Dog Will Have His Day (Three Evangelist 2)

by Vargas, Fred

  Louis followed her, leaving Marc with Sevran. Lina had taken her place at the table again. Her hands were shaking, and her face was so contorted that she was no longer beautiful. Her features were so frozen that, for all the trembling of her body, nobody could have felt sympathy for her. Louis poured her some wine, pushed the glass towards her, and handed her a lit cigarette. She accepted both. She looked at him, breathed deeply, and her face relaxed into a milder expression.

  ‘He paid for it,’ she said, taking breaths between each word, ‘that damned dog from hell. I knew it would hurt us one day, me or my children.’

  Marc came back inside.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Louis asked.

  ‘Burying the dog.’

  ‘Good,’ said Lina. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish. I’ve taken revenge for Marie.’

  ‘No, you haven’t.’

  ‘I know, I’m not stupid. But I couldn’t spend another minute in the same house as that piece of filth.’

  She looked at them in turn.

  ‘What? Are you shocked? Are you going to mope over that filthy dog? I’ve done everyone a good turn by shooting it.’

  ‘You’re a cool customer,’ said Louis. ‘You didn’t miss.’

  ‘Just as well. But it’s not being cool, to kill a dog that scares you. That dog has always scared me. When Martin was younger – Martin’s my son – the dog bit him on the face. He’s still got the scar on his chin. Nice dog, eh? I begged Lionel to get rid of it then, he didn’t want to know, he promised to train it properly, he said it would settle down as it got older, and Martin had been teasing it. Never the dog’s fault, always someone else’s.’

  ‘Why did your husband keep Ringo?’

  ‘Why? Because he found the creature half dead in a ditch. He took it in, he coddled it and the dog recovered. Lionel is capable of getting sentimental over some clapped-out old typewriter when it gets back in working order, so I’ll let you imagine how he was when this puppy leapt into his arms. He’s always had dogs. I didn’t have the heart to object. But this was the last straw, Marie, my dear old Marie, no.’

  ‘What will Lionel say now?’

  ‘He’ll be very upset. I’ll get him another dog, something gentler.’

  Just then Sevran came into the room. He leaned a muddy shovel against the wall, and sat down at the table, though not in his place. He ran his hands over his face and hair, transferring more earth to them, before going out again to wash his hands. Then he went and held on to his wife’s shoulder, as he had before.

  ‘I should thank you all the same for getting here before the police,’ he said. ‘Better have that happen in front of you than in front of them.’

  Louis and Marc rose to leave and Lina gave them a pale smile. Sevran joined them at the door.

  ‘Can I ask you,’ he said, ‘if it’s possible . . .?’

  ‘Not to mention this to the police?’

  ‘Yes. Of course. What would they think if they knew my wife had fired a gun? At the dog, yes, but you know what the police are like.’

  ‘So what will you tell them if they ask to see the dog?’

  ‘That he ran away, that I don’t know where he is. We’ll say he never came back. Poor dog. Don’t judge Lina too hastily. Marie was her nanny, they’ve known each other for thirty-eight years, and she was due to be moving in with us. Since Diego disappeared, that’s her husband, Marie had been a bit of a lost soul in her house, and Lina had decided she’d better come and live here. Everything was ready. So Marie’s death gave her an awful shock. Bad enough that it was an accident, but if it was a murder, even worse, and then the dog . . . she lost control. You have to understand her, Kehlweiler, she’d always been scared of my dog, especially for the children.’

  ‘It bit Martin.’

  ‘Yes, yes, three years ago, he was still a very young dog and Martin had provoked him. So? What will you tell the police?’

  ‘Nothing. They can find things out for themselves, that’s their job.’

  ‘Thank you. If I can help you at all, about Marie.’

  ‘Have a think, both of you, when you’ve got over the business about the dog between you. What time did you leave the house that Thursday night?’

  ‘What time? I always leave at about six o’clock.’

  ‘With the dog?’

  ‘Yes, it’s true, that night he wasn’t around the house. He’d got out again. One time too many, you’ll think. I was furious, because I don’t like getting to Paris too late, I need to sleep before lecturing in the morning. I took the car and drove around a bit. I found him much nearer here than Vauban Cove – he was running into the village. I caught him, gave him a row and put him in the car. I couldn’t have guessed . . . what he’d been up to, could I?’

