A Vintage End

by D'arcy Kavanagh

  A moment later he held several sheets of paper with the names of all the race entrants for the four contests; the participants probably totalled 3,000 or even more. He thanked her one final time and left. He would examine them later at his B and B.

  Burke thought about writing a blog about the number of individuals who were competing in all four races – or even in three – but he had wanted the lists for another reason. He believed the identities of Yablonski’s tormenters were somewhere on those sheets of paper. And while most people probably considered the actions against Yablonski in the first two races to be foolish, maybe mean-spirited but not dangerous, Burke thought there was much more to them and that the persons behind them needed to be taken seriously.

  Next, he drove to the police station, hoping he could catch Inspector Sauvageot. He had a bizarre request to make and the young flic seemed his best bet to arrange it.

  He was fortunate because he saw Sauvageot right by the front desk talking on his cellphone. Burke went up to the policeman and waited.

  The call over, Sauvageot looked at Burke and shook his head with a sense of resignation.

  “Inspector Fortin told me you could be persistent, Monsieur Burke,” he said. “What is it you want this time?”

  Burke asked if they could move to a quieter spot. Sauvageot shrugged and led Burke to a corner.

  “I have no intention of writing a story about it or taking any photos, but I would like to see the body of the cyclist who died in the storm,” Burke said.

  Sauvageot’s eyes bulged. Whatever the flic had expected, Burke’s request to look at a corpse wasn’t it.

  “Are you serious?” the policeman said.

  “I just need 30 seconds,” Burke said.

  Sauvageot studied Burke. “You’re not kinky or anything, are you?”

  “Not at all and I’m sure Inspector Fortin would have told you if I was,” Burke said. “I just want to look at something. In fact, I don’t even need to look at the victim’s whole body. I just want to see his legs.”

  “Why do you want to look at his legs? You know how bizarre this sounds, right?”

  “I know how strange it is, but if you let me look at his legs, I might be able to tell you something useful,” said Burke although he wasn’t sure himself that seeing the man’s corpse would prove anything.

  “Tell me now what you suspect,” Sauvageot said.

  Burke held his ground. “OK, just give me 15 seconds,” he said.

  Sauvageot ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head. Burke figured if Sauvageot had a partner at home, there would be a good story at the dinner table that night.

  “If it wasn’t for what Fortin told me, I’d have you thrown out of here,” Sauvageot said. “But Fortin vouched for you in a big way so I will tell you that I’m going to the pathologist’s in a couple of hours because the autopsy will be done by then. If you want to look at the legs for 30 seconds but no more, I will see if the pathologist agrees. But no story comes out of this, got it?”

  Burke agreed and thanked him. He said he would return within two hours.

  “You are a strange man,” Sauvageot said.

  Burke gave a slight nod and then walked out of the building, hoping he was on his way to finding some information that would get Madame Benoit’s approval.

  Outside the police station, Burke found a bench and phoned Lemaire’s tech expert, Antoine Pastore.

  “Ah, Paul, I expect you have one of your strange requests,” Antoine began.

  “Why do you say that?” Burke said. “Maybe I just want to see how my friend is doing.”

  “I’ve come to know you and asking about my welfare isn’t why you called,” Antoine said. “So, what do you want? Make it quick because I’m busy.”

  “You remember how some hacker got into the websites in the first two vintage bike races?” Burke said.

  “I do.”

  “Well, if you were to speak as someone who might understand such matters, what kind of skill set would it take to do those hacks?” asked Burke, aware that Antoine was knowledgeable enough to do his own hacks without getting caught.

  “Why do you want to know?” Antoine asked.

  “Just looking for some kind of pattern,” Burke said.

  “They’d need a variety of skills, ranging from how to access service providers in secret, how to get around passwords, how to work with the different software used to create the websites and probably how to change code,” Antoine asked. “Finally, they would need to be able to do all of that without leaving a single digital footprint – and that might be the most challenging thing to know.”

