Past Imperfect

Naugier ran through with Machanaud the remaining car sightings and timings, then flicked forward to some blank pages in his file and started writing: First car: up at 1.45–50. Second car: down at 2.15 (not heard by Machanaud). Third car: Caurin's tractor, down at 2.25. Fourth car: up at 2.45–50 (heard by Machanaud). Fifth car: down at 3.00, just minutes before Machanaud leaves himself (heard and seen by Machanaud). 3.03–05: Machanaud leaves on his solex, is sighted by… Naugier looked up towards Poullain. 'What is the name of the woman who saw Machanaud leaving?'

'Madame Veillan.'

Naugier wrote in the name, and added: 3.16–18: Caurin returns to his farm and discovers boy.Estimated duration of attack:40–60 minutes. Time of attack: 1.30-3.00. So certainly Caurin's tractor had passed while the attack was in progress, but possibly the first and second cars as well. He took out and lit a Gitane and blew out the first fumes hesitantly. With the various cars passing, if indeed there was someone else there that afternoon, they couldn't possibly have stayed on the lane. The final attack must have been a few minutes at most; any longer exposure in that position would have been too risky. For the rest of the time, they must have…

Machanaud's voice cut in. 'But it wasn't till later that I remembered that final car clearly. It was an Alfa Romeo.'

It took a second for Naugier to detach from his previous thoughts. He noticed Molet glaring at Machanaud; probably he had pre-warned his client about making uninvited comments during instruction. 'From your statement, I thought that it was a Citroen you saw?'

Molet stepped in before Machanaud put his foot completely in his mouth. 'It was — on my clients original statement. But later he went into the police station and advised of the change, which from checking I believe has never been recorded. He also later mentioned the same revised sighting to a gendarme in a local Taragnon bar. We expected this to be covered at a later instruction, at which stage my questions would have been put forward for you to pose to the gendarmes in question.'

'A bit late for that, isn't it,' Naugier barked. 'Your client seems to have brought the subject up himself.'

Molet duly nodded and looked down. One of the great inadequacies of the instruction process was that the examining magistrate could freely divert, while the lawyers were restricted by the schedule provided two days in advance of each hearing. Diversions were unchartered territory, to be avoided at all costs. The only consolation was that it also worked against the prosecution: Perrimond looked equally as uncomfortable.

Dominic's heart was in his mouth at the sudden change in questioning. He'd resigned himself to prepare for the later instruction and tie his answers in with Poullain's. But now with rising panic he realized that Naugier could turn on him at any second and he wouldn't know what to say.

Naugier turned towards Poullain. ‘I understand, Captain Poullain, you were the officer who took the original statement regarding the Citreon. To your knowledge was this at any later stage changed?'

Poullain fleetingly caught Perrimond's and Dominic's eye, but hid his concern quickly. 'Yes… I believe so.' He nodded back in the direction of Briant. 'A few days after his initial statement, Machanaud came into the station and saw one of my officers, Sergeant Briant, and he-'

Perrimond interrupted. 'Sir, I along with the defence council would like to protest. This was something scheduled to go into in more depth at a later meeting. We are therefore — as with Monsieur Molet — totally unprepared with any questions that could add valuable light. I see neither the prosecution or defence case benefiting.'

'That isn't quite how I feel,' Molet countered. 'I see my client benefiting from pursuit of this line of questioning. It's just that I feel he would benefit more with prepared questions, as is his right.'

Naugier held up one hand sharply. 'Gentlemen — in case you both need reminding. I, and I alone, will decide the benefit of any line of questioning at this or any future instruction hearing at which you are both present. You may still prepare your questions regarding this subject and propose them at a later date, as originally planned. But this now is for my curiosity.' Naugier pulled hard on his Gitane. 'Captain Poullain — I suggest you finish your answer.'

'Monsieur Molet was correct to mention inconsistencies, because that is exactly why no record was made of the change in statement.' Poullain was more confident, firm. The few seconds interruption had allowed him to gather his composure. 'Machanaud came into the gendarmerie a few days after his initial statement. It was late in the evening and he was very drunk. He advised that he now remembered more clearly the car that passed — it was an Alfa Romeo sports. An open top sports. In checking, there were no other sightings of such a car, but in any case we were about to ask Machanaud in to make his statement official when a day or so later he met one of my other men in a local bar. This time he said that it was an Alfa Romeo coupe that he saw.'

Molet exhaled audibly. He could see already where it was heading; his worst fears at the issue being tackled early were being realized.

Naugier gave him a sharp look, warning off any possible interruption, and turned back to Poullain. 'Well, surely one or the other should have been entered.'

'Possibly. But with Machanaud changing his description to an Alfa coupe, we started to have doubts. We had already fully investigated the driver of such a car and eliminated him from our enquiry. He was in a local restaurant at the time of the attack — at least three waiters saw him.' Poullain waved one arm. 'With us asking about the Alfa coupe in the village, there was a lot of local talk. It looked as if Machanaud had simply changed his description to suit. And because the car in question had been eliminated, we thought such a change in statement could only further incriminate Machanaud. He'd been drinking on both occasions — so we decided as much for his benefit to stick with the original statement. That was the one we trusted most, free from corruption by village gossip.'

Molet shook his head, lifting his eyes skyward as if for divine help. 'So now we are supposed to believe that all of this was done for my client's benefit. Ridiculous! My client's later description of the car was consistent on both occasions. I went over this with him several times.'

'Nice to know you are so certain, monsieur Molet.' Naugier raised a sharp eyebrow. 'Especially when it appears your client was probably drunk.' He turned to Machanaud. 'How much had you drunk the night you went into the gendarmerie to change your statement?'

'I don't know exactly… perhaps a few eau de vies, some beers.'

'A few…some? Try to be more precise,' Naugier pressed. 'Did you have more than normal?'

'Yes… yes, probably. I met with a friend I hadn't seen since we worked together in the Spring.'

Naugier looked between Poullain and Molet, as if pressing home a final seal of understanding. Machanaud was a known drunkard and bar slouch. A 'few more than normal' meant that he was ratted. 'Hopefully this has cleared up this misunderstanding. You may, as I mentioned earlier, Monsieur Molet, pursue this line of questioning at a later instruction when we go back over previous statements. And Captain Poullain, I would suggest that in future you put everything in files you present to me — and let me decide whether or not they should be disregarded.'

The noise of the trees swaying in the breeze seemed much louder in the silence following. Poullain muttered 'I understand', while Molet merely nodded and contemplated some dried leaves floating past.

That was it, thought Dominic. He felt a sudden wave of relief wash over him. Weeks of worry, and in the end hardly any blood had been shed. The fact that the file entry had been buried equally to avoid local hierarchal awkwardness had never even surfaced, and now looked unlikely to at any later date. Dominic had panicked halfway through that Naugier would suddenly wheel around on him. Only now were the knots in his stomach easing. A low sigh escaped, lost among the wind rush through the trees.

And as quickly Dominic was swept with guilt. How could he be relieved at just avoiding some awkward questions, when what he had witnessed had probably quashed one of Machanaud's last chances of salvation? He followed Molet's contemplative gaze towards the river: some sunshine broke briefly through the trees, flickering off its surface. Glimmers of hope, fading just as quickly as the clouds again rolled across. He had built up a wariness and fear of Molet, and now found himself empathizing with him.