Death on the Pont Noir - By Adrian Magson Page 0,23
his colleagues were here on a fact-finding visit. You should not read anything into that. As a region, we are no more important than any other for future itineraries. But it makes good sense to check that all is well here should the president decide to include us in any future tour.’
‘Does that mean he’s coming or not?’ Rocco felt a momentary impatience with Massin’s tortuous evasiveness. Either he knew de Gaulle was planning on coming to the region or he wasn’t; pretending otherwise was a waste of time.
‘I cannot say.’ Massin sniffed and stretched his neck against his shirt collar, as if the admission was being wrenched out of him. ‘All I can say is, you should be aware that increased security measures in light of this latest attempt will mean everyone will be expected to be in attendance. If we are given the green light, I don’t need to tell you that every potential hazard will be investigated in advance.’
‘By “hazard”, you mean threat.’
‘Yes. Colonel Saint-Cloud and his staff are checking a list of known agitators, and this will be circulated to all offices in the region. But I’m sure you know which groups they include.’
Rocco nodded. Take your pick. OAS. Resistance veterans. Military men. Communists. Government conspirators. Police. Students. Algerians. The CIA. The British. The favoured list among conspiracy nuts was endless. Even NATO had taken a crack, so rumour had it, a temper tantrum in response to de Gaulle’s decision to withdraw French military facilities from the organisation. Rocco didn’t believe that one, if only because it would have required a full council meeting and de Gaulle’s signature to assassinate himself. He doubted even Le Grand Charles was capable of that level of arrogance.
‘What do you want me to do?’ He still couldn’t figure out why Massin had told him all this. Somehow he doubted this was an occasion for covering his back.
‘You may need to assist in preventing anything happening. As you know, Saint-Cloud runs a very small group, albeit very effective in what it does do. But while he is away checking routes and itineraries, he cannot do his main job, which is to oversee closely the protection of the president.’ He rearranged the already immaculate pencil. ‘It would be a disaster if anything were to happen in this region.’
Rocco nearly laughed at the outrageousness of the build-up. So Massin was covering his back after all. He asked, ‘Why me?’
Massin hesitated before answering, a flicker of something approaching doubt on his face. Then he said, ‘Because Colonel Saint-Cloud suggested it. He asked for names and selected you. His own team is stretched very thin, so he is having to use whatever facilities he can. Meet him here tomorrow at nine for a briefing.’
‘I’ve never been called a facility before,’ Rocco murmured dryly. ‘But I’ll do what I can.’ Short, he thought, of deliberately throwing myself in the way of a bullet, anyway.
Massin’s eyes were hooded when he looked up. ‘I’m delighted to hear it. I trust you will not let me down. You hear me?’
Home in Poissons earlier than usual, Rocco called in at the co-op store for some meat for dinner. Mme Drolet, the owner, fluttered her eyelashes and hurried round the end of the counter on high heels to join him, bringing with her a rush of perfume and powder.
‘I’ve got some nice cutlets,’ she suggested breathlessly. ‘Very filling for a big man like you.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, wondering if she spoke to Delsaire, the plumber, this way. He’d met Madame Delsaire, who looked the sort to eat thistles for breakfast. ‘I’ll just take some minced beef.’
‘Don’t you know how to cook cutlets?’ She reached up and patted her hair, which was frozen in some kind of unmoving, shimmering beehive. ‘I could pop down and do them for you, if you like.’
‘There’s no need—’
‘It’s really no problem. I’m nearly done here. Just give me fifteen minutes to freshen up.’
If she was any fresher, Rocco decided, she’d be as crisp as a newly peeled endive. He pointed at a piece of beef under the glass and said, ‘That minced would be fine. Really.’
She gave him a half smile, one eyebrow curving upwards. ‘There’s no need to be frightened, Inspector … I was only offering to cook, you know.’ She picked up the beef and fed it through the mincer, turning the handle with what seemed unnecessary vigour, and he wondered whether she had eaten any husbands in the past.