  “So, not your average computer nerd, right?”

  “I’d say you’re looking at someone who’s very skilled,” Antoine said.

  “That’s helpful.”

  “But, Paul, you need to understand there are a lot of people out there who can do such things,” Antoine said. “Remember that American movie The Interview?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you’ll recall how the makers of the film, Sony, got hacked big time and it was originally thought to be the work of the North Korean government. Later, however, it seemed it was the work of a group of very sophisticated group of hackers. And then after the terrorist attack in Paris when those cartoonists at Charlie Hebdo got killed and those shoppers at the Jewish grocery store were murdered, there were countless hacks by so-called Islamic techno-terrorists. Every day, it seems there are more and more people who have such knowledge. The security people just can’t keep up to the threats.”

  “I understand,” Burke said.

  “So, why do you care?” Antoine asked.

  “There’s just something about these vintage races and the incidents involved with them that’s got me curious,” Burke said. “Most media seem to think all that has happened has been the work of some stupid pranksters. I think we’re dealing with some people who are sophisticated in a variety of ways and driven to produce results.”

  “Do you think the police have the same thought?”

  “I think they’re starting to be more concerned.”

  “You know, Paul, there’s something else that could be at play here,” Antoine said.

  Burke asked what his friend meant.

  “Because these stunts are suggesting some ugly links between Yablonski and the Second World War, it can’t be good for any of his businesses.”

  “The crowds at the end of the first two races seemed sympathetic to him, though,” Burke said.

  “Maybe, but I wonder if the shares in any of his businesses have gone down,” Antoine said. “I mean, the fans may applaud him at the end of a race, but what are regular shareholders thinking? And ordinary consumers? Do they want to deal with someone tied to the Nazis?”

  “Are you suggesting that might be the point of all these stunts, to drive down the value of his companies?”

  “I’m only saying it’s a possibility,” Antoine said.

  “I understand.”

  “Of course, a decrease in the value of his various operations might only be an unintended byproduct. The real goal might still be to embarrass or humiliate Yablonski by exposing some part of his past or his family’s past.”

  Burke had more to think about.

  “And from what I understand,” Antoine continued, “Yablonski is no one’s fool. He might well be thinking about the damage being done to his business empire.”

  “I wonder if that makes him dangerous to whoever is behind the stunts,” Burke said.

  “That’s something I don’t know,” Antoine replied. “But it’s definitely something that should be considered by whoever is pulling these stunts.”

  “And it suggests we’re not done with these attacks on Yablonski,” Burke said.

  “That seems logical,” Antoine said.

  “And if one of those deaths in Arles is somehow connected to this whole Yablonski matter, then the stakes have just been raised – by a huge amount.”

  “Are you t
alking about those people who died during the storm there, Paul?”

  “I think those three people didn’t have a bad accident during the storm,” Burke said. “I think they were murdered.”

  There was silence and then Antoine spoke in a softer voice: “If it’s a matter of murder, then the police should be looking at what happened – not you.”

  “They are, in a way,” Burke said.

  “So that tells me you’ve been talking to the flics in Arles,” Antoine said.

  “You could say that,” Burke said.

  “After what happened last year to you, you better be very careful, Paul,” Antoine said.

  “I will, Antoine,” Burke said. “I’m just doing my blogs and riding in some races. Nothing more.”

  “OK, but I’m struggling to believe you.”

  “I’ll stay out of trouble.”

  Burke ended the call. And hoped he could fulfil his promise.

  Chapter 27

  Burke waited patiently in the hallway outside the pathology lab. Inside, Sauvageot was talking to the pathologist, making a pitch on Burke’s behalf. A few minutes later, the young policeman came out and told Burke he could see the corpse but only for a few seconds.

  “And I would urge you to not tell the world I was able to get you into here,” Sauvageot said.

