The Circle by Bernard Minier Read Free Book Online

somewhere far from the room.
    â€˜Very.’
    â€˜As much as that?’
    â€˜You saw her, didn’t you? Unless … Don’t tell me that she … that she …’
    â€˜Let’s just say that she wasn’t looking her best.’
    The old man’s gaze clouded over.
    â€˜Oh, Lord … Here we are joking and drinking, with what just happened right over the road …’
    â€˜Did you watch her?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Over the wall, when she was in her garden, did you watch her?’
    â€˜What are you getting at, for goodness’ sake?’
    â€˜She sunbathed: that was obvious from her tan lines. She must have walked around her garden. Stretched out on the deckchair. Gone swimming, I would imagine. A beautiful woman … There must have been times when you noticed her without meaning to, as you walked by your window.’
    â€˜Rubbish! Don’t beat about the bush, Commandant. You want to know if I was a bit of a voyeur?’
    Oliver Winshaw was not at a loss for words. He shrugged.
    â€˜Then let me tell you: Yes, I did occasionally watch her. And so what? She had one hell of an arse, if that’s what you want to hear. And she knew it.’
    â€˜In what way?’
    â€˜That girl wasn’t born yesterday, Commandant, believe me.’
    â€˜Did she have visitors?’
    â€˜Yes. A few.’
    â€˜People you knew?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜None of them?’
    â€˜No. She didn’t associate with the locals. But I had already seen that boy.’
    The old man looked Servaz straight in the eyes, clearly enjoying the interest he aroused in the policeman.
    â€˜You mean that he had already come to see her?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜When?’
    â€˜A week ago. I saw them together in the garden. They were talking.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜I’m not senile, Commandant.’
    â€˜And any other times? Were there other occasions?’
    â€˜Yes, I had already seen him before.’
    â€˜How many times?’
    â€˜I would say at least a dozen. Not to mention the times I must have missed him. I’m not always at my window.’
    Servaz was convinced that wasn’t true.
    â€˜Were they always out in the garden?’
    â€˜I don’t know … I don’t think so, no … Once or twice, he must have rung the bell and they stayed inside. But don’t go thinking I’m insinuating anything.’
    â€˜How did they behave towards each other? Did they seem to be … intimate?’
    â€˜Like lovers, you mean? No … maybe … Honestly, I really don’t know. If you’re looking for juicy details, you’ll have to ask someone else.’
    â€˜Had it been going on for long?’
    The old man shrugged.
    â€˜Did you know that he was one of her students?’
    This time there was a spark in the old man’s eye.
    â€˜No, I didn’t know that.’
    He took a swallow of his whisky.
    â€˜And doesn’t that seem odd, a student who visits his teacher when she is at home alone? A teacher who is that beautiful?’
    â€˜It’s not for me to judge.’
    â€˜Do you talk with your neighbours, Mr Winshaw? Were there any rumours about her?’
    â€˜
Rumours
? In a town like Marsac? What do you think? I hardly speak with the neighbours: that’s Christine’s job. She’s much more sociable than I am, if you see what I mean. You’ll have to ask her that.’
    â€˜Had you ever been inside her house, you and your wife?’
    â€˜Yes. When she moved in, we invited her for coffee. She returned the invitation, but only once, probably out of politeness.’
    â€˜Do you recall whether she collected dolls?’
    â€˜Yes. My wife used to be a psychologist. I remember very well that when we came home, she voiced a theory about the dolls.’
    â€˜What sort of theory?’
    Winshaw told him.
    At least the riddle about the origin of the dolls