‘They want to take you in theirs.’

‘Why?’ said Dan quickly.

The policemen waited, handcuffs dangling from their belts.

‘We can ask questions later,’ said Roche.

Bea and Dan got into the police car as the SUV with her parents and the lawyers drove away. One of them said something to her.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said, could you put your seat belt on?’

Red-faced, she fumbled with it. Dan had already fastened his, subjugated, and betraying nothing.

‘Off we go,’ said one of the gendarmes cheerily, as if they were off for a trip on a scenic railway. He switched on the car radio and tinny Europop accompanied them out, and onto the road.

14

14

Being in a room with a gun was disturbing. More so because the gun was in a shoulder holster slung casually on the back of a chair. Bea could see the textured butt poking out, drawing her attention, as if it had a power of its own. It was close enough for her to reach out and touch it if she wanted, because the room was small. Dan was in the cubicle next door. The last she’d seen of him was with his eyebrows raised at her, questioning, as having been to the gendarmerie they were politely separated.

The two detectives had introduced themselves as investigating officers Major Matheo Dufour and Adjutant Nino Luis. It was Nino Luis’s gun. He was on the chair with the holster hanging behind him. He was unshaven, in a T-shirt and hoody. She could imagine him in Nice or Marseilles, cornering immigrants on the night-time docks. Dufour was tall and fair, with a wedding ring and white trainers. Beyond the thin partition she could hear blurred sounds of printers and phones ringing, voices.

‘OK, what else?’ said Dufour, as if they had been talking earlier. ‘Alex. Was he OK?’

‘He was – all right,’ she said. ‘He was lonely.’

The curiosity and interest of the detectives was like a distorted copy of her own job. She told them about Alex’s drinking, but that he’d said he wasn’t using drugs – and she believed him. She told them how playful he had been, and about the snake traps up in the roof. There was a knock on the partition, and Dufour leaned out to talk to someone. Luis looked up from his pad, and Bea smiled politely. He smiled back, but then kept his eyes on her. He didn’t look away. She couldn’t work out if it was a sexual thing or to gain power, then thought they were the same. Uncomfortable, enduring, she wondered if the British police did the same thing to women, and knew immediately they must. Luis stared at her unselfconsciously, with his legs apart and his gun hanging by his bare arm. Dufour finished his conversation and sat down again. Luis went back to his pad.

‘Was your brother homosexual?’ said Dufour.

‘What?’ said Bea. ‘Why?’