The Coldest Case by Martin Walker (mobi reader android txt) 📕

celebrate the Occitan language and culture was held in St Denis,’ Bruno said, knowing that he did not have to explain the event to J-J and Prunier. The city of Périgueux had recently been the location for the hundredth anniversary of the festivity.

‘It was long before my time and we haven’t had one in St Denis since,’ Bruno continued. ‘But that’s where Oscar’s body was buried. Sorry, I should explain that Oscar was the name J-J gave to the unknown murder victim. It’s reasonable to suppose that the St Denis félibrée was where and when your brother was conceived.’

‘It’s time we went to your home in Bordeaux to get the family photos, talk to your father and interview this Tante-Do,’ said J-J, lumbering to his feet. ‘If anyone can tell us what happened at St Denis it will be her.’

‘I’d rather go alone, at least to talk to my father,’ Sabine said, her chin thrusting even more forward. ‘It’s just him and me now and he knows nothing of all this. Coming after Louis’s death, it will be quite a blow for him and he’s not in good health.’

‘No, it’s not just you and him. There’s also the issue of an unsolved murder and you’re a cop,’ J-J said bluntly. ‘He may be your father but he’s the only one I can see at this stage with a motive for murder. He’s my lead suspect.’

‘You’ll have trouble getting much out of him,’ Sabine replied coldly. ‘He’s got early onset Alzheimer’s so he’s been in a home since Mum went into hospital for the last time. We’ll be lucky if he recognizes me or understands what we’re asking him.’

8

J-J was sufficiently sensitive to wait with the car while Sabine went in to the nursing home where her father lived, close to the university on the western fringes of Bordeaux and the vineyards of Haut-Brion and Pape Clément. Bruno, who had been in the rear seat between Yveline and Sabine, got out to stretch his legs. J-J, in the front passenger seat beside his aide and usual driver, Josette, clambered out to lean against the bonnet and light a cigarette. He must have craved one, never allowing himself to smoke when others were in the car.

‘We might get something from the photo albums even if Sabine’s father can’t tell us anything useful,’ Bruno said.

‘I’m pinning my hopes on this Tante-Do, and maybe on that facial reconstruction,’ J-J replied. ‘It’s hard, running into this setback after getting my hopes up with the DNA findings. I was wondering if there’s anything to be learned in St Denis. Maybe you can pick something up from the campsite the two girls visited.’

‘It’s still there, in the same family, and the grandparents who used to run it are still around. I’m sure they’ll help if they can but it’s a long time ago.’

‘You think I’m on a wild goose chase, don’t you?’ J-J turned to face him.

‘No,’ Bruno replied firmly. ‘I got this started again with the facial reconstruction theory. I know it’s a long shot, but this is a murder. We have a duty to press on. And maybe we can at least get a photo or a reconstructed face, enough to help find out who he was.’

Sabine came to the door and gestured for J-J to join her. In the car, they had agreed that squeezing all of them into the old man’s room wouldn’t be a good idea. Bruno looked at the handsome old mansion that had been recently converted into a nursing home and research centre into senile dementia. It was a fine house, eighteenth century perhaps, with tall windows and surrounded by pleasant gardens. Some patients sat in wheelchairs in the shade beneath a few large lime trees that looked almost as old as the house. Some of the old people had small dogs on their laps. Bruno had read that such pets helped to connect the inmates to the real world and improved their health as well as their moods. That made sense to him.

‘Heaven spare us from ending up in a place like this,’ said Yveline. ‘It seems a sick joke on the part of the Almighty, to grant us longevity but take our brains away.’

‘I don’t think the Almighty had anything to do with it. Modern medicine, better diets, and maybe doctors are better at diagnosing it, even if they can’t cure it,’ Bruno said. He recalled what his aunt’s doctor at the hospital had said about one in seven in the region being over the age of seventy-five and repeated the statistic to Yveline.

‘Putain, what’s that going to do to our taxes?’ she asked. ‘Maybe J-J has a point in smoking. That’ll probably kill him before he goes gaga.’ She looked across the car at Bruno. ‘Tell me, do you ever think about euthanasia?’

‘Not really.’ He was surprised by her question. ‘There’s no simple answer. I can think of circumstances where it makes sense, but I can also see it opening the way to a great deal of abuse. And it would put a heavy burden on the medics we’d expect to do it.’

‘So we stick with the law as it stands, even though we know the law is sometimes an ass?’

‘So long as the laws are made by deputies we elect, we stick by those laws. As cops we swore to uphold them. It’s not the laws that are an ass, it’s us, the people and the deputies who make the laws. The laws change along with us. When we were born, Yveline, both abortion and homosexuality were illegal. Even slavery used to be legal. Maybe we change too slowly, but at least we change.’

The main door opened, J-J holding it for Sabine who was carrying a stack of photo albums. Once she stepped out, J-J offered her a clean handkerchief, took the books from her and came to the car, leaving Sabine standing by the door, her face turned away, her shoulders shaking.