The Patriarch: A Bruno, Chief of Police Novel by Martin Walker Read Free Book Online Page A

took the ashtray and emptied it into the yellow rubbish bag. He thanked her and returned to the bedroom. The handsome wooden armoire was almost filled with neatly hung clothes, and the shelves down one side contained folded shirts from Chauvet and sweaters from Lacoste. He checked the pockets and then turned back the jackets to see where Gilbert bought his suits. The labels said LONDON , but the names meant nothing to him. In the dressing table, Bruno found drawers in which socks and underwear had been neatly rolled and carefully arranged, something Bruno had never seen a man do before.
    He found no papers or notebooks in the pockets, and the suitcase atop the armoire was empty. Gilbert’s shoes looked expensive, with beautiful rich leather; Bruno guessed they had been handmade. There were four pairs, two of classic black dress shoes with toe caps and laces, and two of brown brogues. They were neatly aligned on the floor of the armoire, each shoe with its own wooden stretcher inside. To one side of the armoire stood a pair of Wellington boots, and the only casual clothes he found were a Barbour jacket hanging in the armoire and a pair of corduroy trousers on the same hanger.
    In the bathroom, a military toiletry bag stood on a glass shelf alongside folded towels. Above the sink a razor, shaving brush, toothbrush and toothpaste and a pair of silver-backed hairbrushes were lined up precisely, as if on parade. There was no cologne, and the soap seemed to be a standard white Savon de Marseille. The sink, shower and toilet bowl all gleamed as if freshly scrubbed. Even the underside of the seat had been cleaned. This was unlike the home of any drunk Bruno had ever known. Maybe they instilled a stricter discipline in the air force; he doubted it. Automatically, Bruno plucked some hairs from one of the brushes and put them in an evidence bag.
    There was something odd here, but he couldn’t say quite what it was. Dr. Gelletreau had signed off on the certificate for accidental death with unusual speed. He was the family’s doctor, after all, so he must have known the background. The mayor had made it clear he wanted the matter wrapped up—Bruno recalled the exact words—with efficiency and discretion. That was understandable; nobody would want the Patriarch’s big day to be overshadowed by death. But Chantal had not been sure Gilbert was drunk when he tried to haul her away. Bruno himself had instantly assumed that Gilbert was drunk when looking at him from the balcony. But there had been something odd about his movements, the way he set his feet, the cock of his head as he pulled Chantal toward him, that now had Bruno wondering.
    Then Bruno pondered something else that had surprised him. He’d never known such a tidy drunk as Gilbert appeared to have been, nor any human being with so empty a paper trail. Usually there were notes, letters, bills and address books, all the litter of modern life. These weren’t alarm bells, just some faint tinklings that triggered curiosity rather than suspicion.
    “Nothing of interest in there, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, stepping out into the main room and heading for the door that led to the porch. He paused, turned to Victor and Madeleine and asked, “Either of you heard of a place called Vaduz?”
    “It’s the capital of Liechtenstein, a small principality on the Swiss-Austrian border that used to be known as the false-teeth capital of the world, when they were made from porcelain,” said Victor.
    Bruno gazed at him, astonished. “How on earth do you know that?”
    “From playing Trivial Pursuit with the children.”
    “It sounds like a useful game, maybe I should take it up,” Bruno said with a smile. “Thanks for your help, and again, I’m sorry for the loss of your friend. I’ll see myself out.”
    “I’ll phone you at the
mairie,
about that lunch we discussed with Marco and the countess,” Madeleine called after him.

6
    Bruno went home to change out of uniform