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

of your mum and Tante-Do. Then the other looks at it with the magnifying glass to see if there are young men with them. That’s what we’re looking for, images of Max and Henri. Pay special attention to Thursday evening, when they all met at some dance. And please be sure to keep them in order or we’ll be lost. When I’ve gone through the selection, I’ll take the Friday box and you two can take the Saturday.’

They got to work, Bruno with the loupe screwed into his eye, the two gendarmes side by side, Yveline making the first scan and then Sabine examining each chosen print with the magnifying glass. Bruno was halfway through the box of Philippe’s selections, with six of the photos to one side for closer perusal, when Sabine said, ‘I think I’ve got something.’

Bruno and Yveline crowded around her to examine a print of a musician in a black hat playing a very old-fashioned musical instrument with a crowd around him, Tante-Do and Sabine’s mum in the front row. There was a man behind Tante-Do with his arm around her shoulders, only half of his face visible. Behind Sabine’s mum was a man bending down and only his eyes and forehead could be seen.

‘That’s a good one,’ said Bruno. ‘Put it to one side.’ He handed Sabine a business card. ‘Paperclip that to it and note the date it was taken. We’ll need a system to identify each of these shots – let’s call this one the musician.’

They got back to work and towards the end of his batch, Bruno found an image of people dancing and there was a decent shot of Sabine’s mum facing the camera. Her eyes were focused on a taller, fair-haired man who seemed to be dancing with her. His face was in profile.

‘Here’s one,’ he said and the others crowded round. Philippe’s selected prints were not dated but he scribbled ‘Dance scene, Mum and Max,’ on a card as Sabine and Yveline examined the print. Meanwhile, Bruno went through the rest of the selection, picking out two possibles and showing them to the others.

‘There’s Mum, moving out of the photo but is she holding hands with the blond guy behind her?’ asked Sabine. ‘I think that might be Max.’

Bruno finished Philippe’s selection and began to attack the box of prints for Friday. They worked on together and by the end of their session, they had seven photos with more or less clear images of the two young women with their young men. To Bruno’s disappointment, there was no single clear image of either of the men’s faces but they had profiles and half faces, eyes and brows, ears and hands for each one.

He suggested they examine the possibles again, one by one, which resulted in one shot of Sabine’s mother kissing Max’s nose and giving a clear image of his mouth and chin. If he assembled the various photos, Yves at forensics should be able to put together a complete face. Henri, however, remained elusive. They had his eyes and forehead, his profile, his hands and a shot of the back of his head. There were no scars, no tattoos or any other distinguishing marks. Still, Bruno thought, Yves should be able to put something together.

‘This is amazing,’ said Sabine with a catch in her voice as she scanned again through the various photos of Max. ‘That’s my brother’s chin and his eyes and even his hands. There’s really no doubt in my mind that he’s my brother’s father. I’m sure of it.’

‘Let’s go through the possibles for Henri one more time,’ said Yveline. ‘But this time we’ll go through the Friday ones you looked at, Bruno, and you go through the others.’

They went back to work for another hour and came up with one photo that Bruno had missed of a group of people dancing. Tante-Do had her back to the camera with Henri facing her, his nose and eyes obscured by one of her arms but his mouth and jaw were clear.

‘That should be enough for forensics to put together images of each man,’ said Bruno, much relieved.

‘This calls for a drink,’ said Yveline. ‘The Gendarmerie is a stone’s throw from here and I have some wine in my apartment there.’

‘Good idea,’ said Bruno. ‘Just let me draft a receipt for each of the photos I’m taking. I could do with a drink after that intense concentration. Do you realize we’ve been at it for nearly four hours? No wonder my eyes feel tired.’

‘It’s not like we’ve cracked the case,’ said Sabine. ‘We can put together a couple of images of two unknown guys, one of whom was murdered by a blow to the head, probably on the Saturday night. But we aren’t sure that it was then that he was killed, rather than later. We don’t know his real name nor where he was from. And if we can’t prove when exactly he was killed, we certainly don’t know by whom. There’s no proof Henri was the killer.’

‘You’re right,’ said Bruno. ‘But Max was buried here near the St Denis campsite so he was probably killed there. And if it wasn’t Henri who killed him, why didn’t Henri report the death instead of just disappearing? Even if Henri was not the killer, we need to talk to him.’

‘We’re a long way further down the trail, Sabine, than we were when you arrived from Metz,’ said Yveline. I thought then that this was the longest of long shots and that we were simply indulging J-J’s obsession. Now we have a possible suspect, a face, a name, and a witness who can place him at the right place and probably within the relevant time frame.’

‘We have thirty-year-old bits of a face, a false name, and a witness who saw no crime being committed,’ said Sabine.

‘We have more than we started with but a lot less than we need, which is not unusual for this stage of an investigation,’