Dog Will Have His Day (Three Evangelist Book 2) by Fred Vargas

Author:Fred Vargas [Vargas, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2014-04-17T04:00:00+00:00

XVII

LOUIS MANAGED TO get up at about nine o’clock. He wanted to hurry, say hello, get it over, the sooner the better, because he couldn’t resist doing it. Marc was right, he should have avoided it, never see her face again, not take a closer look at the husband, but it was no use, he had never been wise enough to let things lie, he always wanted to stir it up. So long as he didn’t start a row, one of those compressed rows that drive people to distraction, things would be fine. So long as he didn’t act like a sarcastic bastard. It would all depend on the expression on her face. The whole thing would in any case be sad and depressing. Pauline had always been interested in money, she’d have got worse over the years, and it would be a sorry sight. But that was exactly what he wanted to see: a sorry sight, Pauline vegetating among her banknotes and fishy sauces, sleeping with that little man, eyes tight shut, Pauline unglamorous, unmysterious, caught in the toils of her worst failings. And when he’d set eyes on that, he wouldn’t have to give it any more thought, one box ticked. Marc was wrong, he didn’t want to sleep with her, but to be able to judge how much he didn’t want to sleep with her.

But watch out, he said to himself as he left the hotel, no cold-hearted picking of a quarrel, no vindictive sarcasm, too easy, too crude, get a grip, behave properly. He was surprised not to see any police car in front of the town hall. The mayor must still be asleep, and would in his dozy way be calling the cops during the morning, which would give more breathing space to the murderer. The face of the old woman on the rocks, of the sleeping mayor, of Pauline in bed with that guy, the face of a town full of no-hopers. Watch it, Louis, no picking quarrels.

He went up to reception in the thalassotherapy centre, pulling himself up to his full one metre ninety, conscious of standing very straight, and asked to see Pauline Darnas, her new name. No, he wasn’t a customer, he wanted to see Pauline Darnas. She didn’t see people in the morning? Right, would you have the goodness to tell her that Louis Kehlweiler would like to have a word?

The secretary passed on the message, and Louis sat down in a nauseating yellow armchair. He was pleased with himself. He’d done things politely, conventionally. He would say hello, and go away with the newly tarnished image of the woman he had once loved. The cops would soon be at Port-Nicolas, he wasn’t going to spend the night here, in this luxurious entrance hall where there was nothing of any beauty. Hello and goodbye, he had other things to do.

Ten minutes passed and the secretary came over. Madame Darnas couldn’t see him, and asked him to excuse her, and to call some other time.

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