the office at two minutes past eleven. His expression is neutral and he greets everyone as he crosses the room but there’s an extra slump to his shoulders that wasn’t there yesterday. At least he’s still here and his gun is still at his hip, so he hasn’t been removed from his function.
For the past hour, Evian has been doing boring paperwork. I’ve been standing over her, reading what I can in case something interesting pops up but so far it’s just been boring administrative stuff.
Clothilde is hanging out with the woman at the next desk over. It’s the grandmotherly lady we’ve met a couple of times before when Evian has been at her desk. I think her name is Geraldine but that’s all I know. She’s a gardien de la paix, a lower grade police officer than both Evian and Doubira. She’s apparently playing solitaire.
“The knight,” Clothilde is yelling straight into the woman’s ear. “The knight on the right! It’s time to move it!” She looks at me in frustration. “She sucks at this game and she can’t hear me.”
“Then find something else to do,” I tell her.
“The knight!”
The scream is so loud it makes Evian twitch in her seat. She glances at the bracelet, scans the office. Shakes her head.
“Sorry I’m late,” Doubira says as he reaches Evian’s desk. “I was…” He waves a hand in the general direction of the interview room we were in this morning.
“I know,” Evian says. “I was in there before you.” She sends a side-eyed glance at Geraldine. “Everything all right? Ready to start the day’s work?”
“She’s listening in again,” Clothilde says, her voice grave. She’s still leaning over the lady playing solitaire, but she doesn’t seem to care about the game anymore. “She’s not even trying right now. The last three clicks have been on empty space.”
Interesting. If I remember correctly, Clothilde had the same kind of suspicion the first time we met the lady.
Doubira runs a hand down his face and scratches the two-day scruff on his chin. “I don’t really understand why—”
Evian stands up abruptly. “I’ve set up a meeting for us at noon. We’re going to have to hurry if we want to be on time. We’ll talk in the car.”
When she walks past her neighbor’s desk, her sharp eyes take in the game of solitaire. “Go with the knight on the right,” she throws out before speed walking across the room and out the door.
“Thank you!” Clothilde yells, fists pumping in victory as we run after Evian to avoid being sucked along when the door closes.
Since Evian left her car at home, they take one of the station’s cruisers. Doubira doesn’t say anything while Evian checks out the car or in the staircase down to the garage.
Evian takes the wheel today. “Sorry about cutting you off,” she says when Doubira closes the passenger door. “I didn’t want to talk in front of that woman. Do you know her? What’s her name?”
“Uh…” Doubira shakes his head as if he’s not quite present but doing his best to get there. “You mean Geraldine? The woman who’s at the desk next to yours?”
“Yes, her. I got the definite feeling she was listening in on our conversation.”
Doubira runs a hand through his short curly hair. “Kind of difficult not to, in an open-plan office like that.”
“Hmm.” Evian doesn’t seem convinced and I’m happy to see it.
Doubira waves a salute at the officer guarding the exit as Evian drives out into traffic. “I don’t really know her that well. She’s just always been there. I think she doesn’t like being out in the field and has become the go-to person for many captains for research that others find boring, but she likes because it keeps her inside the police station.”
Miraculously, the traffic isn’t too heavy today and Evian makes good time as they cross the Canal du Midi then drive along the canal to get to the highway leading out of town. Clothilde and I both sit in the back seat gaping at the changes that have been made to our city in our absence.
“So how’d it go with the Weiss woman?” Evian asks as she settles in at eighty-nine kilometers per hour on the highway. “Was she as agreeable to you as she was to me?”
“They think it’s suspicious I didn’t pull my gun at the café yesterday,” Doubira says as he stares out the passenger window. There are some neat tags on walls around an industrial area, but I don’t think he’s actually seeing them.
“Suspicious?” Evian says. “That’s the word she used?”
“Uh…yes. I think so?”
“Not slow reaction or scared to draw your gun? Suspicious?”
Doubira is staring at her now and I can practically see the thoughts spinning around in his head. “I’m not sure if she used the word suspicious. She probably didn’t. But it’s definitely the feeling I got. Like they were wondering if I just let that guy shoot down an old man.”
“They think you might be siding with the bad guys? Really? But that makes no sense at all.”
Doubira’s voice is low, suddenly. “But them accusing me of not being quick enough would make sense? Me not being competent would make sense?”
“That’s not at all what I meant, Malik.” Evian sighs as she watches a car crawl past us in the fast lane. Nobody ever dares going over the speed limit when overtaking a police car. But it’s also frustrating to stay behind someone who’s just below the limit.
“You sure?”
Another sigh from Evian. “You are competent, no doubt about it. You’re an excellent lieutenant and I would be severely handicapped if they took you away at this point. I’m not even sure I’d get a replacement, I’d have to work the case alone.” She sends a quick glance at her colleague. “But you were slow yesterday. Someone with your training, someone as young and agile as you, should have had the time to at least draw your weapon. But your hands were nowhere near it.”
Doubira keeps his eyes on the road, muscles in his jaw working.
Clothilde leans forward to see his face and frowns when she sees him. “Why is she being so mean to him? Isn’t it enough that he had to suffer through accusations from that Weiss woman this morning?”
“I think the conversation might be necessary,” I say. “She still needs him on this case—and I think he needs to stay on the job and feel useful—but it’s important he recognizes that something’s a little off. He should have at least reached for his gun yesterday.”
We drive in silence for several minutes. Doubira opens and closes his mouth several times. He probably wants to defend himself, comes up with tons of excuses. But he’s self-aware enough not to say any of them out loud.
“I don’t think you’re a danger,” Evian finally says as she pulls off the highway and up to a toll booth. “To me or to yourself. If I did, I would have requested you be put behind a desk until you worked through your issues. I need you on this mission, but I would get rid of you if I thought you were a real risk. All right?”
Doubira gives one jerky nod.
“But I also think you’re not over the incident with Stéphane Petit. You are continuing your psych sessions?”
“Yes. An incident. Is that what you call it when a man dies?”
“It’s what I call it when you do everything by the book and a man who draws a gun on two police officers and a civilian dies because the shock of losing a lot of blood gave him a heart attack. He was old, Malik. Old bodies aren’t made for getting shot at.”
“No bodies are made for that,” Clothilde says casually. She’s sitting with her feet up on the headrest of the front seat. I’d tell her off for putting her feet in Doubira’s hair but, really, who cares. The girl will never again have a physical body, I’m going to let her do as she wants.
Doubira suddenly seems to register his surroundings. “Where are we going? You never said. Isn’t this close to where Clothilde Humbert was buried?”
“We’re going to see the deacon who wasn’t allowed to bury her.”
Doubira cracks the beginnings of a smile. “Nadine came through, did she?”
“She certainly did.”