Black Diamond by Martin Walker Read Free Book Online Page A

The baron helpedFabiola, and the two men voiced a cheerful good night as they steered the two women into the darkness, ignoring their protests about paying their share of the bill.
    “We’d have been there all night if we’d stopped to hand over four credit cards,” Bruno explained. “You can all pay me back later.”
    “It’s just as well, Bruno. I really do have to be at work early tomorrow,” said Fabiola, clambering into the back of Pamela’s car. “Good night, Baron. It was a wonderful meal.”
    Pamela drove off in silence, Bruno beside her. He realized that it was one of those deafening silences that only women knew how to manufacture, a silence that any mere male broke at his peril. He looked glumly at the road ahead, knowing that he needed to think about his own future if the mayor lost the election. Despite his political neutrality, Bruno was the mayor’s appointee and was widely known as one of the mayor’s right-hand men. A new mayor would be wary, even suspicious, and might well want to appoint his own nominee to the post. Not that Bruno could be fired; French employment law didn’t work that way. But he could be forced to transfer elsewhere in the
département
or the region, or even to a much larger municipal police force in a big town. He’d hate that. And with his rank, Bruno would probably be catapulted into a senior post ahead of some bright young man who was expecting promotion. He’d have an enemy from the start. Worst of all, he’d probably have to move, sell his house and find somewhere else to live that would take his dog. He’d have to give away his chickens and his ducks and geese, leave his vegetable garden and his truffles to a new buyer. He would have to make new friends, build new relationships, carve out a new life. And where would that leave him and Pamela?
    Fabiola interrupted his thoughts. “That violence at thesawmill wasn’t your fault, Bruno. And you stopped it pretty fast. Don’t brood about it. And don’t worry about Bill. That pretty face of his looks a lot worse than it is.”
    “I wouldn’t call him pretty,” said Pamela. “Handsome certainly, but there’s too much character there to call him pretty. He’s had an interesting life. I wonder if one of those windmill things would work for me.”
    “You can get grants for that these days,” said Bruno. “And for adding insulation to your roof. We’ve got some pamphlets about it at the
mairie.
”
    “It’s not just about money,” Pamela said crisply, and Bruno lapsed into silence again.
    When they reached Pamela’s place, Fabiola pecked them both on the cheek, said a quick good night and darted into her own house.
    “Perhaps I’d better walk back to town,” Bruno said.
    “Don’t be silly. It’s far too cold,” Pamela said, going through her kitchen door and shedding her coat. “Help yourself if you want coffee or anything. You know where it all is.” She served herself a glass of water from the tap, leaned against the sink and turned to face him. He hung up his coat and sat at the kitchen table. “You seemed rather down this evening. Don’t you approve of Bill?”
    Bruno shrugged. “I don’t know enough about him to approve or disapprove. But it’s a good restaurant, and I certainly approve of the energy saving. What surprises me is his sudden decision to go in for politics. He’s only been here a few months, and now there’s talk of him running for mayor already.” Bruno wondered how to put into words his discomfort at the threatening pace of change, at the disruption of the calm and ordered way of life in St. Denis that he cherished.
    “You mean you spent ten years sinking your roots intoSt. Denis and this attractive young prodigal son blazes back into town and starts to take over. It sounds as though you’re jealous.”
    Bruno looked her in the eye. “I’ve got nothing to be jealous about. If you find him attractive, you’re a free woman. I have no claims on you.” But the moment he