He wasn’t going to get much from this man, and the others were clearly too in awe of Tasker to say anything. A waste of time, therefore.
He said to the guards, ‘Take him to a separate cell and bring Tasker.’
When they brought the big man upstairs, he came without a fight, Rocco noted. He wasn’t surprised; he’d seen it before in groups with an obvious hierarchy. Better for the lead man to go voluntarily and try to score a point in front of his men than to be dragged out ignominiously by the heels.
He pointed to the chair. ‘Sit.’
Tasker did so, a sly smile lurking at the corner of his mouth. He glanced round at Desmoulins, and gave him a sneer, but pointedly ignored the two members of Godard’s squad who had brought him upstairs and were now standing by the door. ‘What’s up, copper, safety in numbers? Got to go mob-handed?’ When there was no answer, he changed tack. ‘Calloway give you the old silent treatment, did he? You should learn how to speak nice to people.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Where is he, by the way?’
Rocco eyed him coldly. The more he saw of this man the less he liked him. Very few people affected him this way – usually the worst of criminals or the most pompous of officials. But there was something about Tasker which went beyond the norm. It was as if he were trying deliberately not to be liked.
And that puzzled him.
He emptied an envelope containing Tasker’s personal effects onto the table. A large amount of cash in sterling and francs, a cheap pen, a packet of mints, a contraceptive in a foil packet, a comb, a wallet, a small key with no brand name.
‘I said, where’s Calloway?’ Tasker growled.
‘He is in another room, writing a statement.’
‘Statement?’ Tasker frowned, then sat up suddenly as Rocco picked up the key. ‘Hey – that’s my stuff!’ He reached forward but was brought up short by Desmoulins clamping a muscular hand on one shoulder and slamming him back in his chair.
Rocco signalled for Desmoulins to let him go, then dropped the key back on the table. ‘No need to get excited, Mr Tasker. It is merely “stuff”, as you call it. What is so special about it – apart from the money? That is a lot to be carrying around with you.’
‘That’s a crime in this poxy country, is it?’ Tasker’s eyes glittered and he suddenly relaxed, looking away from Rocco. ‘Like having a bit of fun.’
‘Of course not.’ Rocco dropped a finger on the key. ‘What is this for?’
Tasker’s face went blank. ‘No idea. It’s not mine. Probably someone else’s crap.’
Rocco changed tack. ‘I brought you up here to give you a chance to … spill the beans, isn’t that the expression?’
‘About what?’
‘About what you are doing here and why you wrecked the bar.’
‘We were visiting, that’s all. Like you said, seeing the cemeteries, a bit of food, some drink.’ He shrugged. ‘Yeah, okay, a lot of drink. The boys can get a bit excitable when they get away from the manor. Don’t tell me you’ve never let rip before.’
‘Manor?’
‘The area where we live.’
Rocco gave a cold smile. ‘Somehow I did not think you meant a big house.’ He scratched his chin. ‘So, you came for a visit and … it got out of hand. Is that all? Only, I have to say, Mr Tasker, the more I think about this, the more it seems to me to have been almost … deliberate.’
Tasker shrugged. ‘Think what you like. That’s all I’m saying.’ He scowled. ‘What’s Calloway making a statement about?’
‘What do you think? About your visit. He’s being very cooperative.’
There was a knock at the door. One of Godard’s men opened it to reveal a gardienne – a woman officer – standing outside. She was slim, with short auburn hair and freckles across her nose.
Alix Poulon, Claude Lamotte’s daughter.
At a nod from Rocco, she entered and placed a sheet of paper on the table in front or him. It was an estimate given by Madame Mote at the Canard Doré of the damage to the bar. Rocco whistled silently. She might have been shocked by the events, but it hadn’t prevented her making an itemised and generous assessment of what she felt they were owed. He pushed it to one side and looked up to find Tasker’s eyes fastened on Alix with the gleam of a predator.
‘So, you got women cops now,’ Tasker breathed, his eyes travelling