Murder on Brittany Shores (25 page)

‘Actually, what about the missing man from the Moutons, the angler?'

Dupin had completely forgotten him the evening before and this morning too, it was only as they were going past the desolate Moutons on the boat that he had crossed his mind again.

‘No news. We've checked whether there were any links to the Glénan, whether he came here sometimes or whether there are links to the three dead men – no, no and no. Apparently, he always moored between the mainland and the Moutons. Usually near the coast. His wife doesn't remember him coming out as far as this in recent years. And she also didn't know anything about a relationship with Lefort or either of the other two.'

‘That is strange.'

Riwal looked quizzically at the Commissaire.

‘This coincidence is quite strange, I mean. The timing. The proximity to the crime scene.'

‘But we're not aware of any connections yet. And we've had a severe storm. It's not uncommon for people to go missing during storms.'

Riwal was right. Dupin had been here for nearly four years, but it still gave him the creeps: the ‘lost or drowned at sea' statistic for Finistère far outstripped the murder statistic. Every coast-dwelling Breton had heard such ‘fateful stories' first-hand from people they knew.

‘How big are these Moutons exactly?'

‘Very small, a main island about two hundred metres long, a little island about thirty metres long. Lots of rocks.'

Dupin didn't pick up where Riwal had left off. He was thinking. Riwal interpreted the short pause incorrectly.

‘If you're wondering whether there are sheep there – no. The sailors call the white ridges of the surf “sheep”,
moutons
– and they, on the other hand, are always there.'

That hadn't been what Dupin was pondering.

‘Going back to Le Menn. I want a large-scale manhunt. Maybe we'll find his car. He must have parked it somewhere.'

Something was going on.

Riwal took a deep breath. ‘That leads us right to the heart of the case.'

He had spoken very off-handedly, as though absent-mindedly. Nolwenn called him
the druid
at moments like this. If Riwal's ‘mystical' side was essentially an amusing contrast to his appearance, his cheeky facial expression and his virtual youth (early thirties), it fitted with his new, decidedly stylish short hair even less. They had been speculating in the commissariat about whether this was the wedding haircut already. In two weeks' time, Riwal was going to marry the strikingly pretty daughter of one of the wonderful fishmongers in Concarneau's market halls. She worked for her father at the stall. Riwal was obsessed with langoustines, the medium-sized ones from Guilvinec, the ‘best in the world'. For a while he had bought them nearly every lunch break. At some point people in the office had figured it out and had certainly done so by the time Riwal was buying so many langoustines that he had to hand them out liberally in the Commissariat.

‘We have to talk to Le Menn's wife. I want to know everything about his links to Lefort, Konan and Pajot, down to the very last detail. Who can drive out to her immediately?'

‘Our two colleagues from Concarneau, Le Coz and Bellec, are on the islands too and right now they are speaking to the last of the sailing and diving course participants who were in the
Quatre Vents
two evenings ago.'

‘Take Bellec off that. This is more important now.'

Bellec did not waste any time. He came at things head-on.

Dupin was extremely uneasy. If Le Menn's disappearance was related to this case – what did that mean? What was going on here? Had there been another victim – or was the culprit on the run? Whatever had happened on this tiny speck of land – it had to do, Dupin felt, with its residents and regular guests. He would find the solution there. They had to look very carefully.

‘What about Kadeg and the institute?'

‘Nothing of interest so far. Kadeg last called half an hour ago. They have found the first documents and data relating to
Medimare.
But getting usable information out of them is no doubt not that simple. The press has got wind of the operation by the way,
Télégramme
and
Ouest France
are featuring it on their websites already. The radio station too. The director is acting like Rumpelstiltskin the whole time.'

‘I especially want you to take a look at the business documents involving Leussot's research. You should also speak to the researchers Leussot dealt with.'

‘I'll let Kadeg know.'

‘What about the headquarters of
Medimare
in Paris? Is there anything on that yet?'

‘Nothing relevant there yet either. Apart from the chief executive, the company officially only has scientific staff and a secretary, our colleagues are speaking to them right now.'

