out the lights?” She touched his arm. “You must have beautiful children.”
“No children,
madame le juge
.”
They had reached the end of the Chemin des Petites Abymes and were within sight of the hospital.
“If Desterres was motivated by sexual desires, why do you want me to hang on to him?”
“Desterres’s a politician. Politicians are all congenital liars—otherwise they wouldn’t be politicians. When somebody like Desterres comes to see you at seven in the morning and volunteers information, you know he’s protecting himself.”
They laughed. As Anne Marie stepped from the sidewalk, Lafitte held out his arm to give her support. The policeman’s gentleness surprised her.
24
Sunkist
“I see no reason for the SRPJ to be hostile.” She screwed the top back onto the spray and slipped it into her bag.
“I like your perfume,
madame le juge
.”
They were sitting on a bench outside the hospital. The concrete slab was cold beneath her Cacharel skirt. Lafitte had placed the attaché case between his feet. One hand was in his pocket, the other held a packet of cigarettes.
They watched the arrival of taxis in front of the main entrance. Although it was still too early for visiting hours, several people, well-dressed and unsmiling, arrived carrying flowers.
“Anything’s better than Vicks vapor rub.” She clicked her tongue in irritation. “Why the hostility?”
Lafitte had taken out a cigarette. “
Madame le juge
, I don’t know anybody at the SRPJ who’s hostile. I don’t know anybody, either, who sees the need for your enquiry.”
“Dugain committed suicide at a time that three SRPJ officers were searching his offices.”
“So what?”
“No witness to his death. There are people who question the truth of the police allegations.”
Lafitte squinted, his head to one side as the cigarette smoke rose. “People believe what they want to believe. That’s something that you learn about Guadeloupe.”
“My job’s to get to the truth.”
“You question the honesty of the SRPJ?”
She allowed herself a smile. “I’ve never questioned your honesty, Monsieur Lafitte, if that’s what you mean.”
“Once you’ve got the Vaton killing cleared up …”
“Cleared up?”
“Once you’ve got it sorted out to your satisfaction, you intend to resume your enquiries into Dugain’s death?”
“Not a question of resuming—it’s a question of priorities.” She looked at him quizzically. “Why d’you ask?”
Here, on the top of the hill, the wind was stronger; the palm trees creaked in the humid morning breeze. Pleasant weather at a pleasant time of the day. She dreaded returning to the hospital basement. Her sensible shoes felt damp although they were quite dry.
“Why do you ask, Monsieur Lafitte? Are you worried?”
He played nervously with the packet of cigarettes in his hand. “Dugain was a bastard. Better that he’s dead.”
“There’s something bothering you?”
He threw the stub away and ground it out against the tarmac with the heel of his shoe. “You.”
“I bother you?”
Lafitte grinned, but the squinting eyes remained small and cold. “Worried for you,
madame le juge
, because over and above the professional relationship between us, I’ve always considered you a friend.”
“You’re very kind.”
“A friend with whom I’ve been able to work over many years.”
“You worry about me?”
“You’re not aware who Dugain was.”
“You knew him, Monsieur Lafitte?”
“You can only make enemies here. Enemies and a lot of trouble for yourself.”
“I think you’re trying to frighten me.”
“Dugain was a shit of the first order.”
“Answer my question—did you know him?”
“Never met him.”
“Then what’s the problem? I really don’t understand.”
“Lose a lot of friends by making unnecessary enquiries into hisdeath.” Lafitte set the crumpled cigarette packet on the bench.
“Madame le juge …”
“My friends are of my own
“No children,
madame le juge
.”
They had reached the end of the Chemin des Petites Abymes and were within sight of the hospital.
“If Desterres was motivated by sexual desires, why do you want me to hang on to him?”
“Desterres’s a politician. Politicians are all congenital liars—otherwise they wouldn’t be politicians. When somebody like Desterres comes to see you at seven in the morning and volunteers information, you know he’s protecting himself.”
They laughed. As Anne Marie stepped from the sidewalk, Lafitte held out his arm to give her support. The policeman’s gentleness surprised her.
24
Sunkist
“I see no reason for the SRPJ to be hostile.” She screwed the top back onto the spray and slipped it into her bag.
“I like your perfume,
madame le juge
.”
They were sitting on a bench outside the hospital. The concrete slab was cold beneath her Cacharel skirt. Lafitte had placed the attaché case between his feet. One hand was in his pocket, the other held a packet of cigarettes.
They watched the arrival of taxis in front of the main entrance. Although it was still too early for visiting hours, several people, well-dressed and unsmiling, arrived carrying flowers.
“Anything’s better than Vicks vapor rub.” She clicked her tongue in irritation. “Why the hostility?”
Lafitte had taken out a cigarette. “
Madame le juge
, I don’t know anybody at the SRPJ who’s hostile. I don’t know anybody, either, who sees the need for your enquiry.”
“Dugain committed suicide at a time that three SRPJ officers were searching his offices.”
“So what?”
“No witness to his death. There are people who question the truth of the police allegations.”
Lafitte squinted, his head to one side as the cigarette smoke rose. “People believe what they want to believe. That’s something that you learn about Guadeloupe.”
“My job’s to get to the truth.”
“You question the honesty of the SRPJ?”
She allowed herself a smile. “I’ve never questioned your honesty, Monsieur Lafitte, if that’s what you mean.”
“Once you’ve got the Vaton killing cleared up …”
“Cleared up?”
“Once you’ve got it sorted out to your satisfaction, you intend to resume your enquiries into Dugain’s death?”
“Not a question of resuming—it’s a question of priorities.” She looked at him quizzically. “Why d’you ask?”
Here, on the top of the hill, the wind was stronger; the palm trees creaked in the humid morning breeze. Pleasant weather at a pleasant time of the day. She dreaded returning to the hospital basement. Her sensible shoes felt damp although they were quite dry.
“Why do you ask, Monsieur Lafitte? Are you worried?”
He played nervously with the packet of cigarettes in his hand. “Dugain was a bastard. Better that he’s dead.”
“There’s something bothering you?”
He threw the stub away and ground it out against the tarmac with the heel of his shoe. “You.”
“I bother you?”
Lafitte grinned, but the squinting eyes remained small and cold. “Worried for you,
madame le juge
, because over and above the professional relationship between us, I’ve always considered you a friend.”
“You’re very kind.”
“A friend with whom I’ve been able to work over many years.”
“You worry about me?”
“You’re not aware who Dugain was.”
“You knew him, Monsieur Lafitte?”
“You can only make enemies here. Enemies and a lot of trouble for yourself.”
“I think you’re trying to frighten me.”
“Dugain was a shit of the first order.”
“Answer my question—did you know him?”
“Never met him.”
“Then what’s the problem? I really don’t understand.”
“Lose a lot of friends by making unnecessary enquiries into hisdeath.” Lafitte set the crumpled cigarette packet on the bench.
“Madame le juge …”
“My friends are of my own
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