Murder in the Rue De Paradis by Cara Black Read Free Book Online

confess?”
    “I’m the one to ask questions, Mademoiselle,” he said, glancing at the wall clock.
    “But of course, Sergeant,” she said. “Such a shock, everything’s happened so fast. Why would this man . . . ?”
    He shrugged. “Look, we see it all the time. I shouldn’t say this, but we figure it’s a lover’s quarrel or pimp payback time.”
    “But—”
    “Even the decent ones sell their bodies when their veins need it. It’s a disease.”
    She gritted her teeth. He assumed too much.
    “How does that explain slitting Yves’s throat?”
    “The victim’s cell phone and wallet were in this mec ’s possession.”
    Circumstantial evidence at best, she thought. “Did he admit it?”
    “I’m not privy to the report, Mademoiselle,” he said, closing down. “As I said, it’s the Brigade Criminelle’s domain. Talk to them.”
    Prying information from them was hard. Despite the sergeant’s simple take on Yves’s murder, she counted on the Brigade to perform a thorough investigation. Yet the sergeant indicated that there had been a time lapse before they realized it was homicide and the Police Judiciare responded. Evidence might have fallen between the cracks. She was determined not to leave without discovering something .
    “May I claim Yves’s belongings?”
    “Not my department.”
    She tapped her foot. “Officer. . . .”
    “Go through the proper channels, Mademoiselle,” he said. “Fill out the proper forms.”
    One of the medics covered up the junkie with a sheet. The other snapped the medic kit closed with a sigh.
    René’s question circled in her head, “How well did you really know Yves?”
    “ Ne quittez pas, hold on,” the uniformed receptionist said, putting her hand over the phone receiver and staring at Aimée. “ Oui? ”
    Several perspiring flics burst through the station doors holding a wild-eyed man, his tie undone and suit jacket falling off his shoulders, shouting “I’d do it again; the mec stole my wife.”
    “Intake!” one of the flics said. “We need a free cell. Now.”
    “I’m requesting a victim’s belongings,” Aimée said, hoping to grab the receptionist’s attention long enough to get the proper paperwork. It had taken a year and a half to obtain the charred contents of her father’s pockets and his melted eyeglasses.
    “Fill out Form 405, back and front.” The receptionist slid a stapled sheaf of papers over the counter, then gestured with a thumb behind her at the flics . “Escort monsieur to intake room one. Our first cell, the premier accommodation, will free up in a moment.”
    By the time Aimée came to the end of the form under “relation to the deceased,” she stopped. Her chest tightened and she wrote fiancée. Confronted by a blank under “next of kin,” she realized she didn’t even know if Yves had family.
    “Takes ten to fifteen working days,” said the receptionist, stamping a time-date on the application.
    “But—”
    “That’s for family members,” she said, not looking up. “Otherwise it’s up to the commander.” She paused. “ Non, I’m wrong, the Brigade will handle this.”
    Aimée nodded, knowing it useless to argue. Meanwhile, the blond medic who seemed to have been acquainted with the junkie might prove more helpful.
    Outside the station at the end of the street, a black barge floated in the canal’s dark green water, waiting to enter the next lock. Leaves on the plane trees lining the canal glittered with raindrops in the now-bright sun. Muggy dense heat filled the air and sunbeams danced on the puddles between cobblestones. A bucolic scene except for the panier à salad , the “dead van,” pulling up behind the ambulance.
    “Renaud V-o-r-n-e-r aka Romeo Void, spell it right, Jean,” said the medic to her partner who was filling out a form on his clipboard.
    Aimée paused by the ambulance as the two medics shut the back door.
    “You’re more acquainted with his medical history than he is . . . was,