Death on the Marais (Inspector Lucas Rocco)
On his first day in the village of Poissons-Les-Marais, the last thing Inspector Lucas Rocco expects to find, in a British military cemetery, is the body of a murdered woman wearing a Gestapo officer’s uniform. When the murdered woman’s body is removed from the police mortuary on the authority of a Paris magistrate, Rocco traces the order back to the dead woman’s father, Philippe Bayer-Berbier, and realizes that Berbier has something to hide.
Following an attempt on one villager’s life and the disappearance of another, Rocco uncovers how each is connected to Berbier, and at the risk of his own life must find out which of them could have been involved with the woman’s murder.
to find Didier in bits around the yard. Instead we found a young wild boar spread all over the bridge, blood and guts everywhere.’ ‘What did Didier say?’ ‘He claimed it must have picked up a grenade he’d been working on. I couldn’t prove otherwise, so had to let it drop. Since then, nobody’s been near the place.’ Clever, thought Rocco. An effective way of Didier ensuring his privacy – unless he was as mad as a snake. As they walked back to the car, Claude waved a hand around at the yard. ‘So
street. Anything else?’ ‘Yes. Can you make sure he stays zipped about it? No written notes.’ There was a long pause. ‘Any particular reason for that?’ ‘I’m not sure. The body’s already been released.’ ‘Jesus, that was quick. How come?’ ‘Somebody had the right paperwork.’ ‘Where from?’ Rocco smiled. Santer was right up there with him. For a body to be released so quickly and with no questions, only the best papers would have sufficed. And those could only come from one source. ‘Paris. I
notices saying FISHING – PRIVATE. The morning sun filtered through the branches of the trees and reflected in patterns off the water, giving the area a shimmering, unreal quality. Rocco felt the Citroën wheels dip each time he strayed off the tarmac, and his gut tilted at the idea that the ground here might swallow him and the car without warning at any moment. He nosed the car into a large clearing with tyre tracks in the surface showing where other vehicles had turned to go back to the road.
he had finished his coffee, she led him out of the house and along the lane to the house next door. Rocco was pleasantly surprised: it was a large, villa-style property set back off the road behind a railed, overgrown garden. Outhouses and a garage stood off to one side, and the rear plot disappeared into the distance, sprouting a vast wilderness of unknown species. ‘Are you a gardener?’ she asked him, handing him the keys. ‘No idea,’ he said frankly, staring at the expanse of rampant territory
had furnished this place had decided that the guests should not go without the basics. ‘You can say that again.’ Claude had opened one of the bedside cabinets. Inside was a selection of porn magazines, tubes of jelly and a basket of sex toys. The last time Rocco had seen such a display was when he helped bust a brothel masquerading as a private gaming club in Clichy. Clearly, guests here did not mind sharing even their closest and most intimate leisure time with their colleagues. Maybe it was