The Art of Murder by Louis Shalako Page B

seeing what he expected to
see.
    “ Forgive the formalities,
but is this the body of your brother, Theodore Duval, a resident of
the Rue Duvivier? Take your time please. I know this is hard for
you.” Guillaume had his hand on the man’s shoulder, and some
emotions were visible in the heaving for breath and the sort of
straightening up of Alain’s head and shoulders.
    “ Well. I suppose it is. It
must be.” He looked wildly around the room for a moment, as if the
walls, the ceiling, the stainless steel fixtures and glaring work
lights could give him any real assurance.
    Andre coughed right on cue, and the
pair made their way into the room.
    “ Did your brother have any
identifying marks? Are you aware of any birthmarks, injuries or
tattoos, that sort of thing? Is this his ring?” Levain went by the
usual routine.
    Brothers often knew a lot about each
other, but there was the difference in their ages.
    “ I don’t know.” Alain
accepted the presence of the two officers with no remark as they
came up and around on the other side of the table now. “Yes. That’s
his ring, or one very much like it.”
    “ Was Theo the sort of person
to commit suicide?” Gilles saw the look on Alain’s face.
    “ No. Never.” He seemed sure
enough of that.
    “ Can you think of anyone who
might have wanted to kill him?”
    The fact that Alain Duval wasn’t
shocked at the question didn’t mean much. He must have had some
time to think on the way back from Brittany. His answer to this
question didn’t surprise Gilles either.
    “ Huh. On some level, oh,
probably hundreds or even thousands. On the one you mean, not
really. He really was a good person. All, or I should say most, of
his former lovers speak well of Theo. They parted with regret,
rather than outright hatred.”
    “ On some level?” Gilles
wanted more, something specific.
    “ His competitors.” Alain had
a dry tone that showed he had recovered well from his initial
shock. “Are you saying this isn’t my brother?”
    “ No, young man. I’m saying
that I would like to know for certain. Which is just what you can’t
do for us, apparently.” Gilles wasn’t trying to sound mean or
angry. “It’s all right, it’s just a fact of life for
us.”
    It wasn’t just the physical damage to
the tissues, there was also a lot of bruising. Other tissues were
swollen and distorted.
    “ I guess it could be him.”
Alain shrugged in a kind of exhaustion. “It could hardly be anyone
else.”
    He’d been though an emotional
roller-coaster ride. It was the anticipation, the forewarning of
what lay ahead. The long journey must have been a sleepless one,
judging by the eyes.
    “ Yes, well, look, it
probably is him.” Levain stated the obvious. “He was in his house,
in his studio, in his own suit, wearing his own watch, his shoes,
and his own underwear. Sorry, but we’re all tired.”
    “ I wish I could be of more
help.” Alain sighed in futility. “We weren’t exactly close, these
last few years, but of course we never know how much time we have
left.”
    Gilles couldn’t have put it any better
himself.
    “ When was the last time you
saw your brother?” Levain was poised with his pencil.
    “ It would have to be a
month, or maybe a month and a half ago.”
    “ I suppose you’ll be going
to the house.” Gilles wasn’t making a statement, and yet neither
was it a question.
    “ Yes, but first I’ll need to
do something about my baggage. I came straight here from the
Gare.”
    “ Ah, yes. We also have
another appointment, and a few other dockets to deal with this
week.” Gilles extended a hand to Alain. “Our condolences on your
loss, and if there is anything we can do, please let us
know.”
    To no one’s surprise, tears welled up
in Alain’s eyes, and he turned as if drawn by magnetic force to
what remained of the person on the slab.
    “ It’s probably him.” The
sobs were torn from Alain, the words almost indecipherable. “Poor
Theodore! He missed the