This Night’s Foul Work

do, once she was able to articulate at all?’

‘She’d try to talk to you.’

‘To tell me what?’

‘The truth. And that’s what she did. She talked about the shoes. She said they didn’t matter. So she was telling us it wasn’t the nurse.’

‘But that wasn’t the first thing she said. It was the second.’

‘Before that she didn’t say anything that made sense, just quoted a line or two from Corneille.’

‘Who speaks those lines in Corneille?’

‘Camille. It’s in his play Horace.’

‘Ah, you see, Danglard, that proves it. Retancourt wasn’t just reciting stuff from school. She was trying to send me a message through another Camille. But I don’t know what it means.’

‘Because it wasn’t clear. Retancourt was still only semi-conscious. You can’t treat what she said to an interpretation, like you can for dreams.’

Danglard thought for a few moments.

‘The play goes like this,’ he said. ‘Camille is caught up in a fight between two sets of brothers, who are enemies. The Horatii on one hand and the Curiatii on the other. She’s in love with one of them, but he wants to kill a man from the other side, who’s her brother. Well, around your Camille, we have the same thing, sort of. Two cousins who are enemies, you and Veyrenc. But Veyrenc stands for Racine. And who was Racine’s big enemy and rival? Corneille.’

‘Really?’ asked Adamsberg.

‘Really. Because Racine’s terrific success as a playwright pushed poor old Corneille out of the limelight. They hated each other. Retancourt has chosen Corneille, and is pointing at his enemy: Racine. It must mean Veyrenc. That’s why she spoke in verse, so that you would immediately think of Veyrenc.’

‘Well, that’s just what I did. I wondered if she was dreaming about him, or if he’d infected her with his verse- speaking.’

Adamsberg put the window back up and fastened his seat belt. ‘Let me have a word with him alone first,’ he said, starting the engine.

LIX

VEYRENC WAS CONVALESCENT NOW. SITTING ON HIS BED, WEARING SHORTS, and leaning back on two pillows, with one leg bent and the other stretched out, he watched as Adamsberg, arms folded, paced up and down at the foot of the bed.

‘Does it hurt to stand on it?’ Adamsberg asked.

‘It stings a bit, I can feel it, but it’s not too bad.’

‘Are you OK to walk, drive a car?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Good.’

‘Now speak to me, my lord: I see from your pale face

That a worry torments you in some secret place.’

‘Correct, Veyrenc. This killer who murdered Elisabeth, Pascaline, Diala, La Paille, the gendarme Grimal, this person who opened graves and nearly killed Retancourt, who cut up three stags and a cat and stole the relics, it’s not a woman at all. It’s a man.’

‘Is that just a hunch? Or have you got some new elements?’

‘What do you mean by “elements”?’

‘Well, evidence.’

‘No. But I know this man knew enough about the angel of death to send us off on a wild-goose chase after her, stopping us looking elsewhere, while he was calmly going about his business.’

Veyrenc screwed up his eyes and reached for his cigarettes.

‘The investigation was dragging on,’ said Adamsberg, ‘and these women had been killed, and I was getting nowhere. A pretty good form of revenge for the killer. Can I have one?’ he added, pointing to the cigarette packet.

Veyrenc passed him the packet and lit both cigarettes. Adamsberg watched his hands. No trembling or sign of emotion.

‘And this man,’ said Adamsberg, ‘is someone in our squad.’

Veyrenc ran his fingers through his variegated hair and exhaled rapidly, a stunned expression on his face.

‘But I don’t have a single tangible element of proof. My hands are tied. What would you do, Veyrenc?’

The lieutenant flicked some ash into his hand, and Adamsberg passed him an ashtray.

‘When we searched far afield, sending forth all our men

Into distant domains in search of this our prey,

He was here, in our midst, and our quest went astray.’

‘Yes. Some victory, eh? One intelligent killer manipulating twenty-seven idiots.’

‘You surely can’t be thinking of Noel? I don’t really know him, but I can’t see it. He’s aggressive but not a killer.’

Adamsberg shook his head.

‘Well, who then?’

‘I was thinking about what Retancourt said when she was semiconscious.’

‘Ah,’ said Veyrenc, with a smile. ‘When she quoted Corneille, those lines from Horace.’

‘How did you know?’

‘Because I’ve been asking for news of her. Lavoisier told me about it.’

‘You’re very considerate, for a newcomer.’

‘Retancourt’s my partner at work.’

‘I think she tried hard to point the finger at the killer, but she hadn’t the strength to do it.’

‘ Did you doubt it, my lord?

Since you waited so long, to give her words their weight

Neglecting their meaning, until it was too late?’

‘So have you discovered it, Veyrenc? What she meant?’

‘No, I haven’t’ said Veyrenc, looking away to tap off his ash. ‘So what are you going to do, commissaire?’

‘Something very obvious. I’m going to lie in wait for the killer. Things are moving faster. He knows that Retancourt is bound to talk soon. He doesn’t have much time, since she’s recovering quite well – about a week, maybe. He absolutely has to finish the potion, before he’s intercepted. So we’ll expose Francine, without any obvious protection.’

‘Pretty classic,’ said Veyrenc.

‘A race against time isn’t original, lieutenant. Two guys run neck and neck around a track and the fastest one wins. That’s all. And yet thousands of people have been racing each other for thousands of years. Well, it’s just the same with this. The killer’s running, so I’ll run too. Not a matter of doing anything tricksy, just trying to get there before he does.’

‘But the killer’s sure to suspect that you’re going to try and trap him.’

‘Of course. But he’ll keep running, because he doesn’t have any choice either. He’s not trying to be original at this point, just trying to succeed. And the more elementary the trap, the less the murderer will suspect anything.’

‘Why?’

‘Because, like you, he’ll think I’m plotting something more intelligent.’