Dominic had seen her only once in the village since the memorial service. Louis mentioned that she'd only started to venture out a month before Christmas, and then only rarely. If she could avoid going out, she would - but she felt guilty continuing to rely so heavily on the Fiévets. Dominic thought she looked better than at the memorial service, the dark circles beneath her eyes had mostly gone and a faint glimmer of life was back in her eyes. She didn't notice him, and he was careful not to look too long; her beauty he found somehow intimidating, and he didn't want to make her feel awkward.
Village life in Bauriac and Taragnon had settled back, though news from each instruction filtered back via the various witnesses called. Dominic started to worry about details of Machanaud's car statement arising again at the instruction in January, but it passed without incident.
The instruction process was due to finish in late April, but at the last moment Molet introduced a new element which kept it going through May - calling character witnesses for Machanaud in the same style that Perrimond had paraded an assortment against. The resultant coup by Molet, probably the main turning point of the case, had Dominic smiling as much as Poullain had been cursing when he brought news of it back to the gendarmerie. Molet was giving Perrimond a run for his money.
The instruction process ended in early June and twenty-two days later both Perrimond and Molet received notification from the Palais de Justice that the case would be presented to full trial at the Cour d'Assises in Aix, and the date set: 18th October. By then, fourteen months would have passed since the attack on Christian Rosselot.
'What makes you think I can afford that?'
'Okay, I'll be generous. One half now and the other in two months time, just two weeks before the trial starts.' They'd done the same as before: Chapeau put a call through to the general Limoges office and Duclos went out and called him back minutes later.
It was still 5,000 Francs, thought Duclos. Outrageous! Almost as much as he'd paid Chapeau in the first place. 'I don't think I can manage more than four. Even splitting it in two parts.' And even that would mean taking a small overdraft from his bank.
Chapeau sniggered. 'You know, I should ask you for six thousand for being so cheeky. I'll accept it this time - but next time you try and bargain, I'll put the figure up.'
'What do you mean - next time. If I pay you this now, I don't want to hear from you again.'
Chapeau sighed, his shoulders sagging. 'And just when we were getting on so well. You think I phone you just for the money - has it never occurred to you that I might like to hear the sound of your voice...'
'Oh, fuck off!'
'It's true. Practically no family left except my brother, and he's away at sea most of the time. Apart from killing people every now and then and phoning you, there's few pleasures left in my life. You think I'm going to pass up on that?' Chapeau smiled slyly and let the silence ride a second, let it sink home that he would be calling regularly. Duclos didn't respond. 'Don't worry, I'm sensible enough to realize that I'll have cleared you out for now. I know your salary, everything about you - so I also know when best to phone. You won't hear from me for a while.'
'How long's that?' Duclos asked cynically. 'Six months, a year - two years?'
'I don't know. It depends how quickly I think you can save - or how well you do. But just think, when you get that pay rise or promotion - I could be the first one calling to congratulate you!'
Duclos didn't rise to the bait this time, sensed the pure joy Chapeau was deriving from his anger. 'Let's just settle the business at hand. When and where?'
Chapeau said that he'd make a small concession by driving in Duclos' direction to Montpelier, but no further. He suggested a roadside bar on the A7 heading north out of town, 'Eau de Hérault'.
'I don't want to do this in a crowded bar,' Duclos protested.
'It's okay - the few times I've been there it's not been that crowded. But if you feel uncomfortable, they have a large car park in front. We can stay there. When you see my car, come over and get in.'
They arranged to meet the following Saturday at 6.15 pm.
The three judges filed in: the presiding judge in a red robe and the two assessing judges in black robes who took up seats each side of him, the 'pots de fleurs'. The nine jurors were then chosen by picking names out of a pot of thirty-five by the presiding judge, Hervé Griervaut and his greffier. The nine selected took their seats flanking the judges.
Molet had advised Machanaud of his right to challenge up to five jurors, but cautioned that often it aggravated and unsettled the rest of the jury. The defence made no challenges, the prosecution made only one: Perrimond singled out an old man in a crumpled suit and beret. Looked like a farm worker out for the day, thought Molet. Perrimond probably feared he might identify too readily with Machanaud. A replacement juror was picked out of the pot.
Machanaud was first on the stand. He was asked by Judge Griervaut to first of all provide an account of his activities on the day in question, then was questioned by Griervaut on specific points. This was mainly for clarification rather than angled at areas which might cast suspicion. That would come later with Perrimond, thought Molet. For now Griervaut was merely setting the scene for himself and the jury. The only contentious point he raised was Machanaud lying in earlier statements, confirming if Machanaud considered his final statement and later testimony at instruction to be correct. Hesitant 'Yes.'
Perrimond was next. He made much of the earlier lies and changes in police statements, sewing a strong opening image in the jury's mind of Machanaud desperately lying to cover up his dark deeds that day. He then focused on Machanaud's claim of not seeing the boy or seeing or hearing an attack, confronting him with the earlier police instruction entry that 'the boy was not seen at any time in the town centre, so must have reached the river by crossing the fields behind.'