  Burke said he would keep the information quiet and thanked him. Then he followed Sauvageot into the room which was cool, immaculately clean and smelled slightly of antiseptic. Sauvageot introduced Burke to the pathologist, Didier Guérin, who was barely 30, tall and whippet lean. The doctor nodded and smiled, but didn’t offer to shake hands which Burke was fine with. A few steps away, hovering over a tray of instruments, stood a young man in a baby-blue medical jacket; Burke thought he must be some kind of technician or assistant.

  Burke noticed a large sign on one wall. The type was in Latin: Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae.

  “That means ‘This is the place where death rejoices to help those who live,’” said Guérin. “If you want a further translation, it means we can learn something from the dead.”

  Burke nodded. He hoped it was true.

  Guérin, accompanied by the technician, led Burke and Sauvageot to another room which was smaller and much colder, and contained the bodies of the pathologist’s subjects. There were three columns of large steel containers and the technician pulled on the top right one. It slide out easily and showed the form of a body underneath a sheet. It was a scene that Burke had watched in countless movies and TV shows, but he was still not prepared for the lack of emotion in the room. He felt instantly depressed. He glanced at the pathologist who showed no emotion at all; for him, it was just another day in the office. Sauvageot seemed almost as clinical.

  The pathologist checked Sauvageot who nodded and then he pulled the sheet up from the feet.

  “There are the legs you wanted to see, Monsieur,” said Guérin, still looking puzzled. “I haven’t gotten to the actual autopsy as planned. That will happen tomorrow morning.”

  Burke took a breath and moved close to the victim. He studied the victim’s legs and then turned to Guérin.

  “Is it all right if I touch his calf muscles?” Burke asked. “I’m not trying to be kinky. I just want to check something.”

  “If you want,” Guérin said. “However, he has already lost quite a bit of his muscularity.”

  Burke nodded.

  “But he was in good condition with very powerful legs,” Guérin added.

  Burke moved his gaze to the victim’s lower thighs.

  “Strong quadriceps, I think,” Burke said, looking toward Guérin for confirmation.

  “Extremely,” the pathologist said. “I would see he exercised a great deal using his legs.”

  Burke saw the victim was generally lean. The man hadn’t been a weightlifter. Maybe a runner. But the strong development of the lower quad muscles suggested another activity, one Burke knew plenty about.

  “I’d say he was a cyclist and a serious one,” Burke told the pathologist and policeman. “His leg muscles are distinctly those of a person who rides a great deal. And his legs have recently been shaved, too. That suggests he might have done some racing recently.”

  “That makes sense,” Guérin said, bending slightly to study the victim’s thighs. “I like to run, but I haven’t got any muscles like that.”

  “Which suggests you might be correct in your theory about how he died,” said Sauvageot, looking at Burke. Then the flic turned to the pathologist. “Monsieur Burke here has some interesting ideas about the death of this man.”

  “Well, I’m not sure what you think happened, Monsieur Burke, but I can tell you before I have done the autopsy that this man sustained a serious epidural hematoma before drowning,” the pathologist said. “Of that, there can be no doubt.”

  Seeing Burke’s puzzled look, the pathologist explained the injury was between the skull and the dura which is the brain’s tissue-type covering..

  “It’s often linked to a skull fracture,” the pathologist added.

  Burke knew his 30 seconds were up, but neither Guérin nor Sauvageot seemed in a rush to get him outside.

  “Do you know what he hit his head on?” Burke asked.

  “At the scene where he was found, there was a large rock. His blood was on it. It would appear he hit his head there,” Guérin said. “There is also a second, smaller epidural hematoma.”

  “Did he hit it strongly enough to be unconscious?” Burke asked.

  “Most definitely,” Guérin said. “The larger blow was serious enough to cause a skull fracture. It would be safe to say he might have sustained brain damage.”

  “But he still somehow managed to get to the water where he drowned,” Burke said.

  “He could have rolled down into the canal and not been able to get out due to his head injuries,” Sauvageot said.

  Burke’s mind was spinning with scenarios.

