‘This is a charming idea,’ the Baron said, emerging to brandish a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne, which he proceeded to open. ‘I’m honoured to be welcomed by three such glorious women.’
He was introduced to Virginie and avoiding her nose, kissed the air in the vicinity of her ears before embracing Pamela and Fabiola and greeting Gilles and Bruno. They were holding empty champagne flutes, ready to hand them to Fabiola, Virginie and Pamela once the Baron had filled the glasses.
‘Not good news on the radio, a fire in the woods east of Belvès and another north of St Pompont. The pompiers are trying to prevent them joining up and becoming more serious,’ the Baron said, drawing Bruno and Gilles aside and speaking in a low voice. ‘With this wind we could be smelling the smoke before dinner is over. We might even have to move indoors from the terrace.’
Bruno knew the area, a thinly populated region with a lot of old woodland, stretching about twenty kilometres northwards to one of the most celebrated stretches of the River Dordogne, where it was flanked by the three castles of Milandes, Beynac and Castelnaud. Quietly he explained to the Baron and Gilles what he’d learned from Ahmed about the shortage of water tenders.
‘We’d better eat soon, in case I’m called away,’ he said, and asked Gilles to bring out the green gazpacho and start serving while Bruno went into the kitchen to put the pumpkins back into the oven. He sliced the fat tourte of bread and took it out to his friends on the terrace and sat down to enjoy the chilled soup.
To his surprise, Fabiola was holding Virginie’s face. She had unpeeled the bandage and was looking carefully at her broken nose, still swollen and now marked by a wide purple bruise.
‘How on earth did this accident happen?’ she asked, glancing quickly at Bruno. ‘I don’t think you walked into a door. It looks to me as though somebody slapped you very hard.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Virginie. ‘Just a stupid cop. Bruno came along in time to stop anything worse happening.’
Merde, Bruno thought to himself. The story would doubtless emerge when Baldin was formally charged but he didn’t want rumours to start spreading before that.
‘You were doing very well on your own, Virginie,’ he said. ‘I think we’d better leave it there for now. The cop has been suspended, there’s the usual internal police investigation under way and I’m told he’ll be formally charged with assault. Now, we’d better eat before the next course is ruined. Red wine or white?’ he asked, rising with a bottle in each hand, poised to pour.
Fabiola wasn’t going to let it rest, though. Ignoring Bruno, she asked Virginie where she’d been treated. ‘A police doctor. They didn’t want me going to the emergency room at the hospital since the cop who attacked me had been taken there after I slashed him with a scalpel.’
‘This sounds rather serious,’ said Pamela. ‘Are we to presume this was a sexual assault by a policeman?’
‘I’m afraid it was,’ said Bruno. ‘But please do eat up. We have what could be a serious fire south of the Dordogne and I may get called away.’
He began to eat and the others followed suit, except for Fabiola.
‘I’m very sorry that your visit here has been marred by this, Virginie,’ said Fabiola. ‘I thought you were working in the police lab in Périgueux. How come you were alone?’
‘One of the staff was on maternity leave and the chief technician had been taken to hospital last week for an unexpected appendix operation,’ Virginie replied. ‘The third one was in court, testifying on forensic evidence. It was just bad luck that all three were absent.’
‘Virginie’s work has been a great success,’ Bruno said, in another attempt to change the subject. ‘She’s helping us resolve a really fascinating thirty-year-old murder case.’
‘A sexual assault in a police station, and the assaulting cop taken to hospital after being stabbed by a young woman with a scalpel,’ said Gilles. ‘You won’t be able to keep that out of the press.’
‘Nor should it be kept out of the press,’ said Pamela. ‘I’ve half a mind to call Phillipe Delaron. What about you, Gilles? What do you think?’
‘I think we should listen to Virginie and Bruno and let the law take its course,’ Gilles replied. ‘This sounds to me as though it could be a messy case, a cop taken to hospital after being stabbed. The police union will get the cop a good lawyer. He might even try to get Virginie charged with assault.’
‘Please, just stop,’ said Bruno, rising to take his empty soup plate to the kitchen. ‘And all of you be assured that there is irrefutable evidence that this cop was engaged in a sexual assault on Virginie. I won’t go into details but this case is solid and the two top cops in Périgueux, male and female, are determined to throw the book at this bastard.’
He collected the rest of the soup bowls, except for Fabiola’s who was still eating, and went into the kitchen to take the roast pumpkin dish from the oven, put the serving dish on a tray and take it out to his friends. To his relief, they were talking about the fire to the south, and sniffing at the wind to see if there was any trace of smoke on the steady breeze. Bruno put the dish onto the table and at once their noses caught the heady scent of sage, maple syrup and roast pumpkin. The conversation shifted at once to the food and the red wine, just as he’d hoped.
23
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