Deadly Degrees in the Pyrenees

Chapter 3

Chapter 3When I arrive back at the office, Paul and Laurent are amusing each other by telling sick jokes about Michelle's death. For some reason, ghastly events always inspire such humour. I enter my office and within a couple of minutes Paul brings me a coffee and news about Guy Legler and Jacques Moliner. Paul is a handsome devil with a cheeky smile, and he's smart, much smarter than Laurent. He places the coffee on my desk along with a slice of apricot cake.

“I thought you'd probably want something sweet after your baked lunch,” he says. I grimace and he relents. “You look a bit pale, Boss. I imagine it was pretty awful.”

“Not a pretty sight,” I agree. “But I guess Michelle wasn't especially beautiful at the best of times,” I add.

Paul smiles. “Let me update you,” he says. “Michelle has a studio apartment that she rents in town. Guy Legler has a key to this apartment and some of his belongings are kept there. His main residence is in Cadaqués, over the border in Spain. He calls himself a property agent, but he's not registered or legally connected to any agency as far as I can see. I suspect he's more like an introducer than an agent. I think he homed in on Michelle because she was successful and had money. Legler is considerably younger than her and much better looking. The clinic has released him, but he's been treated for shock and we can't question him for at least twenty-four hours. He's been told to stay in town and this is his address.”

Paul hands me a piece of paper and I am surprised to see that the studio is in a building jointly owned by Monsieur Claude, our esteemed spa owner, and my dear friend Patricia. I had no idea Michelle was renting an apartment there and I'm sure Patricia doesn't know either. The building was meant to provide high-priced, luxury accommodation for `curists' having treatments at the spa. It will be interesting to see how much Michelle is paying for its use, but I'd bet it's not nearly enough.

“Jacques is in Figueres with his car club,” Paul says. “He's been informed of his wife's death by the local police, but none of his group are able to drive tonight, because after they arrived there and booked into their hotel, they spent the rest of the day drinking. He's planning to return tomorrow afternoon.”

“There's no point sending a car for him, as there's nothing any of us can do today. I think we can take tomorrow off as normal and speak to Guy and Jacques on Monday when they are in a better state of mind.”

“I agree, Boss. We can't interview a drunk.”

“So, Michelle's lover came up from Spain as her husband travelled down,” I say. “How convenient. I'll send a one-liner by email to Detective Gerard in Perpignan to advise him what's happened, then we'll finish up here. Laurent is on call tomorrow and I see no reason to change that arrangement.”

We are discussing the rest of the list of people we'll need to interview when we hear a rabble of voices coming from the main office.

“We'd better see what's going on,” I say to Paul. “It's nearly close of day and we can look at this again on Monday when we're fresh. It's going to take a bit of planning.”

The noise is getting louder and when I open the door I see several familiar faces, all of them acquaintances of Michelle. Bad news travels fast, it seems.

“Messieurs et Mesdames, can I be of assistance? Is there a problem here?”

They all begin to speak at once.

“Is it true? Is Michelle dead? Has she been murdered? Did Jacques kill her? I heard she was burned to death in a fire? What will happen to her business, she's holding a deposit for me? Is it safe?”

I hold up my hands in a placatory fashion. “Please,” I say. “I can't hear you when you're all speaking at once.” They stop talking and I begin to explain. “Michelle Moliner was found dead earlier today. She died in the sauna at her home. We suspect she's been murdered, but we'll know more when we get the doctor's report. There was no fire. I cannot comment on her business. You'll have to speak to someone in her office about that. There is nothing more I can tell you now, and as we are about to lock up, I'd be grateful if you would all leave.”

They begin to mutter once again, showing no signs of leaving.

“Please,” I say. “Have you no homes to go to?” Reluctantly, they shuffle through the door chatting to each other, and I'm certain they all have a theory. All except Monsieur Claude – he alone is silent and when the others leave, he remains.

“Yes, Claude,” I say. “Is there something more? Can't it wait until Monday?”

“I suppose it will keep, Danielle, but I think you'll want to speak to me. I have some information, one or two things that might be important.”

Paul looks pointedly at his watch. “Can Laurent and I leave now, Boss? There's a meeting of the pétanque club tonight and we're already late.”

I look at the clock. We should have left ten minutes ago.

“We'll all leave,” I say. “I'll walk with you as far as my car Claude, and we can agree on a time to have a chat, but let's leave it until Monday afternoon please. I plan to spend what's left of the weekend with Patricia and Monday morning is always busy.”

I am curious to hear what he has to say about Michelle, but I feel no sense of urgency on Claude's part, so it can wait. In the end, he chooses not to walk with me because he too, is attending the pétanque meeting and I watch as all three men race away towards the riverside venue.

I find it difficult to come to terms with having to deal with yet another death in my area. This used to be such a quiet place. Maybe it has something to do with global warming, I speculate. Maybe people are simply becoming more volatile and hot-headed.