Molet cringed as Perrimond took Machanaud through each stage of the gendarme's position at the reconstuction. Molet tapped his fingers impatiently to each reluctant 'yes' to twenty metres back, forty... sixty.
'So you saw absolutely nothing, Mr Machanaud,' Perrimond concluded. 'A boy was attacked and killed not yards away, and you had a clear view of the only point where he could have crossed the river. And yet you saw nothing?'
Perrimond kept Machanaud on the stand for another thirty minutes, ripping apart his earlier statements, magnifying the inconsistencies, and planting clearly in the jury's mind that not only was Machanaud at the scene of the crime, but it was stretching credulity that anyone else could have possibly been there. Machanaud would have seen them. Perrimond closed with the equipment that Machanaud used when fishing. 'Apart from your rod and bait - you had a bucket with water for the fish, and what else?'
'Some waders if I have to walk into the shallows.'
'Anything else? Any other sort of plastic protective clothing?'
'Oh yes, a plastic front apron to go over my shirt or overalls.'
'And what is that for?'
'If I have to gut any fish, it stops the blood getting on my clothing.'
Perrimond passed the floor. 'Thank you.'
A more complete legal bombardment Molet had hardly witnessed. Machanaud was clearly rattled, his few weak protests and arguments laying in tatters. But Molet wondered why Perrimond had finished with details of Machanaud's fishing equipment; surely a stronger image to close on would have been Machanaud standing in clear sight of where it was suggested the attack took place.
'Monsieur Fornier, when you realized that the car description given to Briant was different to the one mentioned to you, were you surprised?'
'I don't know. I didn't really think about it.'
Molet looked down thoughtfully. The first hour after recess had been taken up with police testimony, dominated by Perrimond asking Poullain carefully weighted questions to support his earlier arguments.
Molet had gone over the same points with Poullain for almost twenty minutes without finding a significant flaw to build
on - then came to Machanaud's car statements and the later changes. After a gruelling quick fire session, Poullain finally conceded that it was incorrect of him not to have passed on the changed statement to instruction, then added hastily '... But as the investigating officer it is my duty to enter the information that I trust the most and feel is accurate.' All early advantages were lost.
Molet had dismissed him shortly after and called Dominic Fornier. After the first few minutes with Fornier, he had the feeling Fornier was more nervous about the car incident, might be easier to crack than Poullain - if he knew anything.
'When Machanaud mentioned changing his car statement to you in the bar that evening- you apparently showed surprise. Is that correct?'
'Yes.'
'So that was the first time that you had heard about the change in car description?'
'Yes, it was.'
'Quite a few surprises and changes that evening, it seems,' Molet commented cynically. Perrimond looked as if he was about to object, then changed his mind. 'As the assistant investigating officer, would it not be normal for you to be advised of such a change in statement the moment it was made?'
Dominic's hands sweated profusely on the lectern. His chest felt tight, constricted. 'No, not necessarily.'
'So tell me - what would the circumstances be under which you might not be informed?'
'As perhaps in this case, where my commanding officer has already determined the information was false.'
'And when did he share this information with you?'
'A day or so later perhaps.'
'Was that the reason for him not entering the change in the file?'
Dominic was sure his face looked flushed as the blood rushed to his head. He glanced across briefly at Machanaud, but his mother's image was stronger... reaching out to him. Poullain and him being questioned, charged with perjury for their earlier false statements. What price for Machanaud's life? He just couldn't lie! But in the end, as the images receded and he saw Molet staring concernedly and about to prompt, he did the next best thing and only told half the truth. 'Yes, it was - from what he told me later.'
Molet looked down at his file and flicked back a page.
If he just asked one more question, thought Dominic: 'Was that the only reason?' He was sure in that moment he would have told him everything, told him about Duclos and the call from Marcel Vallon relayed through Perrimond, the pressure from Poullain to cover up - the whole sorry mess that would probably ruin his career along with Poullain's, yet might at least save Machanaud's neck. And he realized then that he was almost willing it, hoping that Molet would look up and ask the question.
But Molet nodded to the bench and resumed his seat while Griervaut dismissed Fornier. Molet was still thoughtful. There had been a glimmer of recognition in Fornier's eye, almost a look of apology as he'd glanced towards Machanaud. But then just as quickly it was gone. What was it that Fornier knew? The thought preyed on his mind for a while afterwards, through the remainder of the police testimony and the start of forensic evidence.
When Perrimond came onto the gap between the two attacks estimated at forty minutes and Dubrulle pointed out that this had been determined mostly by the hospital medical examiner, not forensics - Perrimond ended the session abruptly.
Molet noted that Perrimond's questioning of Dubrulle, head of the Marseille forensics team, was scant, but put this down to the fact that Griervaut had already covered most of the key points.
Molet took the floor. 'Monsieur Dubrulle. You had the benefit of blood samples for matching supplied by my client, I believe. Is that correct?'
'Yes. We were supplied with samples after he had been detained.'
'And did Monsieur Machanaud's blood match any of that found at the crime scene?'
'No. We found only the victim's blood present. Type B positive. That of Christian Rosselot.'
