Rocco and the Snow Angel - Novella: An Inspector Lucas Rocco Novella by Adrian Magson

Author:Adrian Magson [Magson, Adrian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cecil Court Press
Published: 2015-01-18T08:00:00+00:00

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8

Rocco drove home through the village in thickening snow, the heavy Citroen skittering dangerously on the icy surface and the wipers struggling to clear the screen. He felt a measure of frustration; he needed to visit the scene of the murder again but the conditions were too poor and the light fading quickly. Better to go in the morning when he could get a better sense of perspective in cold daylight, rather than sliding into a ditch miles from anywhere.

He saw lights on in the village café and decided to call in to tap the local grapevine. Georges Maillard, the owner, was polishing glasses behind the bar, his generous belly resting comfortably against the counter as he listened to three customers arguing over politics. He straightened up with a smile when he saw Rocco.

‘Inspector,’ he greeted the detective warmly, his hand reaching tentatively for a bottle of cognac on the back shelf. Ever since Rocco had saved him from a shooting at the hands of some would-be gangsters selling illicit drinks, Maillard had become a firm supporter of the big cop in the village.

‘Thank you,’ Rocco declined, ‘but I’m still working. I wondered if you’d heard anything about the shooting over near Fouillmont?’

Maillard scrubbed at his hair, which was like a shock of coiled wire. ‘Only gossip, sorry.’ He glanced at the three men, who had stopped talking. ‘I know they haven’t heard anything, otherwise I’d have been bored rigid by their theories – isn’t that correct, you lot?’

The three men variously shrugged, nodded or shook their heads, and went back to their argument, their lack of interest evident.

Rocco smiled his thanks at Maillard, knowing that if any information did surface, he would hear about it sooner or later. ‘Fair enough. If you get anything, you know where to find me.’

‘Bien sur. To be honest, I don’t think it’s of much interest here in Poissons; the priest wasn’t that well known here and most people probably think it was a hunting accident.’ He shrugged. ‘It happens, right?’

Rocco bade him goodnight and went back to his car and drove home. He debated eating something but had no real appetite, his mind taken up with possible explanations for what had happened to Father Guillaume and the identity and motives of the killer.

He made coffee instead. It would keep him awake, but since he wasn’t about to get to sleep easily, it mattered little.

Above his head there was silence. It seemed even the fruit rats in his attic, usually most active when he was in, had settled down for an early night, no doubt content to enjoy the heat rising from their human house guest below.

When the coffee was brewed he added a splash of Cognac and took it out onto the front step. He stood sipping it while allowing his thoughts to crystallise in the cold air. The usual village sounds were muffled by the falling snow and even the noise of cattle at milking on the nearby farm and the occasional

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