a strip for walking into my room like that. They’ll call out their apologies from the bedroom, they’ll be embarrassed and say they were looking for the commissaire. I say what’s all this about, I don’t know where he is, he just told me to wait at the hotel, while he went to headquarters. They want to search my room. OK, but can you please just allow me to put something on? Yes, of course, they retreat further, and allow me to get out of the bath and close the door. You with me so far?’
‘Yes,’ said Raphaël.
‘I put on a bathrobe, a very big one, down to the ground. Raphaël will have to go out and buy me one, I’ll give you the size.’
‘Any particular colour?’ asked Raphaël.
This considerate question interrupted Retancourt’s strategic briefing and she thought a moment.
‘Cream-coloured, if you can find one.’
‘OK, cream-coloured. What next?’
‘Now, we’re in the bathroom, both of us and the door’s shut. The cops are in the bedroom. You see where we are, commissaire?’
‘No, I’m lost now. Because in the hotel bathrooms there’s just a cabinet with a mirror, a towel cupboard and nothing else. Where are you going to put me, in a Hollywood-style bubble-bath?’
‘No, on me, like I said. Or rather behind me. We’ll be one person standing up. I allow them in once I’ve got the robe on and stand looking shocked, in the corner, with my back to the wall. They aren’t stupid, so they’ll look over the bathroom thoroughly, including behind the door, and they’ll feel under the water in the bath. I’ll make them even more embarrassed by letting the robe gape open a bit. They won’t dare look hard at me, they won’t want to be taken for peeping toms. They’re predictable that way, and that’s our one advantage. OK, nothing in the bathroom, they go out and let me get dressed, with the door closed again. While they’re still searching the bedroom, I come out, fully dressed by now and naturally, I leave the bathroom door open. You’re back behind the door by then.’
‘Lieutenant, I haven’t grasped exactly what you mean by “we will be one person”.’
‘Have you ever done close combat training? When someone jumps you from behind?’
‘No.’
‘I’ll show you how it’s done,’ said Retancourt, getting up. ‘Let’s be as impersonal as we can. You have one person standing. Me. Big fat person, luckily for you. And we have another individual, who’s lighter and smaller. You. You are hidden under the bathrobe. Head and shoulders buried in my back, arms tight round my waist, invisible under the robe. To hide your legs, you’ll have to have your feet off the ground and twined round my calves, again shielded by the robe. I’ll stand in the corner, arms folded, feet apart, to maintain my centre of gravity. Do you follow?’
‘Christ Almighty, Retancourt, you want me to flatten myself to your back like a monkey?’
‘Or like a flatfish even. Flatten is the right word. It will last only a few minutes, two maximum, I’d say. It’s a tiny bathroom, they won’t take long to check it out. They won’t be looking at me, I won’t be moving. Nor will you.’
‘They’ll see me, Retancourt, it’s too awkward.’
‘No they won’t. I’m a big woman. I’ll be wrapped up in my bulky robe, wedged into the corner, looking out. My skin will be wet, so I’ll put a belt on underneath for you to hold on to, then you won’t slip. You can fix your wallet on it too.’
‘I’ll be too heavy,’ said Adamsberg shaking his head. ‘I weigh 72 kilos, you know. It’s madness. It’ll never work.’
‘It will work, commissaire, because I’ve done it before. Twice. For my brother, when the cops were after him for one thing or another. When he was nineteen, he was about your size, and he weighed 79 kilos. I put on my father’s dressing gown, and he clung on to my back. We managed four minutes. If that helps to reassure you.’
‘Well, if Violette thinks it will work…’ said Raphaël looking slightly panicky.
‘If she says so,’ Adamsberg said.
‘We have to agree on one thing. If this is going to work, we can’t cheat, and risk getting discovered. Total realism is our best bet. I really will be naked in the bath, naturally. So I really will be naked under the bathrobe. And you really will be clinging to my back. You can wear undershorts, but nothing else. Clothes make it more likely you would slip, and also they’d stop the robe looking natural.’
‘The folds would look awkward, you mean?’ said Raphaël.
‘Precisely. We can’t take that risk. I realise it’s embarrassing, but I really don’t think this is the moment to be prudish. We must be agreed on that before we start.’
‘It won’t bother me,’ said Adamsberg, ‘as long as it doesn’t bother you.’
‘I brought up my four brothers, and in extreme circumstances I think embarrassment is a luxury. These are extreme circumstances.’
‘But damnit, Retancourt, even if they leave you and your room without finding anything, they’re not going to give up the search. They’ll go through the Hotel Brébeuf with a toothcomb.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘So even after this vanishing trick, I won’t be able to leave the hotel.’
‘No, Raphaël will leave,’ said Retancourt, pointing to his brother. ‘Or in other words, you will leave, as him. You leave the hotel at eleven o’clock, wearing his suit, shirt and tie, and shoes. I’ll cut your hair in advance, to look like his. It’ll work because from a distance, you’re very alike. But they’ll be looking for you, dressed in your usual scruffy style. They’ve seen a smart businessman in a suit enter the hotel at ten-thirty. If he goes out again at eleven, they won’t bother about him. The businessman, that’s you commissaire, will just go to his car.’