‘Merde,’ J-J replied. ‘You’re right. And the answer is that I don’t know. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The gendarme general here has arranged for her to be temporarily assigned to us. She’ll get here early tomorrow afternoon so I’ll want you here for a conference some time around two.’
‘That’s fine. I have to be in town for a Prefect’s meeting at noon,’ Bruno said.
‘Sabine Castignac is twenty-eight, born in Bordeaux. She’s been in the gendarmes for six years, just been promoted to sergeant and she’s passed the exam for officer training school. So she’ll be able to deal with it professionally.’
Mon Dieu, Bruno thought to himself. J-J was never the sensitive type but this was a bit cold-blooded, even for him. He would have to find a way to steer J-J towards handling this young female colleague with considerably more care.
‘Congratulations, J-J, you must be pleased. It looks like all your years of work on Oscar are finally coming good,’ Bruno began. ‘But what do we know about Sabine’s family? It’s the mother we need to talk to – she’s the one who knew your Oscar and got pregnant by him so she should be able to give us his real name. And there must be family photos. We’ll need all that, and the date of their wedding.’
‘And does Sabine know what this is all about?’ Bruno asked. ‘Might it make sense to bring in another woman to support her through this? I could ask Yveline. She’s wise and she’s smart and I suspect Sabine is going to need all the help she can get. And now that Sergeant Jules has bought a house there’s a spare lodging at the St Denis gendarmerie where Sabine could stay while your investigation proceeds. She could be a real asset if we handle this right.’
‘Good thinking, Bruno. You ask Yveline and I’ll see you in my office at two tomorrow.’
J-J ended the call and Bruno sat for a long moment, thinking of the drama of a long-gone murder investigation that was about to engulf Sabine’s family while they were still mourning the death of their son and brother in Mali. J-J would leave no stone unturned and no family privacy protected in his determination to resolve the case that had nagged at him throughout his career. Worse still, Bruno suspected that the investigation was unlikely to come up with any clear answers about a murder that had taken place thirty years ago. Oscar had never been reported missing by family and friends so there were no relatives still grieving and seeking closure for their loss. Witnesses were likely to be dead or forgetful and leads would be thin. J-J’s obsession could tear a family apart for a very dubious outcome.
7
Virginie, the student recommended by Elisabeth Daynès to reconstruct the face from Oscar’s skull, had been at work for a few days when Bruno and the Mayor called in to visit her at the police lab in Périgueux. It had been Bruno’s idea to visit Virginie before the Prefect’s meeting. Having spent time with Claire at the kennels the previous day, Bruno was struck by the contrast between the two women. Claire so relaxed and full of confidence in her skills, while Virginie – admittedly much younger – seemed quite intense and less sure of herself.
‘Are you settling in all right?’ Bruno asked her, after introducing himself and the Mayor, and pointedly not looking at the metal ring Virginie wore in one nostril and the studs in her eyebrows and lower lip. ‘Is there anything that you need?’
‘Everything is fine, thank you, and Madame Daynès told me to say that she sends you her special regards,’ she said. ‘I’m really grateful to have this opportunity and everybody here has been very kind and helpful. I even have my own room at the student hostel, which is more than I had in Paris.’
Virginie was wearing a white lab coat that was far too large for her, almost reaching her fluorescent orange running shoes. The rolled-up sleeves revealed a complex geometric tattoo above one wrist. Her pink-dyed hair was rolled up into a tight bun revealing pretty ears that rose into a slight point, almost like an elf. She wore no make-up but her clear skin didn’t need it. Her eyes were splendid, huge and dark. Bruno knew that she was in her early twenties but she looked no more than sixteen. He suspected her waif-like appeal might attract a parade of curious and admiring policemen inventing reasons to visit the lab. He’d better have a word with J-J about it.
‘Where’s Oscar?’ the Mayor asked. Virginie looked blank.
‘The skull,’ Bruno explained. ‘That’s what J-J – I mean Chief Detective Jalipeau – has always called him.’
‘I see. I was told to call him Exhibit A,’ she said, and gestured to a corner. ‘He’s over there on a rotating stand in that thing that looks like a microwave. It’s a laser linked to a computer, making an exact image in three dimensions from which the 3D printer is building the copies I’ll work on. It also means that Madame Daynès will be able to monitor what I’m doing in real time.’
‘Copies?’ Bruno asked. ‘Why do you need more than one?’
‘To try alternative eye colours, different noses, different hairstyles and body mass index.’ She sounded impatient, almost bridling at someone who seemed to question her skill. He gave a friendly nod to encourage her and she relaxed a little.
‘It’s only the cost of the extra plastic,’ she said. ‘Six or seven euros each for an identical skull. That’s how I was trained to work.’
‘J-J told me the dead man’s hair was quite long and blond, not shoulder-length. You should check that with him.’
‘What’s your schedule here?’ the Mayor asked. ‘I mean, how long do you think it should take?’
Virginie lifted her chin and gave them both a determined look. ‘I’ll work as long as I can
