Murder on Brittany Shores (21 page)

‘Thank you very much then.'

Dupin hung up. He had remembered correctly. And he had found out something interesting. Leussot was a permanent employee of the institute.

The garden, to which Dupin had not paid much attention earlier, was not so small after all and it was clearly meticulously well cared for. But despite all the calculated grandeur, it seemed fussy and impersonal and the plants looked as though they had been counted: two camellia bushes, one in white, one in a delicate pink, a rhododendron, some mimosas, a sky-high dog rose, a smattering of cowslips, narcissi, azaleas, a stunted juniper. A prototypical Breton garden. Walking slowly, he returned to the mayor's office.

‘Investigative duties. My apologies again.'

Dupin made a vague but conciliatory gesture and sat down again.

‘So you were in the
Quatre Vents
yourself the evening before last. You were sitting at the table right next to Konan and Lefort, and nothing unusual struck you?'

There was a flicker n Du Marhallac'h's eyes, perhaps fear, Dupin couldn't say.

‘No. I've already thought about it of course. It was like it always is. I remember Konan going to Monsieur Tanguy's table once. Monsieur Tanguy from the diving club. The amateur archaeologist. Lefort didn't sit at the table much, Konan did most of the time. Lefort spoke to a young woman who looked like a sailing student.'

‘Did you see him speaking to Madame Menez, Madame Lefort's assistant?'

‘No.'

The ‘no' had come quickly and definitively.

‘Monsieur Konan was sitting on his own for a while too,' said the mayor.

‘And you didn't notice anything suspicious generally? At the table? Or at all?'

‘No.'

‘You were closer to the two of them than anybody else that evening.'

The mayor looked at Dupin a little uncertainly.

‘We're especially interested in one half hour or three quarters of an hour. Between quarter past eight and nine o'clock.'

‘If I recall correctly, they sat together at the table for a few minutes at the end, Konan and Lefort. And they were still eating something. But I have to admit that I'm not absolutely sure.'

‘The two of them didn't seem different from usual to you?'

‘Not in the slightest.'

Dupin flicked through his notebook.

‘Did you see a Docteur Le Menn? Speaking to Lucas Lefort?'

‘No.'

‘Devan Le Menn, a GP, with a practice in Sainte-Marine.'

‘Oh, I know him. Everyone here knows him. Most of them are his patients. A very good doctor. But I didn't see him. No. I don't think he was there.'

‘The two Nuz daughters saw him. Just briefly. Speaking to Lefort. At the bar.'

‘Funny, I didn't see him. But there's constant a coming and going in the evenings. Some people are just quickly picking up something to eat. You can get everything to go.'

‘Le Menn is a regular?'

‘Oh yes. A friend of Monsieur Lefort. And also his doctor.'

‘A friend?'

That had slipped out of Dupin's mouth in surprise.

Du Marhallac'h seemed confused for a moment, then he smiled:

‘Of course, you've already heard a huge amount about Lucas Lefort already.'

‘Do you think he was different from what people say about him?'

‘I…' the mayor hesitated briefly. ‘First of all I have to say: I've only known him reasonably well for the last two years. But really not very well. I try to see things in an impartial way, not to have prejudices, to be objective, to mediate, that's my disposition – and that's how I understand my role. It's an odd world out there – an odd community of odd people. So it's difficult to judge something from the outside. It's often a question of old stories. I try to stay out of that. Lucas Lefort was a prominent man. Well-off. A dyed-in-the-wool bachelor, I reckon. What's certain is that he was completely different to his sister. To everyone else out there. That is definitely true. But, as I said, I didn't even know him well.'

Dupin made a few scrawled notes.

‘Apparently you announced you wanted to reconsider his new plans for a greater tourist development in the Glénan sympathetically – all earlier plans having been vehemently rejected by your predecessors.'

Dupin's voice changed at this sentence, not that he had meant it to. It became hard.

