Death on the Pont Noir - By Adrian Magson Page 0,57
to the fouines play, and going over and over in his mind the events at the scrapyard, he had decided on a course of action; but it needed Massin’s cooperation, something he couldn’t entirely guarantee.
Massin looked up from the papers he was studying, and sat back, eyeing Rocco with a dour expression. ‘Do you, indeed? Does it have anything to do with your current caseload?’
‘Actually, yes. Partly.’
There was a flicker of interest. ‘Go on.’
Rocco explained about the burnt-out truck with the body in the back, and the Citroën DS found in Bellin’s scrapyard, followed by Bellin’s execution. ‘I believe there may be a link between those vehicles and the Englishmen who wrecked the Canard Doré.’ He began to explain about the car and Bellin’s description of the driver, but Massin held up a hand to stop him. He picked up a sheet of paper from his in tray.
‘I have Dr Rizzotti’s report. It’s very detailed. A fake camera, an English cigarette under the mat. But why these men? You have no proof that they were involved in the fake ramming incident. And you still have no proof that it actually happened, beyond some farmer’s early morning ramblings.’
‘There’s the blood at the scene and we have a dead body. Two dead bodies,’ he amended, ‘if we count Bellin.’
‘The first burnt beyond recognition. I doubt even the miracles of modern science will prove who it was.’
‘Possibly not. But I think the dead man – a tramp named Pantoufle – happened to be at or near the scene. It was on his usual route and it never varied, winter, summer or spring. I don’t know if he died by accident or was killed deliberately. Either way, they burnt his body to conceal his death and prevent recognition.’
‘Buttons. Is that the sum total of your clues?’ Massin made it sound as if Rocco were grasping at straws.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s not much, is it? And you still can’t tie the Englishmen to the truck or the DS. Not definitely.’
‘No. Not yet.’ Rocco fought to keep a hold on his impatience. He felt he was fighting a losing battle, but refused to give way to Massin’s open scepticism. He doubted the commissaire had ever followed a clue in his life; had never felt the thrill of a case building out of virtually nothing nor ever felt the clarion call of a chase. ‘They were in the Amiens area at the same time,’ he pointed out. ‘Five men with no valid explanation for being here. And I recognised the smell of Calloway’s aftershave from the damaged DS. It wasn’t easy to forget.’
‘You noticed a man’s cologne?’
‘In a place where the customary fragrance is sump oil and burnt metal, it stood out.’ He wasn’t prepared to let it go. ‘They set fire to a dead man’s body and tried to hide the evidence; normal people don’t do that.’
‘Is that your argument?’ Massin threw a hand in the air. ‘You think these men, who trashed a local bar, are some kind of criminal group who also killed a tramp while pretending to make a film? If it’s the same men – and I say that with great emphasis – they appear to have some influence in the British Parliament, for God’s sake. Enough to get them set free!’
‘Exactly my point.’ Rocco kept his face straight. ‘How many ordinary people have that privilege? I don’t. Do you? Calloway,’ he added quickly as Massin’s face clouded dangerously, ‘has a different background to the others. It was he who made the phone call that secured their release. But he was still part of the group. I’d like to speak to the British police to find out more about him. I believe they were here for a specific reason.’
‘What reason?’ Massin tapped the report from Rizzotti. ‘How does any of this give you such an impression? Give me even a hint of why I should listen further, Inspector, because right now you are not making much sense. A bunch of English drunks on the rampage, that is all you have.’
‘I think it might have something to do with the attack Saint-Cloud is investigating.’
It was out before he could stop it, but it was too late to backtrack.
‘Ah, yes. Colonel Saint-Cloud and his security review.’ The words came out tinged with resentment. It was clear that he did not like Rocco being assigned to the security chief, but was powerless to stop it. Rocco wondered how long he’d been sitting here grinding his teeth over it.