Part 21 (1/2)

Evan didn't know how to answer that one. He thought it was all too possible that a jury wouldn't believe Janine's far-fetched tale. In fact, every instance pointed to her guilt-hiding out at a friend's restaurant so that n.o.body knew she was there, that restaurant burning to the ground with its owner inside, and now the owner's husband lying stabbed with Janine's own kitchen knife. It was all too possible that the thumbprint on the knife was the victim's own as he tried to grab it away from her, or pull it from his chest. People had been hanged in the past on less evidence when there was still a death penalty.

”We have to help her, Evan,” Bronwen said. ”She's already had enough rotten luck.”

Evan looked at Bronwen. Her eyes were pleading.

”I'll come with you down to headquarters, Janine,” he said. ”We'll see what we can do.” Then he picked up the phone to call the squad car.

Chapter 22.

Evan hesitated in the vinyl-tiled hallway and stood staring at the door he had just closed behind him. Usually there was satisfaction in bringing a case to a close, and a criminal to justice. Never had he felt more ambivalent than now. He wanted to believe that Janine Laroque was innocent, but reason told him that she had to be guilty. Unfortunately he was sure that D.I. Hughes would come to the same conclusion-and so would a jury. There was little hope of Janine getting off, unless he could prove that someone else committed the murder.

He sighed. He had done his job and delivered the suspect to the proper authorities. Now he could go home and catch up on some well-earned sleep. He had to learn not to become so emotionally involved with his cases, he told himself. A good policeman stayed detached.

A door opened down the hall and Evan realized, a second too late, that he should not have dawdled.

”Evans, is that you?” Potter's voice echoed. ”Where is he, then?”

”I-I had . . . I mean something else came up.” Evan was caught off guard.

”Something else came up? I gave you an order, sonny. It was up to you to obey it.”

”Look, I'm sorry.” Evan felt the color rise in his cheeks. ”But when I say something else, I mean something more important. I found the Frenchwoman who's the murder suspect everyone's been looking for. I've just brought her in. She's with Sergeant Watkins, waiting for the D.I. to get back.”

”And you got yourself a nice pat on the back for that, did you? Well, I've got a case to solve as well and I want that kid brought in here. Now do you think you can find him, or do I have to send squad cars out for him?”

”Oh, I found him all right,” Evan said. ”In fact he was the one who told me where Madame Yvette was hiding out. I had a long talk with him, and I think you're making a mistake, Sarge. I don't think he set those fires.”

Potter's face was a mask of stone. ”Oh, and what makes you the expert suddenly?”

”For one thing he hero-wors.h.i.+ps a young fireman and he wants to be a fireman too when he grows up. For another he claims he has an alibi for the cottage burning. Another kid saw him climbing down the drainpipe after the fire had already started and they ran up to the fire together. That will be easy enough to check.”

”Kids? They'll say anything not to snitch on each other, won't they?”

Evan wondered if Sergeant Potter had any children of his own. If so, he was sorry for them.

”So you still want me to bring him in?” Evan asked.

”Of course I b.l.o.o.d.y want you to bring him in. If it's not too much to ask, that is?”

”Right. I'll go and get him now,” Evan said. ”Please tell Sergeant Watkins where I am, in case he needs me for anything.”

He turned and strode to the front door, his feet making a satisfying clatter on the bare floor before he slammed the door behind him.

This is what happens when you're a village constable, he told himself as he drove, somewhat too fast, back through Llanberis and up the pa.s.s. You get walked all over. People order you around. He allowed his mind to drift into a fantasy in which he went back to detective training and did so well that he jumped through the ranks to inspector in a few months. Then he pictured himself walking in and telling Peter Potter exactly what he thought of him. It was a childish daydream and he was already smiling at himself by the time he reached Llanfair.

n.o.body came to the door when Evan knocked at Terry's cottage. He drove up and down the village street, then parked his car and checked out all the likely places-the sports field, the school playground, the sweets counter at the village shop. n.o.body he asked had seen Terry Jenkins. So the boy was in hiding. Evan couldn't say he blamed him. He'd probably have done the same thing at Terry's age. Oh well, give him time. He'd show up when he was hungry.

Around five-thirty he checked the Jenkinses' cottage again. Terry's mother had just got home and had frozen lasagna on the table, ready for a microwaved supper.

”I don't know where he is, Constable Evans,” she said apologetically. ”You know Terry. He's never home if it's daylight and not raining. He could be anywhere on that bike of his. I worry that some day he's going to get run over, but he seems able to take care of himself. There's not much I can do, is there?”

”You could try setting some rules,” Evan said and wished instantly that he hadn't.

A defensive look spread across her face. ”What, and have him hate me as much as he does his father? I'm trying to make up for his dad, Mr. Evans, and that's not easy.”

”I'm sure it's not,” Evan agreed. ”Let me know when he gets home, will you?”

He went back to the police station and phoned HQ. Glynis answered. It seemed as if she was turning into the maid of all work down there.

”You want me to tell Sergeant Potter that you can't find the boy and you'll bring him in as soon as you do. Okay. I'll probably get my head bitten off, but I'll do it for you.” She paused then went on in a lower voice, ”It's a shame you left when you did. You weren't here for the excitement.”

”Why, what happened?”

”We got a match on that thumbprint.”

”The one on the knife?”

”That's right.”

”Incredible. Whose was it?”

”n.o.body you'd know. A drug dealer.”

”A drug dealer-so there was a drug connection after all. Janine might have been telling the truth that she had nothing to do with it.”

”Possibly. Although I suppose she could be in it as deeply as anyone. You have to admit her restaurant would make an ideal distribution point for drugs that were coming in from around the coast here. I shouldn't be surprised if we don't find out that she was set up here for that very purpose.”

”I suppose so.” Evan didn't want to believe it but it was hard not to. ”So how did you manage to match the prints? That was rather clever of you.”

She laughed. ”I found the match by sheer accident, actually. Scotland Yard sent us everything they'd got on the traffickers they suspect are behind the s.h.i.+pments. It's a multinational gang, mainly Algerian and French, with connections in Europe and North Africa. They sent us several sets of prints. Just out of curiosity I ran a computer match on them and I nearly died when one of them matched our thumbprint.”

”What's his name?”

Glynis chuckled. ”He's got a string of aliases as long as your arm but he likes to be called, get this, Le Tigre-the Tiger!”

”Sounds like something out of a bad film,” Evan said. ”Congratulations. That kind of thing will definitely get you noticed around here.”

”Thanks. As I say, it was pure luck, just fooling around to see what the system can do, actually.”

”Has the D.I. been told yet?”

”Yes. He came in only a few minutes ago. He's quite excited-well, as excited as a someone like him can get.”

”Is he in with Madame Yvette-I mean Janine-now?”