believe Janine’s far-fetched tale. In fact, every instance pointed to her guilt—hiding out at a friend’s restaurant so that nobody knew she was there, that restaurant burning to the ground with its owner inside, and now the owner’s husband lying stabbed with Janine’s own kitchen knife. It was all too possible that the thumbprint on the knife was the victim’s own as he tried to grab it away from her, or pull it from his chest. People had been hanged in the past on less evidence when there was still a death penalty.
“We have to help her, Evan,” Bronwen said. “She’s already had enough rotten luck.”
Evan looked at Bronwen. Her eyes were pleading.
“I’ll come with you down to headquarters, Janine,” he said. “We’ll see what we can do.” Then he picked up the phone to call the squad car.
Chapter 22
Evan hesitated in the vinyl-tiled hallway and stood staring at the door he had just closed behind him. Usually there was satisfaction in bringing a case to a close, and a criminal to justice. Never had he felt more ambivalent than now. He wanted to believe that Janine Laroque was innocent, but reason told him that she had to be guilty. Unfortunately he was sure that D.I. Hughes would come to the same conclusion—and so would a jury. There was little hope of Janine getting off, unless he could prove that someone else committed the murder.
He sighed. He had done his job and delivered the suspect to the proper authorities. Now he could go home and catch up on some well-earned sleep. He had to learn not to become so emotionally involved with his cases, he told himself. A good policeman stayed detached.
A door opened down the hall and Evan realized, a second too late, that he should not have dawdled.
“Evans, is that you?” Potter’s voice echoed. “Where is he, then?”
“I—I had . . . I mean something else came up.” Evan was caught off guard.
“Something else came up? I gave you an order, sonny. It was up to you to obey it.”
“Look, I’m sorry.” Evan felt the color rise in his cheeks. “But when I say something else, I mean something more important. I found the Frenchwoman who’s the murder suspect everyone’s been looking for. I’ve just brought her in. She’s with Sergeant Watkins, waiting for the D.I. to get back.”
“And you got yourself a nice pat on the back for that, did you? Well, I’ve got a case to solve as well and I want that kid brought in here. Now do you think you can find him, or do I have to send squad cars out for him?”
“Oh, I found him all right,” Evan said. “In fact he was the one who told me where Madame Yvette was hiding out. I had a long talk with him, and I think you’re making a mistake, Sarge. I don’t think he set those fires.”
Potter’s face was a mask of stone. “Oh, and what makes you the expert suddenly?”
“For one thing he hero-worships a young fireman and he wants to be a fireman too when he grows up. For another he claims he has an alibi for the cottage burning. Another kid saw him climbing down the drainpipe after the fire had already started and they ran up to the fire together. That will be easy enough to check.”
“Kids? They’ll say anything not to snitch on each other, won’t they?”
Evan wondered if Sergeant Potter had any children of his own. If so, he was sorry for them.
“So you still want me to bring him in?” Evan asked.
“Of course I bloody want you to bring him in. If it’s not too much to ask, that is?”
“Right. I’ll go and get him now,” Evan said. “Please tell Sergeant Watkins where I am, in case he needs me for anything.”
He turned and strode to the front door, his feet making a satisfying clatter on the bare floor before he slammed the door behind him.
This is what happens when you’re a village constable, he told himself as he drove, somewhat too fast, back through Llanberis and up the pass. You get walked all over. People order you around. He allowed his mind to drift into a fantasy in which he went back to detective training and did so well that he jumped through the ranks to inspector in a few months. Then he pictured himself walking in and telling Peter Potter exactly what he thought of him. It was a childish daydream and he was