Murder on Brittany Shores (17 page)

Dupin had walked a few metres and already had the mobile to his ear when he suddenly stopped. Everything seemed infinite – even the silence, which was now even more powerful than during the day. The sea itself was just a steady, uniform, harmonious roar.

Dupin shivered. It was excessively ‘nippy' now. It was late and he was very aware that he had not eaten anything since the lobster and so had drunk a fair amount of cognac on an almost empty stomach and that it had generally been an extremely stressful day. But he needed to pull himself together again and concentrate.

He tried to get through to Riwal and Kadeg.

Riwal was engaged.

‘Kadeg?'

‘Monsieur le Commissaire.'

‘Where are you?'

‘We've just finished off the interviews and lists here in the
Quatre Vents.
'

‘It took that long?'

‘There were thirty people and plenty of questions and queries. We made thoroughness a priority. I believe that was what you wanted. Whatever you miss at the beginning, you never make up for. Now we have a serious list.'

Kadeg still seemed completely alert and ready for action.

‘And the diving centre and the sailing school?'

‘I've just spoken to the head of the diving centre, Madame Barrault. I firmly requested that she prepare a complete list of all current participants on courses and enquire which of them were in the
Quatre Vents
yesterday evening. We will have those tomorrow morning. Madame Barrault was in the
Quatre Vents
herself yesterday evening, by the way,' Kadeg deliberately paused in an artless-seeming way. ‘She only went later, after work.'

‘The diving teacher was there too?'

Neither Solenn Nuz nor Muriel Lefort had mentioned her. Muriel Lefort may have just missed her.

‘We have somewhat vague, contradictory statements on the timing. She thinks she arrived around quarter to nine. Solenn Nuz's daughters testified to quarter past eight. In any case she stayed during the thunderstorm, until midnight. Until the worst of it was over. Riwal will get the list of sailing students from Madame Menez, the assistant to…'

‘I'm up to speed. Where is Goulch anyway?'

‘He tried to get you, but couldn't. You didn't answer…'

‘Correct, Kadeg.'

‘Goulch and his people examined the boot again. Then they came here to Saint-Nicolas, they ought to be in the harbour now. He wanted to organise everything for the immediate salvaging tomorrow morning. The
Luc'hed
went back to the mainland after unsuccessful dives at the Méaban. They didn't find anything, apart from more canisters. Goulch decided it unilaterally, after he couldn't get you…'

‘I understand. Fine.'

Kadeg would touch on this many more times in one way or another.

‘How many customers from this evening were there yesterday evening too?'

‘We have identified twelve.'

That was quite a few.

‘We let the people go a quarter of an hour ago, lots of them were getting seriously bad tempered.'

‘You did what?'

That had not been agreed upon. There were strong words on the tip of Dupin's tongue.

‘Objectively, we had no reason of any kind or any tangible evidence to continue to hold them. Of course we have taken note of all their personal details.'

Dupin had to relent, much as it wasn't convenient – and as much as he would have liked to speak to some customers himself, ignoring police regulations on such things. But Kadeg had acted correctly.

‘Has anybody noticed anything suspicious then?'

‘Not a thing so far. The mayor of Fouesnant, Monsieur Du Marhallac'h was desperate to speak to you, by the way. He was there yesterday and this evening.'

‘What did he want?'

‘He wanted to know the status of the investigation.'

Dupin was not far from the
Quatre Vents
now.

‘We'll sit down again Riwal, you and I. I'll be right there.'

‘I think we should.'

‘Who is still in the
Quatre Vents?
'

‘Madame Nuz, Riwal and me.'

‘Good. Just one thing: Konan got into an argument with the former mayor a few years ago about salvage rights. To a ship, I gather. Speak –' Dupin leafed through his notebook and found what he was looking for, ‘to that diver, Monsieur Tanguy. And to someone in the
mairie.
I want to know what it was about.'

‘Incidentally, the Prefect was trying to get hold of you. He was highly indignant again.'

‘Let me worry about that. It is absolutely inappropriate to insert yourself into the – fully functional communication between the Prefect and the lead Commissaire.'

