Black Diamond - Martin Walker [46]
Rollo paused. “You know this means the mayor could lose?”
Bruno nodded.
“Where would that leave you?”
Bruno shrugged. “I wouldn’t lose my job. But a new mayor could have me transferred elsewhere.”
“Merde, Bruno. Tell people that, and the mayor wins by a landslide.” Rollo winked and went into the consulting room.
As he left the medical center, Bruno’s phone rang. J-J’s number was on the screen.
“They’ve got four guys here at the house, and they’ve been through everything. No sign of the truffle journal,” J-J said. “But there is a safe-deposit key for a bank in Bergerac, and I’m arranging for an authorization letter to examine the contents tomorrow. And there was no journal listed in his belongings on the forensic report. And talking of forensics, they have some interesting stuff from the stolen Mercedes. Human hair, a cigarette butt and a used tissue, which means DNA evidence if we ever manage to find a suspect. By the way, you’ll be in trouble with the investigating magistrate for taking the Land Rover.”
“No, I won’t. Forensics had already examined it and gave me the receipt to prove it. And I’m an executor of Vendrot’s estate. What’s more, he left me the vehicle in his will, along with that journal.”
“You go on like this and you’ll be a suspect,” said J-J. Bruno could almost see his grin through the phone connection.
“That’s what Isabelle said.”
“She’ll get her hands on you yet. Listen, I’m going back to Périgueux to take a look at the Chinese restaurant. You get anything out of the Duongs?”
“Not much. They said Vinh and his wife are safe and they’ll try to put me in touch.”
“No cooperation?”
“Not much. They’re frightened and clammed up. Duong came in a car with a driver and what looked like a bodyguard. Did you put in a request for the citizenship papers?”
“First thing I did. And I also spoke to this special unit in Paris that’s dealing with Chinese organized crime, and they’re sending somebody down to work on the fire. They added their own priority onto the request and say we should get something on the citizenship papers tomorrow.”
“We’ll talk then,” said Bruno, and checked the time before he closed his phone. He’d just have time to take his dog for a run, shower and change and pick up Pamela before the meeting. And he’d better take that side of venison out of the baron’s freezer on the way. That was the unwritten rule. When a hunting friend died, you ate some of the last meat you’d hunted together and then drank to his passing.
11
The dining room of the retirement home was the largest indoor space in St. Denis, and by far the most popular for political meetings, since even the most boring event would get at least a modest audience from the old folk. But this time it was more than crowded, with the tables stacked away, every chair occupied and another hundred people standing against the walls and in the doorways. Bruno was impressed. At least one in ten of the inhabitants of the commune of St. Denis was present, and he couldn’t remember any previous political meeting getting even half that number. At the far end of the room three more chairs were squeezed precariously onto a very small dais, and Alphonse was trying to stop the microphone from howling every time he brought it toward him.
“Turn your phone off,” shouted someone from the front row. Alphonse obeyed, and the electronic howling stopped.
“Friends, comrades, fellow citizens of Planet Earth,” he began. “This is a public meeting, but only those with Green and Socialist Party membership cards will be allowed to vote. And we have our party lists here, so we’ll know who you are before we hand out the ballots. It will all be democratic and transparent.
“As you know, we’ve hammered out a joint program for the Greens and Socialists for next year’s municipal elections. There are copies of the program here in the hall for anybody who hasn’t read it already. If it’s approved tonight, we’ll present a common list of candidates next year, whose names will be on tonight’s ballot paper. So there’ll be one box to vote for the program,