‘We need to examine everything, the account balances and transactions. The director's too, and his private accounts. As soon as possible.'

‘Nolwenn will sort it.
La tigresse.
'

Dupin smiled. Yes, Nolwenn would sort it. Even though there would be yet more trouble.

‘I also want information about the mayor of Forêt-Fouesnant's accounts.'

‘Do we have suspicious circumstances there? Without grounds, even Nolwenn won't manage that.'

‘But hopefully we will have the bank statements for all of the three dead men's bank details soon?'

‘Nolwenn is on it.'

‘I want to know whether there were transfers from business or private accounts belonging to the three to anyone here on the islands. No matter who. No matter how much.'

Dupin got out the Clairefontaine and saw that three-quarters of the notebook was already full.

‘Okay, let's look more closely at: Leussot, the mayor, Le Menn, the director of the institute,' Dupin leafed furiously, ‘also Tanguy. And Madame Menez, Muriel Lefort and Solenn Nuz.'

‘Madame Lefort and Madame Nuz?'

‘Yes, everyone.'

‘Then don't forget the two Nuz daughters. And the father-in-law.'

‘True. And I want to know what plans Lefort ever actually officially submitted for developing the Glénan – if he did ever even submitted any? What is there at the council in terms of papers? Statements, appeals, we should check the files carefully. Also whether there were proposals for projects on the Glénan submitted by other people in the last ten years.'

‘I could take that on, chief.'

‘I want to keep you here.'

Dupin knew that sounded a bit odd.

‘I want the two of us to have in-depth conversations with everyone out here again. What were the three men's relationships like exactly? I still need to know a lot more detail about who stuck by whom here, and and how. I'd like to have a precise picture of this world out here.'

‘I'll do that.'

Dupin stood up.

‘Just a few more things, Monsieur le Commissaire. We haven't been able to find out where Pajot was two evenings ago, nobody saw him. I suspect he was on his boat. By the way we now know when the three of them probably arrived on the Glénan. On Sunday around five o'clock in the evening, the Bénéteau attracted jealous glances, two boat-owners remember it. AndI finally spoke to Lucas Lefort's current girlfriend this morning. It was a bit complicated to get hold of her. She works in Brest in a luxury ‘spa'. Salt therapy and things. Funny Daerlen, a Dutchwoman. She had already heard about everything obviously, she was astonishingly composed. They had only known each other two months. In fact, she had wanted to spend the weekend with Lucas Lefort, but he cancelled when the weather was so good. Just the day before, Thursday. So the three seem to have set out quite spontaneously.'

‘Funny Daerlen?'

‘Yes.'

‘No joke?'

‘No.'

So Muriel Lefort's assessment of this ‘liaison' seemed absolutely correct. Mademoiselle Daerlen hadn't been a big part of her brother's life. Still. Coincidences were possible.

‘She didn't know of any conflicts Lucas had had recently. But it was probably just not the sort of relationship where that kind of thing is discussed. They last saw each other on Tuesday evening, in his house at the Sables Blancs. He seemed on top form then, she says. He told her about buying a loft in London.'

‘London?'

‘In South Kensington, Chelsea. It's where the wealthy are buying property out of fear of the crisis. The French now too. – – – Disgusting.'

That was a harsh word, in Riwal's view. Somehow well-planned ‘emigration' didn't fit with the picture that Dupin had gathered of Lucas Lefort. He didn't seem to have been particularly systematic. Not very rational in his actions.

‘The mayor's wife comes from London. She has a house in South Kensington.'

‘Excuse me?'

‘We happened to find that out at Du Marhallac'h's questioning yesterday evening.' Although he still said this in an off-hand way, Riwal's voice then hardened: ‘If you have a residence in England, you don't have to pay tax on a cent of your income here in France. Four hundred thousand French people “live” in London at this stage. France's sixth largest city! Many of them make their money here and then squirrel it away there. Seriously disgusting.'

Even though Dupin could understand Riwal's fury, he forced himself to return to the subject.