‘He…'

Dupin lost his nerve. He hung up. And sighed deeply.

He knew he wasn't going to get out of a quick conversation with the Prefect. No matter how hard he fought against it. He stood still for a moment and dialled Nolwenn's mobile number. It took a fraction of a second for her to answer.

‘Monsieur le Commissaire?'

‘Everything is okay, Nolwenn. The investigation is in hand.'

There was resignation in his voice.

‘The investigation is in full swing.'

This time he deliberately infused the sentence with energy.

‘
Abred ne goll gwech ebet
– quick never loses!'

This answer was one of Nolwenn's favourite sayings and probably intended as encouragement.

‘Have you picked up the trail yet?'

Dupin hesitated for a moment and reflected. He set off again. Slowly.

‘I don't know.'

He really couldn't say. Nolwenn knew that there was a point in every one of the Commissaire's cases when he picked up a scent – at different times and he was not always aware of it himself. But he only knew how to do one thing then: follow the trail, no matter how crazy it might seem. Everything else became – in his obstinate and occasionally pig-headed way – utterly irrelevant. Dupin defended himself vehemently every time somebody talked about his ‘method'. He definitely operated highly systematically, this was true, but swiftly one had to add: unsystematically systematically. He practised careful observation and examination of the facts obsessively (a passion of his since childhood), combined with logical analysis, but then he'd act in a way that seemed completely intuitive again, suddenly and impatiently following an idea, a feeling, an impulse, occasionally combined with a coincidence. Absolutely self-willed. And always decisive.

‘What does Solenn Nuz say about the case?' asked Nolwenn.

‘She…' Dupin did not quite know how to answer. Nolwenn's question had sounded almost as though she thought all he needed to do was ask Solenn Nuz if he wanted to know who the murderer was.

‘She is a huge help.'

‘I'm sure she is. The Prefect has spoken to Monsieur Konan's wife, by the way. It was a difficult conversation, the marriage was probably not in – good shape.'

‘Which means?'

‘Apparently they have been considering a divorce for a long time.'

‘Why?'

‘I don't know.'

A rare sentence from Nolwenn.

‘The Prefect is going to cut short his trip to Guernsey and be back in Quimper tomorrow lunchtime. I think,' Nolwenn's voice became suspiciously gentle, but without losing its firmness, ‘I think that you should call the Prefect. It's definitely the biggest case of his time in office and he is, as discussed, personally very involved.'

‘I know.'

He really did know.

‘This is a vast case for Brittany.'

‘I know.'

‘The president of the Breton National Council has tried the official commissariat number twice. And journalists from
Ouest France
and
Télégramme
and one from
L'Equipe,
from the regional office in Rennes.'

This didn't surprise Dupin – of course the biggest sports newspaper in the country would be interested in the death of an Admiral's Cup winner. Along with practically every other paper in France. Undoubtedly, a few national newspapers would feature the case. An ingenious triple murder! Even on the basis of Konan and Pajot's contacts in the capital alone.

‘Four callers hung up. Withheld numbers.'

‘Nolwenn?'

‘Yes, Monsieur le Commissaire?'

‘Have you ever heard anything about treasure hunts – here on the coast I mean, on the Glénan?'

‘The Breton waters are a unique, historical treasure trove, Monsieur le Commissaire.'

This was just the topic for Nolwenn, Dupin recognised the intonation from her ‘Breton lessons'.

‘Myriad ships from all eras lie on our seafloor – magnificent merchant ships, warships, expedition ships, cargo ships, passenger ships, private yachts, everything. Even Roman galleys!'

‘I'm thinking of treasure on board old ships. Valuable things – like in books and films.'

‘There are always significant salvages of valuable cargo. Even of precious metals. The largest find near the Glénan was made in the sixties. An old corsair, with half a ton of gold.'

Dupin was impressed. Now that
was
a treasure.

‘Even the “Tigress of Brittany” crossed the waters of the Glénan.'

