An Uncertain Place by Fred Vargas Read Free Book Online Page B

shock,’ said Retancourt.
    ‘Yes,’ said Adamsberg. ‘He was the first to get here, and he’d no idea what he’d find. The gardener had raised the alarm. The duty officer at Garches called his boss, who called us when he realised what they were up against. Then Justin walked right in on it. You should relieve him. Can you co-ordinate the takeover with Mordent, Lamarre and Voisenet? We’ll have to do a spot check, inch by inch, make a grid and collect the remains.’
    ‘How on earth did he do it? Think how long it must have taken.’
    ‘At first sight, it looks like he had a chainsaw and a blunt instrument of some kind. Between eleven last night and four this morning. He was able to get on with it because these villas are quite a long way apart, with big gardens and hedges. No very close neighbours and most of them are away for the weekend anyway.’
    ‘An old man, you say. What do we know about him?’
    ‘That he lived here, alone, and that he had plenty of money.’
    ‘Plenty of money, yes,’ agreed Retancourt, looking at the tapestries on the walls, and the baby grand which took up a third of the room. ‘But alone? Surely you don’t get mas sacred like this if you’re really alone in the world.’
    ‘That’s if it’s him at all, Violette. But we’re nearly certain about that. The hair looks the same as we found in the bathroom and bedroom. So if it was him, his name was Pierre Vaudel, seventy-eight, former journalist, specialised in legal affairs.’
    ‘Ah.’
    ‘Yes, but according to the son, he didn’t have any serious enemies. Just a few disputed cases and some vague grudges.’
    ‘Where’s the son?’
    ‘On his way by train – he lives in Avignon.’
    ‘He didn’t say anything else?’
    ‘Mordent says he didn’t burst into tears.’
     
    Dr Roman, the police pathologist, who had returned to work after a long time off sick, came and stood in front of Adamsberg.
    ‘No point trying to get the family to identify him. We’ll do it by DNA.’
    ‘Obviously.’
    ‘This is the first time I’ve ever seen you sit down on a case. Some reason you’re not standing?’
    ‘Because I’m sitting, Roman, that’s all I want to do. What would you deduce from this carnage?’
    ‘Some body parts haven’t been entirely crushed with a heavy implement. There are recognisable sections of thighs, arms, just bashed about a bit. But the murderer took special care to demolish the head, hands and feet. They’re completely shattered. The teeth too. It’s a very thorough job.’
    ‘Have you ever seen anything like this?’
    ‘Sometimes you get faces and hands being obliterated to avoid identification. But that’s got much rarer since we have DNA checking. I’ve seen plenty of bodies that’ve been damaged or burnt, and so have you. But such a ferocious way of dismembering the body? No, it’s quite beyond comprehension.’
    ‘Where does it take us, Roman? Insanity?’
    ‘Sort of. It’s as if he went on repeating gestures over and over until he could do no more, as if he were afraid of leaving something undone. You know, it’s a bit like when you go back ten times to make sure you’ve locked the door. He didn’t only crush everything, bit by bit, and started again more than once, he chucked the pieces all over the place. No one fragment ended up next to another, even the toes aren’t together. It’s almost as if he was scattering corn in a field. Did he think there was a chance the old man could come to life again, or what? Don’t ask me to try and reassemble the body, it’s impossible.’
    ‘I agree,’ said Adamsberg. ‘He was out of control, panicking, in some kind of endless rage.’
    ‘There’s no such thing as an endless rage,’ his colleague, Commandant Mordent, interrupted aggressively.
    Adamsberg stood up, shaking his head, and stepped on to a platform, then on to the next, carefully. He was the only one moving. The other officers had stopped to listen, standing still on their own