Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“These are detectives to see you, Maître.”
To say that my entire body goes cold with that announcement is an understatement. I look at them, trying not to seem guilty. Fortunately, I have found that blank disinterest usually translates as authority.
One of them is younger than I am with a full head of dark hair and a mustache that is clearly an endeavor to make him look older. He is not too much of a threat, I do not think. The older one makes me feel far more concerned. He is in his early fifties and has the expression of a man who has seen even more than I have. He has not said much, but his head is on a swivel.
“Detective Gaulle and Detective Barbier,” the older detective says, indicating that his name is Barbier.
“How can we help you, gentlemen?”
“We are investigating a case of two missing detectives.” Barbier cuts right to the chase.
“Oh?”
Suddenly, I am aware that Beatrix is lurking in the doorway. I can practically see her ears pricked, her eyes focused on them with a keen expression.
“Yes. Two officers went missing while on routine patrol in Bordeaux. They were called to a disturbance outside a crypt, and from there they were not seen again. However, one of the gendarmes had a trackable tag activated in his pocket. His wife was convinced he was having an affair. That tag has been tracked to this chateau.”
“Do you think they came here?” I frown slightly, as if I am confused. “We have not had any law enforcement visits from the city…”
Detective Barbier produces a piece of paper with a judicial seal emblazoned at the bottom.
“We have a warrant to search these premises. The tag is not as accurate as we might like and…”
Beatrix has disappeared.
We’re caught. They’re going to find the bodies and there will be no way of explaining our way out of it. I decide to play along until such time as I can no longer play. This isn’t over yet, but it feels very close to the end of the game.
“Let me assist you. I can open anything that might be locked, and ensure that your search is as thorough as possible,” I say smoothly.
“Thank you, Monsieur de Lune.”
They begin their search inside the chateau with me by their side. I am doing my best to appear helpful, while not too obsequious. There are many locked doors, but that is because there are a lot of private rooms and offices. None of them contain missing gendarmes.
“We can’t go in there,” I say as they stop outside one of the study doors.
They immediately look at me with raised brows and a sort of excitement that I know means they think there’s something inside the room.
“We can go where we please, Monsieur de Lune.”
“I think you’ll find…”
Gaulle opens the door, flinging it open in a way that is guaranteed to make the whole situation that much worse.
Mr. Volkov surges up, noticeably annoyed. He stood the second he heard voices, I’d bet, and now he is blocking the door, preventing their entrance. He even goes so far as to walk out and shut the door behind him, forcing them to move back so as not to be walked into.
“Mr. Volkov, these are detectives,” I explain. “They’re here investigating some missing persons.”
“And they think these missing persons are likely to be in my therapy session?”
Mr. Volkov gives the detectives a fearsome look. For the first time, I am glad for the fact this man does not give a fuck about authority in any of its guises. He’s very annoyed at having his session interrupted, and he is not shy about showing it.
“We are searching the chateau for two gendarmes who went missing on the fourteenth,” the detective says. “Have you seen any…”
“There are no dead officers in my therapy room.”
The detective gives him a keen look, eyes narrowed, tone tense as he acts as though he’s just made a major breakthrough.
“Now, why would you say dead, monsieur? They are merely missing.”
Oh, god. I feel that cold wave of sickness again. Mr. Volkov has just made himself a suspect. He’s not going to go down for us; he’s not even part of the pack. And I am pretty certain he hates me. We have not had a single positive interaction the entire time he’s been here.
But he doesn’t skip a beat.
“I assume if there were two missing living gendarmes running about the chateau I would have run into them from time to time,” Mr. Volkov says, smooth as silk. “I also assume that they don’t send search parties with warrants for people they assume are alive. And I hope that nothing short of dead men is a good enough reason to interrupt my session. I will be available in another twenty minutes if you’d like to ask any other obvious and pointless questions.”