The Grave Gourmet by Alexander Campion

that even though I’m on the director’s staff, I’m just a junior underling around here. I have no stripes on my uniform at all. In fact, I don’t even have a uniform.”
    â€œThat’s not what I hear. I understand you’ve become quite the evil Machiavellian potentate. You have everyone’s ear and are a master manipulator of ministerial politics.”
    Jacques grinned a childish grin and carefully adjusted the silk square in his breast pocket. “Cousine, flattery will get you everywhere. Alors , Catullus said to Claudia, ‘Take the panties off your thoughts and we’ll give them a good spanking.’”
    Capucine launched into a summary of the case. When she reached Rivière’s interrogation of the two vigies Jacques guffawed loudly.
    â€œAh ha! I saw that expression. Looks like you have the hots for this delectable flic. I told you that geriatric foodie of yours was too stodgy to keep you interested for long!” He whooped with laughter.
    â€œJacques, will you shut up. This case is very important to me. And I’m still every bit as much in love with Alexandre as I ever was. And…well, you know…just as interested, and all that. More so, even.”
    Jacques whooped again and poked his cousin in the ribs. “Gotcha!”
    â€œJacques, please! Let me get to the end of the story. It seems that Delage had made a date to have lunch at the house of Olivier Ménard for the Saturday after he died. Oncle Norbert bullied Ménard into speaking to me and it turns out that Delage wanted to consult him about alerting the DGSE—or maybe another government security agency—about an undisclosed matter. Ménard told me that was the end of the story, but I had a strong feeling he was hiding something.”
    â€œSlow talking Oli…vi…er Mé…nard? He just always sounds like he’s…what is the right word?…ah, yes… concealing something. He’s the most secretive man in the government. He won’t eat in a restaurant because he can’t bring himself to reveal to the waiter what he wants. Probably thinks it’s a…state…secret.” Jacques erupted in a shriek of laughter.
    â€œYou’re in luck, though. The silly old fool actually did call my boss, the director, who was quite irritated. He dictated the file note to me. Ménard had a vague story. He wanted us to send an agent to see a man called Guyon who is in charge of R & D at Renault. Apparently some development project or other at Renault had been leaked. Hardly the sort of thing we’d be interested in. The director sent him packing. Told him to take it to the DST. After all, they do domestic spooking and we do the foreign stuff. That’s presumably what Ménard would have told Delage if he had seen him.”
    â€œSounds rather underwhelming,” Capucine said, crestfallen.
    â€œCheer up, cousine chérie, you can still stick white-hot needles under the toenails of this man Guyon. Maybe it’ll turn out to be a sinister plot.” Jacques shrieked his high-pitched laugh. “I’ll call the liaison guy at the DST for you. Maybe they got a call. They’re supposed to keep us informed about all their actions, but with them you never know. And if we hear anything here I’ll call you instanter.”
    â€œYou won’t forget?”
    â€œForget my favorite cousin? The one who taught me to…” He paused and then put a finger to his lips, rolled his eyes, and said theatrically, “Shush, these offices are all bugged.”
    â€œJacques, you’re impossible!”
    As he showed her out, he put his arm around her waist and fondled her rib cage. “Who’d have ever thought that my hottest cousin would wind up getting her rocks off with a big Pooh Bear?” Capucine slapped his cheek hard and walked down the hall. Two secretaries gave her very quizzical looks as she waited for the