  He thanked the pathologist and started to go toward the exit. Then he stopped, remembering he wanted one more piece of information. He returned to the tray with the corpse on it just as the technician was about to shove it back into the container unit.

  “Sorry, one last thing,” Burke said.

  Sauvageot and Guérin exchanged puzzled looks.

  Without waiting, Burke approached the covered corpse and grabbed the edge of the sheet. He didn’t lift it, just looked at the men beside him and said,” Can I have a quick look at his hands? I won’t touch him.”

  “His hands?” Guérin said.

  “Just a quick look,” Burke said.

  Guérin nodded and the technician took control of the sheet, lifting one side to expose the victim’s right hand and then the other for the left hand.

  “Thank you,” Burke said.

  “Why the hands, Monsieur Burke?” Sauvageot said.

  “His fingernails are very neat, not bitten or dirty,” Burke said. “With those hands and the careful shaving of his legs plus having seen a photo of him that showed how neatly his hair is cut, I think this person was very meticulous, very methodical.”

  “But why do you care, Monsieur?” Guérin asked.

  Burke looked at Sauvageot.

  “Monsieur Burke is helping us with some inquiries,” the policeman said. “But only at a very preliminary stage.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Burke said.

  “And a man’s methodical nature might prove instructive,” Guérin said, making it a statement and not a question.

  “I think it does,” Burke said.

  And then he left.

  Chapter 28

  Burke was almost out of the building when he heard footsteps behind him.

  “Monsieur Burke, stop please,” came Sauvageot’s voice.

  Burke turned and looked at the police officer. He wasn’t sure what to expect and Sauvageot’s face wasn’t showing any expression.

  Sauvageot motioned for Burke to follow him to an unoccupied bench tucked in a corne
r of the foyer. The policeman obviously wanted to avoid being overheard.

  “All right, after what you saw in there, tell me what you’re thinking,” Sauvageot said.

  Burke knew he had only notions floating around in his mind, but since the flic had provided him an opportunity to see the body, he thought he’d co-operate. Maybe it would also help to discuss the matter. And maybe he’d get something in return from Sauvageot that he could send to François Lemaire.

  “I think the victim was definitely murdered,” Burke said. “His body type tells us he was clearly an experienced cyclist. Both you and Dr. Guérin saw that. That means the victim didn’t really ride that bike unless he was trying to escape something, but there’s evidence that suggests he wasn’t rushing. If he was indeed trying to get away from something, he wouldn’t have spent the time to tuck in his pant leg to ride the bike. On the other hand, if he wasn’t rushing, he would have taken the time to do his shoelaces properly so they wouldn’t catch on the chainring teeth. He would also have adjusted the seat to a proper height. They might seem like small matters, but I believe they’re important.”

  “Maybe the seat post had a bolt and he didn’t have a tool to loosen it,” Sauvageot said.

  “It was an old bike but it still had a quick release,” Burke said. “He could have adjusted that seat in seconds.”

  Sauvageot nodded and Burke could see the policeman was weighing his comments.

  “When we looked at the victim, we saw he had recently shaved his legs,” Burke said. “That means he raced. And that means he was serious about cycling. So what was he doing out on a bike that was too small and in a rain storm without any bad-weather clothing?”

  Sauvageot said nothing.

  “And why was he out without identification?” Burke continued. “Maybe he was robbed, but there was no sign of violence except the blow to his skull. And the drowning, of course.”

  Sauvageot stayed quiet.

  “And I believe no one has identified the victim despite his photo in the papers and on television,” Burke said.

  “That’s correct,” Sauvageot said. “We’re still trying to establish his identity.”

  “So, he’s from outside this area, maybe outside of Provence entirely, since no one seems to recognize him,” Burke said. “So, we have a racing cyclist, not from this region, careful with his appearance and, I’d bet, with other things as well, who is found dead beside a bike that is clearly not his. When I put that together, I think he was here for the Arles vintage bike race, probably to ride but maybe part of something else.”