The Dream Killer of Paris by Fabrice Bourland Read Free Book Online

cause a few problems.
    â€˜Good heavens, Superintendent,’ he remarked with some embarrassment towards me, ‘do you not think that this investigation has had enough publicity already?’
    â€˜On the contrary,’ retorted Fourier, unflustered. ‘As the prosecutor’s deputy confirmed, we need all the help we can get to solve this case as soon as possible. What’s more, if, as the Versailles prosecutor’s study believed less than twenty-four hours ago, the only strange thing about this death is the rather unusual circumstances surrounding it, then everything will be sorted out in no time. The Sûreté is going to use its expertise. With the help of our friend here, I wager that the mystery will melt away within two days. If the Préfecture acts with the same efficiency, it will be all to the good.’
    â€˜That is exactly the attitude Monsieur d’Armagnac, the Versailles public prosecutor, asked me to convey, “Everything must be resolved as soon as possible!” I am glad that, on this point, we are all in agreement.’
    Standing on the top step, the prosecutor’s deputy concluded: ‘I’ve just hand-delivered the burial certificate to the Marquise. The funeral can be held this weekend. The Marquise would like the body to be returned to her today but I managed to convince her that, after five days, it was not a good idea. A van from the morgue will therefore take the body to the burial site once the date of the funeral and its location have been fixed. I’m sure that will be a great relief to the family. And now I must leave you, gentlemen. I’m expected in court.’
    Monsieur d’Arnouville marched down the steps towards his carand Judge Breteuil invited us to follow him into the château.
    â€˜I really don’t like the way this investigation is looking,’ he said. ‘You’ll see, it will be one of those cases we never manage to get to the bottom of. And I don’t like this atmosphere of suspicion everywhere either. And I’ve been landed with it just a few weeks before I retire.’
    â€˜Well, we’re here to find the explanation, whatever it is.’
    â€˜Dying in your sleep is allowed,’ continued the judge. ‘It was even considered to be a very good end until last Saturday.’
    â€˜It has long been said that Charles Dickens passed away in his sleep,’ I said as we entered the building. ‘Actually, the celebrated author died of a cerebral haemorrhage.’
    Monsieur Breteuil and the clerk, Bezaine, exchanged baffled looks. Clearly, they had no idea what the British writer had to do with Château B—.
    â€˜But as for the Marquis de Brindillac,’ I continued, ‘don’t forget the look of terror on his face. Although it’s not unheard of to die in one’s sleep, it is a little more unusual to die during a nightmare!’
    â€˜True, very true,’ conceded the judge, rubbing his head.
    We had crossed a large hall and stopped in front of a door where a servant was waiting unobtrusively.
    â€˜The Marquise and her daughter are in the sitting room,’ explained the magistrate. ‘They, and the château’s staff, were interviewed by Monsieur Rouzé and his men during the first days of the investigation. As Monsieur d’Arnouville said, the burial certificate has just been delivered to them. The ladies are very distressed, gentlemen. Let us proceed with tact and sensitivity.’
    We had come to a large stone staircase.
    â€˜Of course,’ Fourier said. Pointing upstairs, he suggested, ‘Why don’t we leave them in peace for the moment and ask Monsieur Rouzé to show us where the Marquis was found? That will shed some valuable light on the matter.’
    The magistrate agreed with this suggestion. He asked the servantto inform the mistress of the house that he and Superintendent Fourier would speak to her in a few minutes’ time