The Crowded Grave by Martin Walker Page B

coughed.
    “Perhaps you could fit the car into a single space, Annette,” he said.
    She grinned, got back into the car, reversed and straightened it. “Anything else, before that ice cream?”
    “I hope you have some spare clothes in the car. That suit won’t look so good after we get to the site.”
    “I brought walking shoes, as you advised. And I’ve got a snowman in the back of the car,” she said, referring to the white plastic coveralls that were worn by forensics teams. “What more does a girl need?”
    “This,” he said, handing her the parking ticket.
    Now that the skeleton had been taken away, the grave site had reverted to being an archaeological dig. Bruno noticed that the winch had been placed over the large pit. He told Annette to be careful to follow his footsteps between the trenches and led the way to the place that was still marked off with crime scene tape. Teddy and two other students were digging just beyond it, extending their ditch and still looking for the midden. Bruno leaned over the yellow tape and looked into the empty grave.
    “There’s nothing to see,” said Annette, sounding irritated.
    “The forensics people have been doing their job,” Bruno said.
    “They even took some of the soil, probably wanting to see if the body bled in place,” said Teddy. “They sieved it first, which was decent of them, but found nothing.”
    “Not even a bullet?”
    “I heard them talking,” said one of the other students; he spoke good French, but with a strong accent. “They said it was still in the skull.”
    “And you are, monsieur?”
    “Kasimir, from Poland, University of Kraków.” He haddark hair, clear blue eyes and wore a T-shirt featuring some Polish artist Bruno had never heard of. Kasimir leaned against the side of the ditch, pulled a pack of tobacco from his pocket and began to roll a cigarette. “They put a black cloth over the grave and sprayed something. Then they shone a light down and said they were sure he’d been killed right here.”
    “Kasimir, did you hear anything else that might help the magistrate here?” Bruno recognized the standard forensic test for blood, although he’d be surprised if traces had lasted so long.
    “They said they thought they might get a rough date of death from the shoes he was wearing. They were sneakers, or at least they had been.” He shrugged. “Other than that, the skeleton looked intact, what we could see. They put screens up.”
    “People must be upset,” said Annette. “Would you like me to arrange for some counseling?”
    “Counseling?” asked Kasimir, snorting. “We’re here to find bodies. Skeletons are what we do.”
    “Something else I wanted to ask,” Bruno said, turning to Teddy. “Where were you in the early hours of this morning, around dawn?”
    Teddy looked startled. “In bed, fast asleep, back at the campsite.”
    “And Kajte? That girl I saw you with.”
    “She was with me.” There was a touch of bravado in the statement. “She was there when I woke up. We all had breakfast together. Kas was there. You remember this morning?”
    “I’m not good in the mornings, but we were all there today, drinking the worst coffee in the world,” Kasimir said, lighting his cigarette. “Why do you ask?”
    “Some animal rights militants tried to liberate a farm full of ducks. Some of the ducks were killed when they wandered onto the road, which seems a funny way of protecting animals.”
    “Maybe no worse than the alternative,” said Teddy. “But you’re all into foie gras around here.”
    “Not all of us,” said Annette, suddenly animated. She turned to Bruno. “What happened?”
    “A nearby farm had its fences torn apart, and PETA leaflets were stuck on the bits that were left. It stands for ‘People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals,’ ” Bruno said. “The farmer has kids to raise, and he barely makes a living as it is, without losing a few ducks and geese and having to repair fences. And