The Cyclist Read Free

flesh crawl,’ she said.
    ‘Well, I have to work with him. He’s not so bad once you get to know him. He’s quite the Francophile you know.’
    She was silent again. A gloomy atmosphere appeared between them now and Auguste wanted to end it. He read the memo.
    ‘You can go now.’
    ‘There was one more thing, Auguste.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘François Dufy.’
    ‘Not him again? What’s he done now?’
    ‘Claude arrested him.’
    ‘What for this time?’
    She smiled and said, ‘He caught some rabbits. He stood outside the prefecture and was shouting for people to buy them. He was drunk.’
    ‘Well it’s no crime unless he was selling at exorbitant prices.’
    ‘No, he was shouting they were “as fat as Göring”.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘As fat as Göring. Claude arrested him in case the Germans heard him. He’s a fool.’
    ‘Yes, always drunk. What did Claude charge him with?’
    ‘Disturbing the peace.’
    ‘Well at least it wasn’t for sedition. He’d be deported for that.’
    ‘Claude wondered if we could keep him in the cells for a week and then let him out. He’s harmless you know.’
    Édith stood.
    ‘Yes, yes. I hope he learns his lesson.’
    ‘I’m going home now. The keys are on my desk.’
    She opened the door again.
    ‘Édith?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Thank you.’
    She smiled and left. The click of the door as she shut it seemed to echo in his head. Had it not been for Édith, he would have felt an utter loneliness at work. He missed the time when he was a real policeman. A solver of crimes, a true detective. And now? All he did now was persecute people he had known or to whom he had once been close. The townspeople hated him for it. He felt as if he hated himself too at times.
    Without Odette to come home to, he would have left the country long ago. She kept him sane. It was a sanity he needed, for he had begun to feel the world was mad. All sense of proportion had gone, its departure leaving behind an emptiness, a potent emptiness, consuming him, spilling over into everything he saw and did.
     
     

2
    Auguste pulled the door shut behind him. He sighed, as he felt in his pocket out of habit. No cigarettes. He could do with a smoke. He wished Odette was less persuasive and he was still able to smoke, but she insisted. He pictured the packet of Gitanes in his hand and the light tap, tap as he knocked the tiny fragments of tobacco from the tip. He reached the stairs and in his mind he was lighting the cigarette as he stepped down.
    His thoughts were interrupted by the telephone in his office. Damn, he thought. Should he leave it? The sound was insistent; intrusive. It might be important.
    He relented then and reentered his office crossing the floor-space fast.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Auguste.’
    ‘Major Brunner.’
     ‘I have bad news, my friend.’
    ‘News?’
    ‘Someone shot Meyer, right in front of our offices, from the shoe shop.’
    ‘Yes, I know. My men are out searching the streets, making enquiries.’
    ‘Shot in the face. What do you think?’
    ‘Terrible.’
    ‘I’m afraid there will have to be consequences. I have requested assistance from the Wehrmacht. They are sending troops and will be active north of the town. I expect the killer to be found, you hear?’
    ‘I am doing everything I can. You said the shoe shop?’
    ‘Yes, the murderer must have been there for days. He was a professional; it would have been a difficult shot even for a German soldier. The owner unfortunately was shot trying to escape or we would know more. Looks as if the killer escaped over the roof and ran or cycled away. No one saw a car.’
    ‘That much, my men know already. There is nothing we can do now. In the morning…’
    ‘We need to talk anyway. I will send a car tomorrow. You know poor Meyer had a wife and two daughters?’
    ‘No, I didn’t know him well. He and I never got on.’
    ‘I have had a very distressing phone-call. She became hysterical.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘He was a very valued