  ‘As I said before, Sevran, your pit bull did us a good turn. If it wasn’t for him, nobody would know Marie had been murdered.’

  ‘That’s true, one should try and see things in that light. He did a good turn. But look, you haven’t had any lunch.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Marc interposed quickly, ‘we’ll manage.’

  ‘I’m going back to Lina then. She’s probably already regretting it, and thinking of getting a puppy for me, I know what she’s like.’

  Marc said goodbye, telling himself now wasn’t the time to ask him questions about the fabulous and pointless machine, and took hold of the bike. He pushed it along slowly, while Louis walked beside him.

  ‘Did you see her face when she shot the dog?’ Marc asked.

  ‘Yeah, a sight to see.’

  ‘Weird how someone so good-looking can become horrible. And then she went back to normal.’

  ‘What do you think of her? Would you want to go to bed with her if she asked?’

  ‘You’re a funny guy. I’d never have asked myself that.’

  ‘Never asked yourself that? What the hell do you do with your life? You should always ask yourself that, Marc.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t know that. So you asked yourself? And was it yes or no?’

  ‘Ah, well, it depends. With her, it would depend on the circumstances.’

  ‘So what’s the point of asking the question, if you can’t give a better answer than that?’

  Louis smiled. They walked on in silence for a while.

  ‘I could do with a beer,’ said Louis suddenly.

  XX

  LOUIS AND MARC had lunch at the counter of the market cafe. The room smelt of damp clothes, cigarette smoke and wine. Marc loved the smell, it made him want to sit straight down with his work in a corner, but he had left the lord of Puisaye’s accounts on the bedside table in the hotel.

  It was on the late side for lunch, and the back room would only be opened up if the mayor decided to come, but he had not yet left his office. Everyone now knew that the police were up there talking to him, and that Marie Lacasta had been murdered. The mayor’s secretary had spread the word. And everyone also knew that it was the big tall guy over there, the one with the limp, who had brought the case from Paris, though no one knew exactly how. People were hanging about in the cafe, waiting for the mayor, going up to the counter at intervals to take a look at the two men from Paris. And while they waited, they drank and played billiards. For the occasion, the proprietress of the cafe, the tiny grey-haired woman dressed in black, had taken the covers – placed there in winter – off the second table, which was set up for pool, American-style. Be careful, the baize is new, she’d said.

  ‘Look, the third table along by the window, see?’ said Louis. ‘No, don’t turn round, look in the mirror over the bar. The fat little man with bushy eyebrows, see him? Well, that’s Pauline’s husband. What do you think of him?’

  ‘Is this the same question as just now? To go to bed with?’

  ‘No, you imbecile. But what do you think of him?’

  ‘To be avoided if necessary.’

  ‘That’s what’s so clever. Darnas is a man of superior intelligence, but you wouldn’t know that from the way he looks.’

&
nbsp; ‘And the woman with him? Is that the one you wanted to go and say hello to?’

  ‘His wife, yes.’

  ‘I see. Right, I agree, I’d certainly like to sleep with her.’

  ‘Nobody asked your opinion.’

  ‘You said one should always ask oneself that question. I’m following instructions.’

  ‘I’ll tell you when to follow them. And anyway, shit, Vandoosler, don’t start getting up my nose, we’ve plenty to get on with.’

  ‘Who else do you know here?’ asked Marc, examining the smoke-filled room from the reflection in the bar mirror.

  ‘No one. According to the electoral register, there are 315 voters in Port-Nicolas. That’s not many, but as suspects in a murder case, it’s a lot.’

  ‘The victim died on Thursday after four o’clock and before six. That’s a very small window, and the cops shouldn’t find it too hard to establish alibis.’

