This Night's Foul Work by Fred Vargas Page B

Drug Squad?’ asked Veyrenc, as he came downstairs alongside the
commissaire
, carrying his books.
    Adamsberg lowered his head without replying.
    â€˜Perhaps you can’t tell me?’ the
lieutenant
persisted.
    â€˜Yes. But I’m trying to think how to tell you.’
    Veyrenc waited, holding the banister. He had heard too much about Adamsberg to be surprised at his odd ways.
    â€˜Those deaths are a matter for us,’ Adamsberg finally announced. ‘Those two men were caught up in some web, some machination. There’s a shade hovering over them – they’re caught in the folds of its robe.’
    Adamsberg looked in perplexity at a precise point on the wall, as if to search there for the words he needed to elaborate his idea. Then he gave up, and the two men continued down to the ground floor, where Adamsberg paused once more.
    â€˜Before we go out on to the street, and before we become colleagues, can you tell me where you got the ginger streaks?’
    â€˜I don’t think you’ll like the story.’
    â€˜Very few things annoy me,
lieutenant
. And relatively few things upset me. Only one or two shock me.’
    â€˜That’s what I’ve heard.’
    â€˜It’s true.’
    â€˜All right. I was attacked when I was a child, up in the vineyard. Iwas eight years old, and the boys who went for me were about thirteen to fifteen. Five young toughs, a little gang. They hated us.’
    â€˜Who’s “us”?’
    â€˜My father owned the vineyard, the wine was getting itself a reputation, it was competing with someone else’s. They pinned me down and cut my head with iron scraps. Then they gashed my belly open with a bit of broken glass.’
    Adamsberg, who had started to open the door, stopped still, holding the handle.
    â€˜Shall I go on?’ asked Veyrenc.
    The
commissaire
encouraged him with a nod.
    â€˜They left me there, bleeding from the stomach and with fourteen wounds to the scalp. The hair grew back afterwards, but it came out ginger. No explanation. Just a souvenir.’
    Adamsberg looked at the floor for a moment, then raised his eyes to meet the
lieutenant
‘s.
    â€˜And what made you think I wouldn’t like the story?’
    The New Recruit pursed his lips and Adamsberg observed his dark eyes, which were possibly trying to make him lower his own gaze. They were melancholy, yes, but not always and not with everyone. The two mountain dwellers stood facing each other like two ibex in the Pyrenees, motionless, horns locked in a silent duel. It was the
lieutenant
who, in a movement acknowledging defeat, looked down first.
    â€˜Finish the story, Veyrenc.’
    â€˜Do I have to?’
    â€˜Yes, I think so.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because it’s our job to finish stories. If you want to start them, go back to teaching. If you want to finish them, stay being a cop.’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜Of course you see. That’s why you’re here.’
    Veyrenc hesitated, then raised his lip in a false smile.
    â€˜The five boys were from the Gave de Pau valley.’
    â€˜My valley.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Come on, Veyrenc, finish the story.’
    â€˜I have finished it.’
    â€˜No, you haven’t. The five boys came from the Gave de Pau valley. And they came from the village of Caldhez.’
    Adamsberg turned the door handle.
    â€˜Come along, Veyrenc,’ he said softly. ‘We’re going to look for a little stone.’

XII
    R ETANCOURT SANK DOWN WITH ALL HER CONSIDERABLE WEIGHT ON AN OLD plastic chair in Emilio’s café.
    â€˜Not wanting to be rude,’ said Emilio, ‘but if the cops turn up here too often, I might as well shut up shop.’
    â€˜Just find me a little pebble, Emilio, and we’re out of here. Three beers, please.’
    â€˜No, just two,’ said Estalère. ‘I can’t drink it,’ he said looking at Retancourt and the New