The Three Evangelists by Fred Vargas

Author:Fred Vargas [Vargas, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-37342-7
Publisher: Knopf Canada
Published: 1995-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

XXIV

NEVERTHELESS, WHEN VANDOOSLER CAME INTO HIS BEDROOM, WITH Leguennec at his heels at eight o’clock the next morning, Marc started up in panic.

‘I’m just off,’ Vandoosler said. ‘I have to go with Leguennec. Just do the same as yesterday, it’ll be fine.’

Vandoosler disappeared. Marc remained in bed, rubbing his eyes, with the feeling that he had narrowly escaped being charged with something. His godfather had not been asked to wake him in the morning. The old man was losing it. No, that wasn’t it. It must be that he was anxious to accompany Leguennec and was asking Marc to keep watch during his absence. The godfather obviously hadn’t told Leguennec all that he was up to. Marc got out of bed, took a shower and went down to the ground floor. Mathias, who had been up since some godforsaken hour, was already putting logs in the woodbox. He was the kind of guy who got up at dawn when nobody had asked him to. Marc, still feeling dazed, made himself some strong coffee.

‘Do you know why Leguennec came round?’ he asked.

‘Because we don’t have a phone,’ Mathias told him. ‘He has to come over if he wants to talk to your uncle.’

‘I see. But why so early? Did he say anything to you?’

‘Not a thing,’ said Mathias. ‘He looked like a Breton worrying about a gale warning, but I expect he often looks like that, even when there isn’t one. He just nodded to me and went straight upstairs. I think I heard him grumbling about houses with four floors and no phone. But that’s all.’

‘We’re going to have to wait,’ said Marc. ‘And I’m going to have to sit at the window again. It’s not a lot of fun. I’ve no idea what he’s hoping for. I just see men, women, umbrellas, the postman, our neighbour Georges and that’s about it.’

‘And Alexandra,’ said Mathias.

‘What do you think of her?’ said Marc hesitantly.

‘Adorable.’

Both satisfied and jealous, Marc put his coffee cup and a couple of pieces of bread on a tray, took it all upstairs and pulled up a high stool to the window. At least he wouldn’t have to stand up all day.

This morning it was not raining. It was a perfect June day. With luck, he was in time to see Lex take the little boy to school. Yes, just in time. She went past, looking a bit sleepy, holding Kyril by the hand: he seemed to be telling her all sorts of things. As before, she did not glance up at their house. And why should she, Marc asked himself once more. Anyway, it was better that way. If she had seen him perched on his stool, eating his breakfast, it would hardly have been to his advantage. Marc couldn’t see Relivaux’s car. He must have left very early. An honest fellow going to work, or a murderer? The godfather had said that the murderer in this case was a real killer. A killer like that would not be as colourless as Relivaux, and a lot more dangerous.

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