Tug of War by Barbara Cleverly Read Free Book Online Page B

arranged for that afternoon with the doctor in charge of the case. He obtained further details of the four claimants and the
Inspector’s written permission to interview them at the addresses given if he wished. This was handed over with only the slightest of hesitations. A hesitation which was, however, picked up
at once by Joe. With a slanting glance of complicity he took the sheet Bonnefoye was handing him, folded it negligently, sighed and tucked it away in his file. He made a phantom tick against an
imaginary checklist on the front page of his file and directed his full attention back over the desk again. After a further few minutes of polite sparring, Joe nodded and closed his file, putting
his pen away in his pocket.
    ‘Good. Good,’ he said, smiling. ‘Well, I’m sure I shall be able to supply the help I think you’re seeking.’ He stirred in his seat and raised an eyebrow,
catching Dorcas’s attention. ‘Ready, my dear?’ He turned back to Bonnefoye, halfway out of his seat, hand extended. ‘Oh, before we go, perhaps you could just give me a clue
as to what the position of the French authorities – the Pensions Ministry, shall we say? – might be in this affair should our poor unfortunate prove to be an Englishman?’
    To his surprise, the Inspector put back his head and laughed. ‘I think you know that very well but I will confirm: they will say thank you very much, and post the parcel on to you. Thus
saving the department thousands of francs in a country where resources are short! But a positive identification would be most welcome on other grounds. You will be aware of the overheated interest
of the press?’
    Joe nodded.
    ‘Naturally, everyone from the Senator downwards is under pressure to resolve the problem. And the claimant families are increasingly a force to be reckoned with as they thread their way
through the intricacies of bureaucracy, learning a trick or two as they go. They are showing a determination, a tenacity and a talent for trouble-making which no one could have anticipated. I can
tell you – they’re time-consuming, demanding to the point of aggression and they’re becoming a damned nuisance! They’ve found out about each other’s claims and
competition’s hotting up. Third battle of the Marne about to explode about our ears?’ The Inspector shuddered delicately.
    ‘I hear they’re even taking bets on the outcome back in England,’ said Joe sympathetically.
    The Inspector’s neat black eyebrows signalled mock horror. ‘Not over here to nobble the favourite . . . fix the odds . . . I hope, Sandilands? Seriously, sir, I must emphasize the
folly of becoming too closely involved with any of these individuals.’ He held up a hand to deflect Joe’s instant rebuttal. ‘I do not exaggerate the difficulties. To have survived
with their case intact to this point, they must of necessity be determined characters. You must appreciate that. I speak from personal experience when I tell you that they are involving and,
each in his or her different way, convincing. And they are spreading their net, gaining public support for their own faction. They seem to have tapped into a seam or a mood of national angst
– if I may use a German word – and every Frenchman and woman is passionate to know the outcome. There’s more riding on this than the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe.’
    ‘And, of course, the whole world loves a mystery,’ said Joe.
    ‘True. But the moment it’s discovered that the chap is really François Untel, a deserter from Nulleville, then the brouhaha will die off quickly. Even faster if he proves to
be Joe (I beg your pardon!) Bloggs from London. As you say – it’s the mystery that enthrals. The solution rarely proves to be of equal fascination.’
    ‘Yes. Take your meaning,’ drawled Joe. ‘And what a letdown it would be, were we ever to reveal the identity of Jack the Ripper.’
    Bonnefoye smiled. ‘I am heartened to hear that Scotland Yard