Molet flinched slightly at the mention of the boy's name and blood together: too vivid an image for the jury. 'Items of clothing were also taken from Monsieur Machanaud's house and tested for any fibre matches and blood deposits from the boy. Is that correct?'
'Yes.'
'Were any fibre deposits found that matched that of my client's, or any blood deposits on his clothing that matched the boy's blood group?'
'No, we found no such matches. But in this case, there were no significant-'
'Is it in fact not the case,' Molet cut in sharply, 'that you found absolutely nothing at the crime scene or after - no deposits left by my client or stains on his clothing - that could have possibly linked him in any way with the crime.'
'No, we found nothing.'
Dubrulle was more subdued. But as Molet concluded expecting Griervaut to dismiss him, Perrimond requested a re-examination. Only the second time he had done so.
'Monsieur Dubrulle. You were about to comment that there were no 'significant' somethings or other, when my colleague interrupted. I wonder if you'd be so kind to now complete your comment.'
'Well, it was just that we found no significant fibres of any type at the scene of the crime.'
'Any blood or semen deposits or indeed anything at all linking to any individual?'
'No, we found nothing.'
'So the fact that nothing was found linked to Monsieur Machanaud was not particularly significant?'
'No, not particularly.'
'But in one area of blood stains, I understand you did find something significant. An area of stains that was weaker and pinker than other areas. How do you think this occurred?'
Molet tensed, sat forward keenly. He'd known the information would come up at some point. He should have caught on when Perrimond didn't cover it earlier with Dubrulle. Perrimond's earlier tactic of grandstanding the fishing apron suddenly made sense, and now again he'd carefully engineered everything to make it a closing point.
'It looked as if someone had washed down with water, perhaps from the murder implement or their body. Washed away the boy's blood. It was the same group as the boy's, but had been mixed with water.'
'Now, if somebody in normal apparel,' Perrimond ran one hand down inside his suit lapel, 'say standard cotton shirt and trousers, had tried to swill off bloodstains in this fashion - would the blood have washed off successfully or left stains?'
'Very little of it would have washed off. Most of it would have soaked into the clothing.'
'But if this person was wearing some sort of protective waterproof clothing - say a plastic apron or bib of some type. Would it have washed off in this fashion then?'
'Yes, probably.'
'And such a bib would also have protected their clothing from stains, I presume?'
'Yes, obviously.'
'Thank you.' Perrimond sat down and Griervaut dismissed Dubrulle from the stand.
Molet's spirit's sank. Scanning the jury, the impact of the point had gone home strongly.
Testimony from attending medics and doctors was next. Looking at his watch, Molet realized that part of it was probably going to spill over to the next morning. Little arose as the day's events drew to a close to raise his spirits again. Now that Perrimond had stolen his thunder over forensics, there were precious few ace cards left to play. Any chance of clearing Machanaud had probably now gone. All that remained was the testimony of an ageing resistance fighter, an army doctor, and his own closing arguments to be able to save his client's life.
'And how long were you practising at the Military Hospital in Aubagne, Doctor Lanquetin?'
'Over twenty years. Though I'm retired now - just four years ago.'
'During that time, what did you specialize in?'
'In treatment of cranial injuries. I was a practising surgeon who dealt almost exclusively with head injuries incurred by soldiers or legionnaires in active service.'
'I see.' Molet looked down thoughtfully. It was an idea he'd struck on late in the instruction process, seeing the procession of character witnesses from Perrimond testifying to Machanaud's strange and oddball character. One of t
hem had commented, 'I believe he even has a metal plate in his head, from a sabotage operation that went wrong while in the resistance.' Machanaud had originally fought the idea, felt that playing on his old injuries was merely supporting the opposition's case that he was mad and had done something strange that afternoon. Molet admitted then that he thought his chances of clearing Machanaud were remote, and this was probably their only hope of getting a lesser manslaughter charge introduced. Reluctantly, Machanaud had given him the name of the hospital where he was treated.
His old doctor had since died, but Molet managed to find a retired army doctor, Lanquetin, who was an expert in head injuries. He'd introduced him along with an old resistance colleague at a later instruction and argued strongly that a lesser charge of manslaughter should be introduced. 'Half of the prosecution case rests on the fact that Machanaud is slightly odd. Yet he has never done anything like this before, and in months of talking with my client, if indeed he has done this, he clearly has no memory of it. This is an old resistance fighter, one with a metal plate holding his head together. And we are going to argue on one hand that he is odd and slightly mad, yet on the other claim that he knew exactly what he was doing and condemn him to be hanged. Ridiculous! I move for a lesser charge of manslaughter to be introduced on the grounds of diminished responsibility, and will produce the medical evidence to strongly support it.' Predictably, Perrimond opposed the suggestion. Naugier accepted it reluctantly, but only as an alternative charge. The manslaughter charge would ride alongside that of premeditated murder. It would be up to the jury to decide of which they thought Machanaud was guilty.
'So your knowledge in the area of cranial injuries is quite extensive?'
'Yes.'
'And during this period have you had experience with metal plates and their effects on patients?'
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