“Really? Why so much difference?”
“I don’t know. Different levels of skills maybe. Anyway, once we have everything, we’ll look for people who appear on both lists. And we’ll go from there,” John said.
“Okay. I’m doing some research now,” Sovann said.
“About?”
“Similar murders elsewhere in the country. I don’t think our guy is a total beginner. We could find other clues.”
“Great.”
“Keep in touch, man.”
“Yeah. I’ll call you back tonight.”
John hung up and parked his car in the street. When he got home, Cécile was still there, wearing an apron, cooking dinner for two. He kicked off his shoes, kissed her and collapsed on the couch. He closed his eyes for ten minutes and tried to clear his mind. It was time to disconnect.
He looked around and noticed something different. It even smelled different. Cécile had cleaned up his apartment during his absence. No more dust on the TV, the shelves and the table. The floor had been mopped too. And the bedsheets were drying near the heater.
That woman…
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
“Do what?” she said.
“Cleaning everything.”
“It was either that or I had to go home. Sorry, but I can’t live in a slum,” she said, grinning. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ve been single for several months…”
He smiled. He didn’t think his place was that bad.
“I won’t be able to kick you out tonight, then,” he said. “I feel guilty now.”
“Don’t worry. I’m just cooking what’s in your fridge and I’ll bring the food home when I’m done,” she said with a wink.
They had dinner and watched a movie. John couldn’t stop checking his phone. He was waiting for a call from Alex, the IT guy who had promised to deliver at the end of the day. And he was still waiting.
When he opened his eyes, it was already bright outside. Morning light. John was still on the sofa. He had fallen asleep in front of the movie. He checked his phone immediately. Nothing.
Shit.
He thought about calling Alex right away but decided to wait a bit more. He needed his coffee first. Finally, at 11:10 a.m., Alex called him.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought the database would be easier to hack but I was a bit overconfident.”
“It’s okay,” John said. “Do you have everything?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Still at work. I was about to go home but I wanted to let you know I was done,” Alex said.
“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” John said as he threw the remaining of his cup in the sink.
He went to his bedroom and found Cécile sleeping. He thought about waking her up to tell her he had to leave, but decided against it. She would figure it out.
He met Alex at the reception of the bank.
“You’re sure the list is exhaustive?” John asked.
“I triple checked,” Alex said. “That’s also why it took a bit longer.”
“How many names?”
“Close to eight hundred over the last six months.”
Eight hundred? Jesus…
If the Dark Stallion was telling the truth, another woman in Paris would be dead by Monday morning. They say knowledge is power, but that was only partially true. Knowing was only one thing. Feeling helpless about knowing something was the most difficult. John didn’t feel like he had power at all.
In the afternoon, John called Pierre Gentil, of Crédit Parisien. He couldn’t start doing anything without the second list to reduce the list of consultants to something more manageable. Hopefully, just a couple of names. It would make things so much easier.
“Mr. Gentil?” he said on the phone. “Detective Montclair.”
“Hello, Mr. Montclair.”
“Still working on what I asked you?”
“I’m really sorry, we’ll try to start as soon as possible.”
John checked his rear-view mirror and eased his car to a stop at the curb. He frowned and closed his eyes, trying to stay cool. He was still gripping the steering wheel, and his knuckles turned white.
“Excuse me?” he said with disbelief. “Did I hear you say try to start?”
“Yes, I’m really sorry.”
“Stop being sorry,” John said, hitting the steering wheel with his palm, “Do you realize what it means? A woman will die, do you understand? You were supposed to be done already!”
“We had a P1 ticket.”
“What the hell is a P1 ticket?”
“Priority 1 support ticket. A big problem, if you like.”
“How big? More important than catching a murderer?”
“Twenty-five million euros were at stake, Mr. Montclair. My management was in panic and screaming at us. I had to deal with it first, I’m really sorry.”
John calmed down. Twenty-five million. He couldn’t even imagine the kind of pressure Pierre Gentil was under. But he knew how it felt to be yelled at by his boss. Not a pleasant feeling at all. Gentil was just doing his job.
“Alright,” John said. “Are you done now?”
“Yes.”
“So you can you start trying to get me that list then?”
“I’m getting started immediately. I’ll call you back as soon as I’m done.”
John hung up and started driving again, when his phone rang. It was Cécile.
“Cécile?” he said.
“Where are you?” she said. He could hear the disappointment in her voice.
“I had to take care of something but I’m done.”
“Are we going to spend time together or do you have other things to do?” she said. Her tone wasn’t aggressive. She was just asking. But obviously, she had her own expectations.
John sighed and blamed himself. Their relationship was still new and so far, she had been perfect. He hadn’t even said thank you for the dinner and the housekeeping.
“I’m coming home right now,” he said apologetically. “Sorry for leaving you alone.”
John hung up and accelerated, driving slightly over the speed limit. His phone rang again.
What the hell?
He didn’t recognize the number this time.
“Montclair,” he said.
“Papa?” a little voice said.
“Yes, honey. What’s wrong? What are you doing on the phone? You should be at school,” John said.
“I am at school. Where are you?” Claire said.
“I’m driving, honey. What’s the matter?”
John heard someone taking the receiver from Claire’s hands.
“Mr. Montclair?” a woman said with a bitter voice. “This is Claire’s teacher, Mrs. Denis.”
Oh no, please. Not Mrs. Denis…
John frowned. “Yes? What’s going on?”
“Claire’s mother said you were supposed to pick her up today after school. She’s been waiting for you for thirty minutes already,” Mrs. Denis said with an accusing voice. “Are you coming?”
John raised his hand to his forehead and shook his head. Friday! The week-end he had been waiting for so long to be with Claire.
“Jesus, I’m really sorry,” he said. “I’m on my way.”
“Are you working on this murder case, Mr. Montclair?” she asked. “The one they talk about in the news?”
John smiled. At least, Mrs. Denis knew why he had forgotten to pick up Claire and was tolerant, he thought. “Yes, I am,” he said, proudly.
“Well, if you’re not able to pick up your own daughter, I really don’t know how in the world you’re going to catch a criminal!” she said before hanging up.
15
John was faced with a dilemma. On the one hand, he wanted to be with Cécile and show her how much he’d appreciated being taken care of. On the other hand, he wanted to spend time with his daughter. Doing both wasn’t totally impossible. The only problem was that he didn’t know how each one of them would react.