‘What connection could there be?'

‘None yet.'

‘Not so far anyway. Anything else of interest from – Funny, Riwal?'

‘No.'

‘I think I should speak to Madame Barrault.'

‘You wanted to eat something though, Monsieur le Commissaire.'

True. He desperately needed to eat something. And he needed a coffee.

‘I'll just get myself a sandwich. – Riwal?'

‘Yes, Monsieur le Commissaire?'

‘Did you know that this place is just swarming with dolphins? We saw some just now.'

Dupin hadn't planned to talk about them. Especially not so excitedly.

‘Yes, they like the Glénan. Shall I get you that sandwich, chief?'

‘No need. I'll go myself. Maybe I'll see Solenn Nuz.'

Dupin took a few steps towards the bar, turned around and came back again. Riwal was already standing.

‘Riwal, we'll keep Le Menn's disappearance to ourselves for the time being, for as long as possible.'

‘Good. If I have news, I'll get in touch straight away.'

*   *   *

The bar was empty. All the customers were sitting outside in the splendid sunshine. The older daughter, Louann, was behind the counter, busy with some glasses, and smiled as Dupin came in.

‘My mother isn't here.'

Dupin was amazed afresh every time – and almost shocked – at how similar the three women were.

‘Coffee and a sandwich, please.'

‘Cheese, ham? Or rillettes? We have mackerel, crab, spider crab and scallop rillettes.'

‘Scallop.'

‘Great.'

‘The coffee first.'

She smiled again and set to work. In the wonderful hissing of the coffee machine, Dupin's mobile rang. It was Goulch.

‘We've retrieved the boat, Monsieur le Commissiare. It was easier than we thought. It is now in one of the dry docks in Concarneau,' Goulch's voice spiralled upwards a little: ‘The Bénéteau had a series of expensive special technological features built into it, a little high-tech arsenal – a sonar that goes far beyond normal sonars, a detector for metal on the seafloor and a laser underwater camera.'

Dupin started.

‘What?'

He was certain he knew what this meant, but somehow it had wrong-footed him.

‘One moment,' he said.

Dupin left the bar and went back to the table where they had just been sitting. Riwal had already disappeared.

‘Do you think it was fitted out for treasure hunting?'

‘There is definitely special equipment for examining the seafloor – not just the immediate surface of the ground, the sonic waves from this sonar penetrate even two- or three-metre thick layers of sand. They're expensive gadgets. Professional quality.'

‘Anything else?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘On the boat. Other evidence or things to note?'

‘Not so far. Everything is wet of course, in the stowage space too.'

‘Maps, map materials?'

‘It all works on digital maps. The navigation,' Goulch stopped himself. ‘You mean maps that could have specific places in the sea marked on them?'

‘Yes.'

‘We haven't found any as of yet. Lots of things definitely went missing too, got washed out of the boat in the accident. During the storm and the hours on the seafloor.'

‘Are boats like this equipped with a blackbox? Do we have a chance of seeing where they were at the weekend? Before they got to the Glénan?'

‘Only larger ships. – What we can do, although there there isn't much chance it will work, is use the emergency frequency to radio everyone who is at sea in the area and ask whether someone saw the Bénéteau at the weekend. We'll send the request to all newspapers and radio stations too.'

‘Do that, Goulch.'

Louann Nuz appeared in the doorway of the
Quatre Vents
and came over to him with the sandwich and the coffee, swiftly placing everything in front of him and disappearing again.

‘We'll be in touch if there's any news.'

‘Good.'

Dupin hung up.

He still wasn't sure what to make of this new information. He felt like he was in an adventure novel. Like in a Tim and Struppi comic, which he always read if he couldn't sleep. He loved Tim and Struppi. Might this cold-blooded triple murder be about treasure? An old shipwreck with gold, silver and jewels on board? Had the three of them been on the trail of a treasure and someone had found out about it? Or vice versa: had the three wanted to steal the treasure from somebody? As outlandish as it sounded – which didn't mean much in Brittany anyway – it sounded realistic to Dupin right now.