Dupin didn't fully understand what she meant by that – perhaps solely due to the Tigress, numerous sunken ships were to be reckoned with here. Nolwenn herself didn't elaborate.

‘If you like, I'll research the most valuable finds for you.'

‘You don't need to.'

‘There are a significant number of treasure-seekers, even some veryprofessional ones. Even a few companies. But most of them are amateurs. There is an association of underwater archaeologists on the Glénan, which formed in the diving club. Is there something specific you want to know? Do you see a link to the murders?'

‘I don't know.'

It still sounded absurd.

‘How would you find out whether someone's got a good lead? Here on the Glénan?'

‘You wouldn't, I suspect. Nobody would let a single word cross their lips. Unless the real archaeologists in the diving club were involved, the Université de Brest or something. But I would only vouch for them up to a certain point.'

So, it was highly likely. If real treasure was at stake, nobody would blab about it.

‘You're right, Nolwenn.'

He hadn't actually intended to ask, but now it slipped out.

‘There are Roman galleys here?'

‘Tons of them! We fought the decisive sea battle against Julius Caesar in these waters. An unfair fight! We dealt him a devastating blow in 57BC, on land, man to man! Then the Romans holed up for a year and had hundreds of warships built in the Loire estuary. A huge, much stronger side. Yet it was a closely run battle.'

Dupin had shown a gap in his knowledge. He realised during the story that Nolwenn had already told him this episode in the course of the ‘Breton Lessons'. He hoped she would let him away with this.

‘I still need to see Riwal and Kadeg, then we'll call it a day. I'll be in touch tomorrow morning.'

‘How are you getting back to the mainland? Shall I take care of that?'

Dupin was relieved that Nolwenn had given up on the Romans.

‘There's still a helicopter on Saint-Nicolas. I think.'

Dupin realised that this was just an assumption on his part. But he would have heard if it had flown off. Or perhaps not, if he had been in Muriel Lefort's home at the time.

‘I really hope so.'

‘Good. And stick to your guns, Monsieur le Commissaire.'

‘Thanks, Nolwenn.
Bonne nuit.
'

Dupin had long since arrived at the
Quatre Vents.

Riwal and Kadeg were sitting at a table near the door and both of them swivelled their heads towards Dupin and nodded as he came in. They looked exhausted, Kadeg even more so than Riwal, despite sounding so eager just now. Solenn Nuz was nowhere to be seen.

Dupin joined them without a word. Riwal pushed four sheets of A4 paper stuck together towards him, a sketch of the room with the counter, clearly drawn tables and people represented by circles.

‘We have investigated nineteen customers from yesterday evening. Of those, seven come regularly and are known here. The rest are sailors and divers.'

Dupin leant over the sketch and got out his notebook.

‘The regulars?'

‘Madame Menez, the sailing-school assistant; Marc Leussot, a freelance journalist from
Ouest France,
he was there just now too, we've spoken to him; Kilian Tanguy, the diver, and his wife – in each case we've noted the times when they arrived and when they left,' Riwal pointed to tiny, painstakingly recorded figures in the circles, ‘then Du Marhallac'h, the mayor, whom we've also already spoken to; Madame Barrault, the diving instructor and head of the diving school.'

Dupin groaned softly. Sometimes it happened that he – for various reasons – actually thought himself unsuited to his job. That he had always had significant trouble remembering names was one reason, a serious one. People and faces however, he could remember without a problem.

‘That's quite a few.'

‘On top of that there were two people who were only here briefly, Madame Lefort and a doctor, Docteur Devan Le Menn, a GP.'

‘Nobody has mentioned him yet.'

‘Yes, that is a little odd. Only the two Nuz daughters remember him. Nobody else. They say that he also spoke to Lefort. Both of them think he was only there for a short time, ten minutes perhaps. Around quarter past eight.'

‘Docteur Le Menn is the name?'

‘Yes. He has a practice in Sainte-Marine.'

‘And he wasn't there this evening?'

‘No.'

‘Any other leads?'

‘Not yet.'

That wasn't much. The pickings were decidedly slim.