The Beast of the Camargue by Xavier-Marie Bonnot Read Free Book Online

harm!”
    Maistre was the exact opposite of de Palma: short and stocky, with a bright face beneath a black mane of hair. Always ready to laughat anything, even the dirtiest tricks. The two friends had met in the
Brigade Criminelle
at 36 quai des Orfèvres in Paris, the sanctum of the
Police Judiciaire
. Their friendship had been cemented during long evenings spent over packs of beer instead of their guns.
    When the Baron returned to Marseille, Jean-Louis had followed him. Now he had a wife and children, and had abandoned the
Police Judiciaire
for the quieter pastures of the
Sécurité Publique
.
    â€œTell me, Le Gros, does the name William Steinert ring any bells?”
    â€œYou should move to a real police office, Baron, that way you’d be up to date—we know our stuff in the
Sécurité Publique
! We’ve got a missing person’s alert for him. It arrived this morning. You do mean the German billionaire who lives in Provence?”
    â€œThat’s him. Do you know anything else?”
    â€œNo, sir. Nothing apart from the notice dated today.”
    Maistre’s face was covered with fine wrinkles announcing imminent old age, and tiny pink veins ran across his fleshy cheeks.
    â€œWhy are you interested in Steinert?”
    â€œGood question! His wife has asked me to find him.”
    â€œJust like that?”
    â€œJust like that!”
    Maistre burst out laughing. He crossed his arms over his stomach.
    â€œI wouldn’t mind playing at private eye myself.”
    De Palma sighed.
    â€œThere’s something that’s bothering me.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œShe looks like Isabelle.”
    Maistre fell silent. He was thinking, trying to find the right thing to say. The Baron interpreted this silence as a sign of mistrust: his friend had doubts about his mental health.
    â€œWhen will I see you next, Baron?”
    â€œDunno.”
    â€œHow about next weekend? The children haven’t gone on holiday yet. They’d love to see you.”
    â€œI’m fine for this weekend.”
    Maistre stood up, took a C.D. down from the shelf beside him and pretended to read the cover.
    â€œCome to think of it, in fact it’s the boys in Tarascon who are on the case at the moment. At least they’re the ones who put out the alert. But I reckon it will all end up with the
Police Judiciaire
.”
    â€œDo you think Marceau is in the know?”
    â€œI reckon so. He’s always the one who deals with this kind of thing.”
    â€œHow do you get on with him?”
    â€œI haven’t seen him for ages. But things were O.K. the last time I did. We had a good chat: two old-timers going down memory lane.”
    â€œIt’s odd that he should be mixed up in all this as well.”
    Maistre opened his eyes wide and shook his head.
    â€œIt’s a coincidence, Michel. It’s true that Marceau was with us when we got stuck with the Mercier case, but that’s as far as it goes.”
    â€œHe worked very hard on it …”
    â€œWe were three young officers from the same year at the police academy, and we happened to end up on a case that affected all of us. We were marked by Isabelle. Marceau maybe more than we think.”
    â€œYou’re right, Le Gros. I’ll look him up in Tarascon.”
    â€œHe’d like that.”
    The Baron ran his index finger along the line of C.D.s and picked out
The Court of the Crimson King
. He slid it into the player, poured himself a shot of Aberlour and slumped into the armchair.
    â€œYou’re into pop music now?”
    â€œYou made me listen to it on stakeouts, don’t you remember?”
    â€œLike it was yesterday. We used to smoke the evidence as well.”
    Maistre pulled a face and knitted his eyebrows. He scratched the tip of his nose and shrugged.
    â€œI think I’ve found a boat, Baron.”
    â€œFor fishing?”
    â€œAffirmative. It’s a lad from