Tom kicked the burly man once and then leapt over him. He winced from his bruised shin as he landed but kept going. Hugo could hear him cursing as he moved as fast as he could through the apartment. Hugo tested his own leg, flexing it as he leaned against the desk. Feeling returned and he pushed himself up slowly, able to put weight on it.
“Fuck.” Tom appeared in the doorway. “He got away. Sorry man, I'm not much for chasing these days.”
“That's OK, we have this one.”
The burly man looked up at them, hate written all over his face. The guy would charge a cattle prod or a wooden club, Hugo thought. Probably both. Not so happy, though, to charge Tom's gun.
“What do you want to do?” Tom asked.
“Call the police.”
“Dammit, Hugo.” Tom never took his eyes from the man on the floor. “Let's just ask him a few questions.”
“No.”
“I promise it won't take long.”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” Hugo said. “I can't do things that way, Tom, I'm sorry.”
“Why don't you just run out and buy some bread or something?”
“I'm not hungry.” Hugo shook his head. “Sorry Tom, we've gotta do this by the book. You call the cops, tell them to look for the other guy on their way over.” He opened the window and looked up and down the street. “That Renault is gone.” He looked at their captive. “You get here in a blue Renault?”
The man spat on the floor and growled.
Tom walked to the desk and dialed 17, the emergency number. As he spoke to the dispatcher, he perched on the edge of the desk, his gun angled toward the man's groin. Hugo went into the living room and dialed Claudia on his cell phone. When she answered, he told her what had happened. She listened without interrupting, and he noticed she quickly switched into journalist mode, dispensing with the “Are you OK?” formalities in favor of learning what had happened.
“Did they take anything?” she asked.
“I haven't checked yet, but I don't think so.”
“And no idea what they were after?”
“No. I'm guessing they were just nosing around and then were going to smash the place up. Warn me off.”
“What makes you say that?”
“First of all, they weren't armed to kill. Second, for the five seconds they were in charge, one of them wanted to know which one was me. I'm guessing to deliver a message.”
“Be interesting to know who from.”
“Yeah.” Hugo chuckled. “Tom's dying to ask him.”
“You should let him.” She sounded angry.
“No, I told him not to. Your cop buddies can interrogate him all they like. Hell, they can borrow Tom, if they want.”
“Maybe I'll tell them to,” she laughed. “Merde, Hugo. I'm sorry about all this. I just don't understand what's happening. And I'm glad you're OK.”
“That makes two of us.” Thank god for Tom and his visit. “Do you have any news on Max?”
“You want to talk about this now?” she asked. “I'd rather come over to tell you in person.”
“Honestly, Claudia, once the police take this sack of crap away, I'm getting drunk with Tom. You better tell me now.”
“Fine, yes, OK.” She paused. “They did the autopsy this morning. You're not going to believe this, but they are telling me that Max died of an overdose.”
“An overdose? Of what?”
“Cocaine.”
“That's ridiculous, Claudia. Max didn't use cocaine.”
“How do you know that, Hugo?” It was a sensible question. He didn't know it, not for sure, but it irritated him all the same.
“Look,” he said, “I've been around drug addicts all my working life. You've seen your share, I bet. We both recognize junkies quicker than we recognize our friends, and Max was no junkie.” He had a thought. “Do you know if the cops searched his flat today?”
“Yes, they must have.”
“Did they find any cocaine?”
“I don't know, Hugo. I have good contacts, but I'm still just a reporter.”
“But they would have told you if they'd found drugs there, no? They would have mentioned it, surely.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Probably only if they'd found a lot.”
“But you could ask some questions for me, right?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“OK.” Hugo could hear sirens coming down Rue Jacob. “I have to go, the cops are here.”
“You sure you don't want me to come over?”
“No, really Claudia, thanks. By the time we're done giving statements the only thing we'll be in the mood for is scotch.”
“Bien,” she said. “If you have any trouble with the cops, let me know straight away. In fact, I'll make a call, let them know who you are.”
“Thanks, I'd appreciate that.” His phone beeped. He didn't have call waiting, so it went straight to voicemail. He rang off and dialed his messages.
“Salut, Hugo, this is Ceci. I called thirty people today. Or tried, it's like they don't answer the phone on Sundays. I talked to a few bouquinistes I know, three. They all took money from Gravois and the SBP to give up their stalls. But they don't know why he was paying them. They took the money without asking questions. And Hugo, I talked to the brother of another bouquiniste. Pierre is one of the old-timers, I've known him forever. This man said that Pierre has been missing for five days. He said that someone else is working Pierre's stall now. He reported him missing straight away, but the police weren't interested, he said. Then he saw the news about Max and he's terrified.
“Hugo, he wants to know if his brother is floating in the Seine, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The police were at the apartment for an hour, taking photographs and statements, and drinking coffee. Hugo had left his front door open, waiting for them, but had been disappointed when he saw which detective was assigned to the incident. For his part, Capitaine Raul Garcia shook hands with Hugo and acted as if they'd never met. A different bow tie, Hugo noted. Red polka dots this time.
Garcia moved about the apartment taking in everything, not letting his crime scene technicians touch anything until he'd taken a mental photo. When he was done looking, he stepped out of their way and watched from a corner of the room with Hugo and Tom as his men dusted and snapped the evidence into place. He declined the scotch that the Americans were drinking but took a cup of coffee, black, one sugar.
Hugo watched a man in green scrubs dust the front door. Everything had happened so fast after Hugo had discovered it unlocked, he'd not had time to wonder how the men had got in.
“Tom, come with me.” He put his drink down and Tom followed suit. “Excuse us, capitaine.”
Garcia raised an eyebrow.
“I need to check on someone,” Hugo said.
“You need one of my men to come with you?” Garcia asked. It was very close to not being a question.
“No, thanks,” Hugo smiled, “they are all busy. This won't take a moment.”
They headed down the hallway and past the tech, careful not to touch anything.
“What's up?” asked Tom.
“I'm wondering how they got in.”
Tom stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down mournfully. “You gonna make me climbs stairs, after all I've been through?”
“Think about it.” Hugo was halfway down the first flight, but he stopped and turned. “They didn't kick it in and I didn't leave it unlocked.”
“You sure about that?”
They both knew the answer. Neither of them would leave an apartment unlocked when they were inside, let alone away for a few days. It was second nature. “They had to have used a key.”
Hugo watched as Tom understood. “You wouldn't have left one lying around, so they must have gotten it from someone else. The concierge.”