out of the file. ‘Look at that straight line of puncturemarks. How could my brother, who was in a state of panic and very drunk, possibly have made three stab wounds in a perfectly straight line?’
Danglard examined the picture. It was true that the wounds ran in an absolutely straight line. He understood now why Adamsberg had been using a ruler to measure the Schiltigheim pictures.
‘How did you get hold of this picture? You were just a trainee policeman, a probationer.’
‘I pinched it,’ said Adamsberg calmly. ‘The fork was a very old garden tool, Danglard, it had a handle that was polished and decorated, and the crossbar was rusty. But the prongs were clean and shiny, without a trace of soil or a mark of any kind. Cleaned, polished, smooth as could be. What does that tell you?’
‘Well, it’s suggestive, but it’s not clear proof of anything.’
‘It’s as clear as the water in the pool. As soon as I saw that fork, the evidence exploded in my face.’
‘Like the toad’s guts?’
‘If you must. An outpouring of vice and wickedness, the real insides of the Lord and Master of the Manor. But then there he was at the barn door, watching me, holding his two dogs on the leash, the terrifying dogs who had torn Jeannot to bits. And when Judge Fulgence was watching you, Danglard, even when you were eighteen years old, it put the fear of God into you. He asked me what I thought I was doing, with that contained anger in his voice that was second nature to him. I said I’d come to play a trick on him, to unscrew the bolts in his workbench. I’d done that kind of thing so often over the years that he believed me, and with a royal wave of his hand he pointed to the way out and said, “I’ll count to four, young man, to give you a start.” I ran like crazy towards the garden wall, because I knew that on the count of four he would unleash the dogs. One of them got hold of my clothes, but I was able to pull myself free and get over the wall.’
Adamsberg pulled up his trouser leg and showed a long scar on his calf.
‘Judge Fulgence’s teethmarks are still there.’
‘His dog’s, you mean.’
‘Same thing.’
Adamsberg took a sip of the gin from Danglard’s glass.
‘At the trial, they took no account of my having seen Fulgence in the woods. I was too subjective a witness. But in particular, they didn’t accept the trident as the murder weapon. And yes, the spacing of the prongs was exactly the same as the wounds. That coincidence held them up a bit, and they took expert evidence again, because they were terrified of the judge, who was starting to make threats. But their second examination relieved them. The depth of the perforations didn’t correspond. They were too deep by half a centimetre. What cretins! As if it wasn’t easy enough to have plunged the screwdriver into each of the wounds and then put it in my brother’s hand. They weren’t just fools, they were cowards. The examining magistrate in charge of the case was just a lackey in the hands of Fulgence. They preferred to believe it was the work of a kid of sixteen.’
‘And did the depth of the wounds correspond to the screwdriver?’
‘Yes. But of course I couldn’t suggest that, since the weapon had mysteriously disappeared.’
‘Yes, very mysteriously.’
‘Raphaël had everything stacked against him. She was his girlfriend, he met her there regularly every night, and she’d just announced she was pregnant. According to the magistrate, he was panicked by the news, so he killed her. But you see, Danglard, there was vital evidence missing, if they were going to convict. No weapon, because it had disappeared, and no witness to testify that Raphaël was up there at the time. And he wasn’t there, because he had been playing cards with me, since leaving his friends. I swore that under oath.’
‘And as a policeman, your word counted double?’
‘Yes, I took advantage of that. I lied from start to finish. And now if you want
Danglard examined the picture. It was true that the wounds ran in an absolutely straight line. He understood now why Adamsberg had been using a ruler to measure the Schiltigheim pictures.
‘How did you get hold of this picture? You were just a trainee policeman, a probationer.’
‘I pinched it,’ said Adamsberg calmly. ‘The fork was a very old garden tool, Danglard, it had a handle that was polished and decorated, and the crossbar was rusty. But the prongs were clean and shiny, without a trace of soil or a mark of any kind. Cleaned, polished, smooth as could be. What does that tell you?’
‘Well, it’s suggestive, but it’s not clear proof of anything.’
‘It’s as clear as the water in the pool. As soon as I saw that fork, the evidence exploded in my face.’
‘Like the toad’s guts?’
‘If you must. An outpouring of vice and wickedness, the real insides of the Lord and Master of the Manor. But then there he was at the barn door, watching me, holding his two dogs on the leash, the terrifying dogs who had torn Jeannot to bits. And when Judge Fulgence was watching you, Danglard, even when you were eighteen years old, it put the fear of God into you. He asked me what I thought I was doing, with that contained anger in his voice that was second nature to him. I said I’d come to play a trick on him, to unscrew the bolts in his workbench. I’d done that kind of thing so often over the years that he believed me, and with a royal wave of his hand he pointed to the way out and said, “I’ll count to four, young man, to give you a start.” I ran like crazy towards the garden wall, because I knew that on the count of four he would unleash the dogs. One of them got hold of my clothes, but I was able to pull myself free and get over the wall.’
Adamsberg pulled up his trouser leg and showed a long scar on his calf.
‘Judge Fulgence’s teethmarks are still there.’
‘His dog’s, you mean.’
‘Same thing.’
Adamsberg took a sip of the gin from Danglard’s glass.
‘At the trial, they took no account of my having seen Fulgence in the woods. I was too subjective a witness. But in particular, they didn’t accept the trident as the murder weapon. And yes, the spacing of the prongs was exactly the same as the wounds. That coincidence held them up a bit, and they took expert evidence again, because they were terrified of the judge, who was starting to make threats. But their second examination relieved them. The depth of the perforations didn’t correspond. They were too deep by half a centimetre. What cretins! As if it wasn’t easy enough to have plunged the screwdriver into each of the wounds and then put it in my brother’s hand. They weren’t just fools, they were cowards. The examining magistrate in charge of the case was just a lackey in the hands of Fulgence. They preferred to believe it was the work of a kid of sixteen.’
‘And did the depth of the wounds correspond to the screwdriver?’
‘Yes. But of course I couldn’t suggest that, since the weapon had mysteriously disappeared.’
‘Yes, very mysteriously.’
‘Raphaël had everything stacked against him. She was his girlfriend, he met her there regularly every night, and she’d just announced she was pregnant. According to the magistrate, he was panicked by the news, so he killed her. But you see, Danglard, there was vital evidence missing, if they were going to convict. No weapon, because it had disappeared, and no witness to testify that Raphaël was up there at the time. And he wasn’t there, because he had been playing cards with me, since leaving his friends. I swore that under oath.’
‘And as a policeman, your word counted double?’
‘Yes, I took advantage of that. I lied from start to finish. And now if you want
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