‘
Reconsider sympathetically
is overstating it. I just made it clear that the council and I wanted to take a meticulous look at the new ideas and plans, and wouldn't toss them out wholesale ahead of time. What we received was a very ambitious project for sustainable, ecological tourism that, yes, does also concern the sailing school and the diving school, but goes a good bit further than that.'

‘I didn't think the plans had even been received yet.'

‘Not officially. They have not been submitted as of yet. But Lucas Lefort presented the project to us for the first time at a meeting a few weeks ago, informally. Which is absolutely routine,' Monsieur Du Marhallac'h had switched into a mayoral style of speech. ‘As I say: we have not received any official proposal – and in any case, it's clear that an implementation is rather unlikely. The coastal protection laws are extremely strict on all French coastlines. And what's more, the Glénan are a designated conservation zone, which means, in fact, nothing is allowed.'

‘If I understand correctly, hundreds of sailing and diving students stay the night where nothing at all is allowed, albeit in the most basic conditions. On several of the islands.'

‘You know France. We have our strict laws – and we have what happens in practice.'

Dupin couldn't tell if there was a note of criticism or pride in this.

‘Was Monsieur Lefort acting alone in this matter? I mean, was he running this project off his own bat?'

‘I couldn't say.'

The mayor looked gravely at Dupin.

‘You're wondering whether Monsieur Konan and Monsieur Pajot might have been involved? Financially?'

‘For example. Monsieur Pajot was a building contractor, it would not be that far-fetched at all. And Monsieur Konan was an investor, amongst other things.'

‘It is absolutely possible, Monsieur le Commissaire, but it's pure speculation. Lucas Lefort always spoke of “I” and an anonymous “we”, but that didn't necessarily mean a plural.'

‘Did you know Yannig Konan better?'

‘No, just from the Glénan, from evenings in the
Quatre Vents
and the conversations there.'

‘And Pajot? Did you know him?'

‘No, not at all. I just know his name. And I know that he owns one of the two biggest construction companies in Brittany.'

The mayor's forehead furrowed in deep lines, a little theatrical, Dupin thought.

‘You are wondering whether there could be a story at the bottom of this that could have been a motive for murder?'

‘A big issue and lots of money is at stake with this project, if I understand correctly?'

Du Marhallac'h was silent.

‘So what did Lefort's specific plans for the islands look like then?'

‘He had a lot in mind. You must know that the sailing school is already one of the largest in Europe. This was about a tourism and sporting master plan. He was planning new developments on Penfret, Cigogne and Le Loc'h. Hotel complexes, sports complexes. Ecological, sustainable and exclusive. With a small harbour for yachts. He had a well-known architect from Paris on hand, he had plenty of connections at his disposal. Everything would have been run on wind and solar power, that's already the case on Saint-Nicolas, albeit on a smaller scale. A proportion of the revenue would have been put into the even more effective ecological protection of the archipelago.'

Du Marhallac'h was a perfect politician – and Dupin could hardly imagine anything worse. Slippery as an eel, ruthlessly elastic, a rhetorical show to hide other things, mostly personal interests and to pursue them uncompromisingly at the same time.

‘The local council is against this project.'

‘The
old
local council. There were utterly irrational entrenchments.'

‘I see. “Irrational entrenchments”.'

‘A project like this needed to go through every authority first.'

‘When did Lefort submit plans for developing the Glénan for the first time?'

‘Ten years ago. Approximately.'

Dupin made a note and underlined it vigorously. Twice. Du Marhallac'h peered curiously at the notebook.

‘Did he present them a second time in recent years?'

‘No, he must have let them lie for a few years.'

‘Who was amongst the opponents to this plans?'

‘Almost everyone. Even though most of them probably weren't very familiar with the plans at all.'

‘The most vehement opponents?'

‘His sister. I'm sure you already know that. Madame Menez too, certainly, the assistant. The whole sailing school. The head of the diving school, Madame Barrault. She is very prejudiced,' the mayor suddenly looked quite uncertainly at Dupin, ‘I mean: she has a very set opinion. Solenn Nuz too, of course. She is – she is the other owner of Saint-Nicolas. Bananec and Quignénec belong to her too. She – she naturally has her own interests…'

‘What do you mean by that?'