  ‘It may be a small window, but this is a big open space. Nobody goes wandering around Vauban Cove in November in the rain for fun. Between there and the centre of the village there are just quiet roads and empty houses. A wet, deserted landscape. That Thursday, the weather was dreadful. And on top of that, between five and six, half the local people are coming back from Quimper if they’re in work, and driving home from work has never been much use as an alibi. Some of the others will have been out fishing, and there’s nothing so vague as a fisherman or as mobile as a boat. If they manage to rule out forty people, they’ll be lucky. Only 275 left. Take out the old people and it’s maybe 230.’

  ‘So better to start with Marie then.’

  ‘The Sevrans weren’t the only people in Marie’s life. There’s her husband Diego, and I haven’t managed to find out if he died, or just went away. There was her little allotment in Darnas’s grounds, which brings in the Darnas couple and the staff at his seawater centre, fourteen in the off season. There’s her job searching René Blanchet’s dustbins, her regular visits to the mayor, and everything we don’t know yet. Marie had links with a lot of people – that’s the trouble if someone is nosy by nature. The owner here, the little woman they call Antoinette, says that Marie would come in here for a sit-down twice a day – except when she didn’t.’

  ‘And what did she drink? Did you ask that? You should always ask that.’

  ‘Hot toddies in winter, cider in summer and a little white wine any time of year. Marie used to go for walks either by Vauban Cove, where nobody else dared compete with her over her precious winkles, or down by the harbour where there’s always something going on. People arriving, people leaving, discussions about whether the weather’s going to turn nasty, men repairing tackle on the quayside, others sorting out their lobster pots. Have you seen the harbour?’

  ‘Is there really much fishing here?’

  ‘If you’d kept your eyes open, you’d have seen two big trawlers anchored in the distance. They go as far afield as Ireland. Most of the men in here are connected to the harbour, the ones who aren’t here work in offices in town. See that guy coming in? No, for God’s sake, stop turning round every time I want to show you someone!’

  ‘That’s how I am, a creature of instinct, I have reactions.’

  ‘Well, learn how to react without batting an eyelid. Right, he’s the handyman who cleans the church, that’s all he does. I saw him the other day up by the calvaire, a sort of sidekick to the parish priest. What do you think of him?’

  Marc bent down a little to look in the bar mirror.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to sleep with him either.’

  ‘Shut up, Darnas is coming over.’

  Darnas sat down alongside Louis and shook hands with Marc.

  ‘Vandoosler,’ Marc said.

  ‘Well, well, now,’ said Darnas in his high-pitched voice, ‘what are the police up to?’

  Marc wouldn’t have thought that such a high-pitched sound could have come from that bull neck.

  ‘Still closeted with the mayor,’ said Louis. ‘It’s going to be tough establishing alibis. Have you got one yourself?’

  ‘I thought about what I did on Thursday afternoon. The beginning’s fine, I was two hours at the garage, taking delivery of a BMW.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘My pleasure. I test-drove it for a bit, but the weather was terrible. So I parked it and worked in my office, alone. Pauline came to fetch me at dinner time.’

  ‘No good at all,’ said Louis.

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘And Pauline?’

  ‘Just as bad. She worked at the newspaper in the morning, got back from Quimper about three, went for a run.’

  ‘In the pouring rain?’

  ‘Pauline runs all the time.’

  ‘So, it’s going to be tough,’ Louis said again. ‘All these people sitting behind us, who are they?’

  Darnas glanced quickly round the room and turned back to Louis.

  ‘In the corner, on the left, Antoine, Guillaume and their father Loïc, they’re all fishermen, and Bernard, he’s the man from the garage, very reliable. Next to them, the very young man, Gaël, is an inveterate dreamer, and opposite him a man about forty, looks a bit fragile, that’s Jean, he looks after the church, he cleans it out, he oils the locks, he fixes the stonework, he’s a bit, you know, and totally devoted to the priest. Then Pauline Darnas, my wife, whom you have the honour of knowing, I won’t introduce you, let’s keep things separate. Table behind her, Lefloch, the toughest fisherman round here, goes out in all weathers, owns the trawler Belle de Nuit, and opposite him his wife and the future lover of his wife, Lefloch doesn’t know that yet. With them, the skipper of the other trawler, the Atalante. Right-hand corner, that’s the manageress of the supermarket, with her daughter Nathalie, currently being courted by Guillaume from the left corner, and Pierre-Yves who is also keen on Nathalie, but she’s not interested. Standing in the corner . . . Now look out, Kehlweiler, there he is, the Port-Nicolas fundamentalist, the candidate for the town hall.’

