Bruno, Chief Of Police 01 - Bruno, Chief Of Police by Martin Walker

Author:Martin Walker [Police, Bruno, Chief Of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-04-27T18:30:00+00:00

You can use the cabane by the swimming pool to change.’

Those last words almost disappeared into the wind as she took off again,

cantering over the turf to follow Christine back towards the house, taking the

long way round the back of the property rather than having to dismount and deal

with gates and fences.

‘Two handsome women riding fast on horseback. Mon Dieu, but that’s a magnificent

sight,’ exclaimed the Baron, and Bruno knew that whatever happened on the tennis

court, the day would be a success.

He had warned the Baron that the two women played in tennis dresses, so both men

wore white shorts and T-shirts. It struck Bruno that their four white-clad

figures looked almost formal as they met on the court and made introductions.

The Baron bowed as he presented Pamela with a bottle of champagne ‘to toast your

victory, Mesdames’. She took it quickly to the cabane, where an ancient

refrigerator purred noisily, and by the time she rejoined them, the Baron had

invited Christine to be his partner and Bruno was sending forehands over the net

to each of them in turn.

‘It looks like you’re stuck with me,’ he said as Pamela came onto the court,

bringing another can of tennis balls.

‘I always prefer to have the law on my side, Bruno,’ she smiled, and they began

to knock up seriously, two balls in play, with Bruno sending his to Christine

and the Baron playing with Pamela. The women played well and with careful

control, placing each ball deep, and Bruno found himself responding in kind and

getting into a rhythm of forehand after forehand. It was a satisfying routine

after his more usual knock-up style that sent half the balls into the net.

The first set went with serve to four all, although Bruno had to fight back from

fifteen-forty down. Pamela and Christine knew the court and the strange ways of

grass, and used their experience to position themselves while Bruno and the

Baron tired themselves scrambling to try and anticipate each wayward bounce. The

women still looked cool and fresh and in control, while the men were mopping

their brows and flapping the fronts of their shirts.

At set point, Bruno waited for the crucial serve, swaying gently on the balls of

his feet, knowing the Baron’s game well enough to expect a slice. But the Baron

fooled him, serving a fast ball to his forehand, and Bruno played it down the

line back to Christine. She returned it to him, and he played the same shot back

to her from the baseline. The rhythm was back. Five strokes, six and then eight,

and the rally was still going strong when Christine suddenly changed tactics and

hit her next forehand hard to Pamela. She played it back to the Baron, and it

was their turn to exchange strokes from the baseline. Then Pamela’s sixth shot

hit some oddity on the grass surface and the ball bounced high and wide. The

Baron barely scrambled it back, saw it hit the top of the net and drop forlornly

onto his side of the court. Game and set.

‘What a magnificent rally,’ called Pamela, with an enthusiasm so warm that Bruno

could not think it quite genuine.

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