‘Nothing in particular.'

Dupin was aware that Du Marhallac'h was acting in a disloyal way. And Du Marhallac'h must have been aware that Dupin noticed it.

‘I think the majority of the residents on the coast were against the plans. In the past the politicians were too, for the most part. Definitely the press, the
Ouest France
as well as the
Télégramme.
Monsieur Leussot for example,' the mayor hesitated, ‘a marine biologist who also likes to work as a journalist, was passionately committed to opposing Lefort's plans. In my view it was a purely ideological fight, it doesn't interest me. My concern is to make everything more objective.'

There it was again. That unspeakable ways of a politician. Dupin glowered.

‘Did Monsieur Leussot write articles opposing Lefort's plans?'

‘Biased, drastic articles.'

‘And against the new plans too?'

‘As I said, Lefort had not yet presented them to the public, just to us, orally. An absolutely routine procedure. The media obviously got wind of it, it was not a clandestine meeting after all. But since not much is known yet, there have just been short reports in the papers so far. You mustn't forget that Lefort is still a famous person in Brittany – the great sailor. No matter how unpopular he may have been with some people.'

‘The marine biologist wasn't involved in these short reports?'

‘No. Not as far as I know.'

The shrill ring of Dupin's phone made both men jump.

It was Nolwenn.

‘If you could please excuse me again, Monsieur le Maire.'

It wasn't a question, Dupin had already stood up and was hurrying towards the door and into the garden. He picked up there.

‘That was complicated, Monsieur le Commissaire,' Nolwenn's voice was, by her standards, a little flustered, ‘the Prefect called them both: the public prosecutor and the investigative judge in charge. I'm to tell you he felt very uncomfortable doing it. He had to claim that there was an acute danger of suppression of evidence. He assumes the Director will lodge an appeal immediately. He knows Le Berre-Ryckeboerec. In fact he has a lot of respect for him, he…'

‘We've got the search warrant?'

Dupin felt an almost childlike joy.

‘We are already organising the operation.'

Dupin was relieved, although it was all still making him quite nervous, because there was no truly incriminating evidence to justify the search yet. He would need something watertight soon.

‘That's great, Nolwenn. Perfect. I'm still in the interview with DuMall … With the mayor.'

Dupin hung up. He thought for a moment and dialled Kadeg's number.

‘It's starting. We can get going on the search.'

‘I know.'

‘As I said: I want to know everything about the deals with
Medimare.
There must be papers, documents, data, find out everything. Don't hold back.'

‘I never do, Commissaire.'

‘Wait, one more thing, Kadeg: I want us to probe all of the business activities of the three men meticulously. Beyond
Medimare.
Every company and also every share, every investment. As far back as we can trace. Get someone on it.'

‘Will do.'

This time Dupin walked back through the garden very slowly, opened the door to the office and sat back down on one of the four simple chairs standing around the angular formica table. All with a marked lack of haste. Du Marhallac'h looked as if he was expecting a short explanation at the least. Which Dupin did not feel obliged to provide.

‘What does
Medimare
mean to you?'

The mayor looked quizzically at Dupin.

‘That means absolutely nothing to me.'

‘A company belonging to Pajot and Konan that buys and sells research results from marine biology. Patents and licenses.'

‘Oh, I've heard of that. Not of that company, just that the institute sells research results to companies.'

‘You don't know anything about the two of them owning a company like this?'

‘No.'

Dupin had the impression that he would not find out anything more of interest at this point. Not that he entirely trusted and believed Du Marhallac'h – he absolutely didn't – but there was nothing more to be done at the moment.

‘Thank you very much.'

The mayor was clearly at a bit of a loss at this abrupt end to the conversation.

Dupin stood up. Du Marhallac'h followed suit.

‘I'll see you to the door, Monsieur le Commissaire.'