'Sounds encouraging.' Dominic could feel his enthusiasm returning. After the disappointment of the coin, some hope. Duclos gets away with murder, but they nail him for molesting under-age boys. Drag him through the system, ruin his career, anything from a two to four year sentence. It was something at least. 'Let me know how the Ricauve interview goes.'
Dominic signed off. Lepoille had also tried to pep him up, suggesting that it was worthwhile tracking down the car owner after Caugine. He'd get on it right away. Dominic wasn't hopeful. The coin not discovered until almost four years later? Escaping the notice of both Duclos and Caugine. Unlikely.
But the strongest encouragement had come from Monique the night before. 'If you really believe in this, so strongly in fact that it's haunted you for over thirty years — how can you give up now?'
Dominic's single brandy after work had turned into three. It took a while for Monique's comments to cut through his despondency. 'Perhaps I'm just tired,' he offered lamely.
Or was it their sudden reversal of roles from the night before which had thrown him. Except for his complicity over the car sighting, he'd told her everything — his doubts about Machanaud, his suspicion of Duclos, how he had just gone along with the investigative flow, Machanaud's long prison sentence. He hadn't mentioned anything through the years because it would have underlined that Jean-Luc's suicide had been in vain. Too painful. Besides, it was just a suspicion. Even when he saw the possibility of gaining fresh evidence through the sessions, the same reasons prevailed, and he was also sceptical that anything tangible would materialize. 'Again, there was no point in upsetting you if it was all to come to nothing.' Until the coin. The first moment he realized he had a chance of proving something against Duclos.
Shadows returning, shifting clouds in her eyes: doubt, disbelief, slow acceptance. Sensing her mood — that in a few short sentences he'd torn down so many of her long held beliefs about the crime and Jean-Luc's suicide, compacted now by doubts about the openness of their own relationship, the secrets harboured over so many years — he felt the need to be dramatic: 'It's almost as if Christian is guiding us through this other boy. Giving us the clues to track his killer.'
'Yes, uncanny Dominic. Uncanny.' She was silent for a long while. She asked a few mechanical questions about the procedure and the state of play, then went to bed soon after. Her mood was sullen, thoughtful; little indication of how she felt. He was sure it still hadn't fully hit her.
But when the night following his mood was grey and he felt the case was at a dead end, she threw it all back in his face: 'So Christian's voice is guiding you, as if it's all somehow ordained. Meant to be. But now you're telling me it's impossible. I've never accepted what happened, Dominic. But at least I've been able to come to terms with the justice, such as it was. Jean-Luc was never able to do even that. And suddenly everything that happened then is meant to be wrong. You've harboured the doubts for thirty years — but you tell me just the other day. Then the very next you tell me it's all over. You've hit a dead end. "The possibility of justice I mentioned the other day — forget it." No, Dominic. It's not going to end like that.'
Dominic stressed the legal complexities of the case, mostly stock lines repeated from Corbeix: that psychic evidence presented in court was virtually non-existent in France; without tangible evidence corroborated by a third party they were lost; despite the accuracy of the tapes and transcripts and Calvan's credentials, they just wouldn't stand up in court on their own.
Monique's eyes darted frantically as he spoke: 'But there must be something, something!'
To her this new situation was just one day old, he realized: she was invigorated by its freshness. To him it was the end of a thirty year trail. She had no idea how tired he felt. He told her of the few weak options remaining.
She'd knelt in front of him, her arms on his thighs, her eyes imploring him. 'If that's all that's left, Dominic, then grasp it with both hands. Chase the next car owner, however remote the possibility. And if you fail, go for whatever remains: try and prove Duclos' background with young boys, drag him through the courts, ruin his career. Do whatever you can. You've waited thirty years — don't give up now!'
First thing Dominic called Bennacer, Deleauvre and Lepoille. Things were starting to move again.
But just before four o’clock, Lepoille called with bad news: the car owner after Caugine was dead. 'He was a bachelor when he bought the car, didn't marry till much later, and his wife's dead now too. There's a sister he shared an address with for a while — though two years before he even bought the car. I don't think she'll be much use.'
Hardly any numbness this time; with the events of the day before, he'd already half accepted that all chances of prosecuting Duclos for murder were gone.
Two days later, Deleauvre called to tell him that their initial visit to pressure Eynard hadn't gone well. 'He was very cagey, defensive, didn't want to say anything without his lawyer present. We've arranged another 'unofficial' meeting in one of his clubs with his lawyer present. But getting him to roll over for a deal might not be as easy as we first thought. Depends how his lawyer reacts.'
Dominic had visions of even this last hope with Duclos slipping through his grasp.
Dominic's spirits were still at a low ebb three hours later when the call came through. The desk sergeant announced a woman and 'something about a coin'. Dominic's first thought was Lepoille tracking down the second owner's sister.
It was Jocelyn Caugine. 'Sorry to trouble you, inspector. But I did remember something. I don't know whether it's useful or not. My husband bought the car from a garage near Limoges — they apparently did some sort of trade-in with the previous owner. Perhaps they changed the wheel and saw the coin you mentioned.'
Dominic felt his spirits soar. 'Do you remember the name of the garage?'
'Something-beau. I can't remember exactly. But it's the only garage for quite a while: about four kilometres out of Limoges on the St Julien road. Left hand side as you approach Limoges.'
'Madame Caugine — you're marvellous. Marvellous!'
'Well — I just hope it's useful.' Slightly flustered by his enthusiasm.
Useful? Dominic smiled incredulously. He wanted to hug Jocelyn Caugine until her cheeks flushed purple.
Dominic ordered the biggest food hamper he could find — cognac, champagne, select cheeses and pates, truffles and chocolates — and had it messengered to Jocelyn Caugine with a note: From your favourite Inspector. Then he phoned Lepoille.
THIRTY-SIX
The TGV train hurtled across the flat plain of the Sologne.
Three names left to trace. Dominic called Lepoille on his mobile. 'Anything yet?'
'Just bringing it up… here we are…' The sound of Lepoille's fingers on the keyboard. 'One more found so far. Still alive. Limoges address… and, yes, a telephone number.' Lepoille read it out, enunciating clearly so that Dominic could hear above the noise of the train. 'Nothing as yet on the other two I don't think…' Lepoille's voice drifted as he swung away, calling out across the room, some mumbled background conversation, faint echoing clatter of the computer room imposing…
…The room where Dominic had spent so much time the past two days: late evenings, endless chains of coffees in plastic cups, looking expectantly over Lepoille's shoulder while he waited for the next Internet or ASF link, instructions bouncing across the room as quick as the key strokes between Lepoille and his two team helpers, and then finally the names and telephone numbers…