Black Diamond - Martin Walker [76]
He put the book to one side and had just begun searching the shelves alongside, above and below, all devoted to Vietnam, when his mobile rang. He did not recognize the number on the screen but flipped it open and said, “Allo.”
“Bruno, it’s Florence from the truffle market.” Her voice was fast and excited, almost breathless. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you. I got the job. Rollo wants me to start next month when school reopens.”
“That’s great news, Florence, congratulations. I’m really pleased it worked out. And since you’ll be working in St. Denis, you can put your children into our nursery school.”
“It’s even better than that,” Florence replied. “Rollo said I can have one of the apartments at the college. There’s one empty, two bedrooms, and the rent’s lower than what I’m paying now for one bedroom. It’s subsidized, Rollo says.”
“In that case, the drinks are on you next time we meet,” he said, laughing at the excitement in her voice and wondering what that rather stern face of hers would look like now that her happiness was almost spilling through the phone.
“I’ll be delighted. In fact, I wanted to invite you to dinner to thank you properly. You’ve no idea how this changes everything.”
“You don’t have to do that, Florence,” he said, thinking of how little money she had, but also remembering how impressed he had been at their only meeting by her intellect and her character, and how he had mused at the way she might look with different clothes, a different hairstyle.
“But there is something you could do for me,” he said. “Well, not just for me but also for the truffle market, I suppose. That logbook you mentioned, recording all the sales of the extra truffles after the market closed. Didier said it would be with the papers stored in the mairie. It isn’t. I searched all through the box of files. If you could track it down, I’ll buy you dinner, or maybe make a lunch for you and the children together. That would be even better, since they’ll get to know me when they start school and come to my tennis lessons. And they’ll like my dog.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re letting yourself in for?” she said gaily. “It will be a very chaotic lunch with two boisterous three-year-olds and a very harassed mother. Not many single men would put up with that. But certainly I’ll look out for the logbook. If anyone can find it, I can.”
“And that reminds me,” Bruno added. “Since you’re about to become a citizen of St. Denis, there’s a children’s party we’re planning. It was originally going to be for the kids of the people who lost their jobs at the sawmill, but it’s sort of grown into a party for all the children, and it’s going to be at the old folks’ home, opposite the post office.”
When he closed his phone, Bruno was feeling in a much better mood and turned back to Hercule’s books. There were hundreds of them. He concentrated on the books with an index, thumbing through to find references to the Binh Xuyen, and those that contained Hercule’s own bookmarks with notes on them. After nearly an hour of searching and skimming the texts, he had chosen three books in addition to Savani’s. The newest was Le Viêt Nam depuis 1945: États, marges et constructions du passé, with half a dozen bookmarks. There were even more bookmarks in a book called Le maître de Cholon, about a Binh Xuyen leader called Bay Vien. But the most bookmarks of all were tucked into page after page of a fat paperback in English, The Pentagon Papers. Perhaps he could get Pamela to help him translate the marked passages, he thought, but then caught himself and felt the good mood that Florence’s call had stirred start to evaporate. Pamela did not seem inclined to see much of him these days, far less to be helpful. Beside the paperback he found a photocopy of a master’s thesis from the University of Paris VII, titled “Les Binh Xuyen, étude d’un groupement politico-militaire au Sud Vietnam (1925–1955).”
He checked his watch. It was time to join J-J and the brigadier for the drive to Bordeaux. Swiftly he changed from his uniform into the civilian clothes he had