  ‘René Blanchet,’ Louis whispered to Marc, ‘the man with the dustbin, and don’t turn round.’

  Louis was staring at the mirror, over his glass, and Marc did the same, as they watched a burly grey-haired man come in and make a lot of commotion taking off his waterproofs and stamping his boots. Outside, the weather wasn’t improving, the west wind was bringing in squall after squall. Louis followed Blanchet’s movements as he shook hands with men, kissed women, nodded to Pauline, and came to lean against the counter. Louis moved Marc aside to see better. The Sevrans also came into the cafe at that moment, and sat down. Marc decided to go and sit with them, since Louis kept shoving him, which was annoying. Now there was an open space between Louis and René Blanchet. Louis noted the red face, the brown eyes, the bulbous nose, the cracked lips, just then clamped round an unlit cigar, the small ears with finely tapering lobes, the nape of the neck in a straight line with the head, and a rather deeply lined face. Antoinette served Blanchet a drink. Loïc, the older fisherman, had come to join him.

  ‘Have you heard?’ Loïc was saying. ‘Seems someone did Marie in, wasn’t no accident.’

  ‘So I gather,’ said Blanchet. ‘Poor old dear.’

  ‘The cops are here – see them? It’s Guerrec looking into it.’

  ‘Guerrec, he’ll have everyone under lock and key before you can turn round.’

  ‘I’ll be the only one out fishing then. Mayor’s been with them three hours up there at the offices.’

  ‘At least when he’s doing his job, he’s not asleep.’

  ‘Do you believe it, though? That someone pushed her? Looks like it’s true.’

  ‘I believe what I see, Loïc, and I think what I think.’

  Darnas raised his eyebrows to Kehlweiler, with a sigh. But Kehlweiler was on edge. He was gripping his glass and glancing frequently to his right. From the table where he was sitting with the Sevrans, alongside Lina, Marc watched him. Louis stood motionless, his body quite rigid except for those brief movements of
the head.

  ‘Looks like it, sure enough,’ Loïc said again.

  ‘Depends who tells you,’ said Blanchet. ‘It seems that it was you, monsieur?’

  Blanchet had turned to look at Louis.

  ‘Yes, I came down specially,’ said Louis in a polite tone.

  ‘To tell us what exactly?’

  ‘What you were just told. That Marie Lacasta was murdered.’

  ‘And on what basis are you making this accusation?’

  ‘Just my simple citizen’s duty. A certain dog was good enough to deposit the truth at my feet. I used it and I’ve shared it.’

  ‘The people round here are law-abiding folk,’ Blanchet went on in a loud voice. ‘You’re bringing unwanted trouble to Port-Nicolas. Accusing us of killing that old woman, and the mayor hasn’t denied it. But I will. The people of Port-Nicolas are not murderers. But in spite of that and thanks to you, they’ll all come under completely unjustifiable suspicion.’

  Various voices rose, and a murmur of approval followed Blanchet’s words. Darnas pulled a face. Those who were not yet on Blanchet’s side might change their minds. Blanchet had seized the opportunity and was exploiting it quickly.

  ‘Want my opinion?’ Blanchet went on. ‘This business about Marie is some kind of a trick, the mayor’s in on it, and I’ll get to the bottom of it. You’ll have me to deal with, to defend these honest people, monsieur . . . Sorry I didn’t catch your name, it sounded hard to pronounce.’

  ‘Look out,’ Sevran said quietly to Marc. ‘Blanchet’s looking for trouble. Kehlweiler may have to watch himself, he’s not from round here, he won’t have many people on his side. They are all good law-abiding people, except when they’re not.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Marc whispered. ‘Louis is armed.’

  ‘Armed?’

  ‘With his tongue.’

  ‘Blanchet can talk too,’ murmured Sevran, shaking his head. ‘He’s the local loudmouth. Terrible man, always coming out with this stuff, and he’s got plenty of dramatic tricks up his sleeve. He’s cleverer than he looks.’