The driver of the cop car killed the ignition. The front passenger door opened and Antoine Bonnet stepped out. Bonnet opened the rear door, and held it, like a valet parking attendant. It took a while, but eventually a passenger emerged from the rear seat. It was Mayor Marbot. Which explained the delay; he’d been squeezed in back there and had taken some time to shift his bulk around.

I said, “Your partner Bonnet, tight with the mayor.”

“Antoine. The mayor moved him to interim chief, now that Rigalle’s dead.”

“Is he the most qualified, in the hierarchy?”

“Maybe the mayor wanted someone he could trust, given the uncertainty. They already know each other, so Bonnet’s a known quantity, given the urgency.”

“Maybe.”

Bonnet was walking alongside the mayor. They were speaking, a serious conversation. Calm and detached, but serious. Bonnet did most of the listening, Mayor Marbot did most of the talking. Terse, quick sentences. The BRI guys were waiting for them. Bonnet saw us, probably recognized Nazari’s car. He motioned to the BRI guys and the mayor, a hand signal that said, ‘hold on a second’. Then he jogged smoothly across the street.

I said, “He moves pretty well for his age.”

Nazari was watching him with me. “Antoine’s a serious tennis player.”

Bonnet reached the car and Nazari rolled down the window. He bent down and looked at me, then looked back at her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. You?”

“I’m okay.” Bonnet spoke across Nazari to me, sitting in the passenger seat. “Keeler.”

“Sorry about your loss.”

“Thanks.” He looked back at Nazari, “I’ve got a lot to do now.”

She said, “I know, go and do it. Find those bastards.”

“We’re going to find them, no doubt.” He looked over at me again. “You take care of her.”

“I doubt she needs help.”

“Probably not, but just the same.”

“No problem.”

Bonnet nodded and jogged back across the street. He rejoined the little power group of cops and the mayor. Then, all together, they walked into the police station. The automatic doors opened and sucked them in. A minute and a half later the light went on in the second floor squad room window.

I said, “So the BRI guys just come and help themselves to the second floor squad room.”

Nazari was organizing her hair. “That’s right. Because it’s a small station we keep space open for outside investigators.” She pulled her seat belt on and clicked it in. Reached into her pocket for the car key. “I don’t know if you’re aware of the police structure in France.”

“Not very.”

“Municipal Police are the lowest form of cop. In most towns Municipal cops don’t carry guns. It’s entirely up to the mayor if we’re armed or not. Our mayor said we should be, so we are.”

“Ever use it?”

“The service weapon? Only at the range.”