Killer Critique Read Online Free Page B

the excessively ornate Empire desk that took up most of the floor space. Since then Martinière seemed to have transformed the room into a perfect Directoire period piece. Ponderous gilt framed portraits leaned threateningly from the wall at dangerous angles. Modern technology had been purged. The large surface of the desk was conspicuously devoid of a computer monitor and the phone had been banished to a tiny table at some remove from the desk, giving the impression it was very rarely used.
    The overall effect was that Martinière hankered to be back in the era of Fouché’s notorious police during the Napoleonic reign, when a handful of effete aristocrats ruled over armies of police thugs who accumulated extensive files of purloined letters, spied by insinuating themselves into households as servants, and resolved cases with fists and truncheons in dark alleys.
    Wordlessly, relishing the tension he was creating with his silence, Martinière lifted the gold-tooled top of an antique leather-covered blotter with the delighted anticipatory disgust of a small boy lifting a rock in the hopes that something truly awful will come slithering out. He produced a slim file, sheathed in flimsy blue-dun paper, and placed it delicately on his knee. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he extracted a gold fountain pen and used it to tap the top of the file.
    â€œThis is a very valuable case. Very valuable indeed. A well-known journalist has been found dead in the restaurant of an heiress to one of the most important fortunes in France. The press will pay a great deal of attention.” His tight, close-lipped smile curved into an upward U in satisfaction.
    â€œI’m planning on a rapid arrest, next Friday at the latest, with daily press bulletins this week to announce my progress. In the following week I shall be unstinting in giving interviews about the success of my methodology.
    â€œI know that you agree with me that a rapid arrest is mandatory and eminently feasible. There are only ninety-three possible suspects. I want you and your policemen to screen them all and bring me a list of those who could have had any sort of motive. You are to spare no efforts. If you think wiretaps or close surveillance is indicated, I will approve those immediately.” He glanced at Capucine to verify she was following.
    â€œBased on your screening I will convoke the most suspicious individuals and interview them here. I will require your preliminary results so I can begin my interviews in the next two or three days. Is that perfectly clear? I’m confident I will have the culprit identified by the end of the week.” He again leaned forward to peer at Capucine, confirming that she had understood.
    â€œCommissaire , are you sure you’ve assigned enough staff to get the work done in the requisite time frame?” His tone was that of a governess questioning the study habits of a wayward young ward.
    â€œMonsieur le juge, I have a total of eight brigadiers on the case. I’m planning on having the entire list interviewed by the end of the week.”
    Martinière sat up straight in his chair and pointed his pen at her as if it was a weapon. “ Attention, Commissaire! The police are not to interview the suspects, only check their backgrounds. I will interview them myself. This case is too important to be handled otherwise. I’m absolutely determined to make an arrest by the end of the week. This case is providential, both highly visible and rudimentarily straightforward. It’s precisely what I need to demonstrate the viability of the institution of the juges d’instruction.”
    Capucine was incredulous. “Am I correct in understanding that you don’t want us to contact any of the possible suspects?”
    â€œCommissaire, it’s not a question of ‘don’t want.’ I absolutely forbid it. I will do the interviewing. Suspects that have already been interviewed by heavy-handed