Russ was all performance, busying himself with his phone and the Bluetooth. It struck Bea that he was just the sort of person Alex would have liked. He could never see what was clear to her, that only very damaged people could perform like that. He looked up, and directly into her eyes, as if he were reading her mind.

‘I am going to leave. I understand you’re closing the place up and everything. And it’s a bad time. I totally get it.’

Bea nodded.

‘So let’s have one more drink, OK?’ he grinned. ‘I have this band I recorded on my phone, when I was in Marseille? They’re so cool, I mean it. They’re from the south – not like the south of the States, the south of Europe – seriously, someplace like Albania or something, and they have kind of like a gypsy sound, but more like gypsy meets Hendrix meets like a nineties House vibe. Alex loved them.’

It was dizzying, impossible, to hear Alex’s name.

‘I really wanted to play it for him, because he saw them in Paris last year? And he was pissed I was going to see them, they don’t have any quality live recordings. They’re called Les Nine Idiots, or Neuf Diables, or some shit like that, and I swear Alex is going to –’ He tripped over Alex’s death like a body, then continued, more subdued. ‘I swear Alex would have loved it.’ He held up his phone and the speaker. ‘I have it right here. Les Neuf Cercles, recorded live, man, gold dust. D’you have someplace I can plug this in? It’s out of juice.’

‘Sure,’ said Dan. ‘In here.’

He turned his back, and Russ followed him into the sitting room. Their voices shrank away, then Gypsy-Hendrix-House blasted out.

‘Hey, Beatrice!’ shouted Russ.

Her hands were shaking. She found the gendarmerie number. She looked back towards the front door. Their car keys were on the reception desk. The phone was answered immediately, and she asked for anyone on Vincent’s team.

‘Try again tomorrow,’ said a voice, bored and faraway.

‘Please ask somebody from the SR to call me, it’s urgent,’ she said.

‘If it’s an emergency, call 112 or 17.’

She hung up and went back outside. Dan and Russ were sitting again. The music screaming from the overloaded speaker on the sideboard.

‘Scare those snakes away, Bea,’ said Dan, drinking whisky with Russ.

She couldn’t gauge him. They were being separated.

‘What snakes?’ said Russ. ‘There are snakes?’

She sat down, tucking her skirt under her thighs.

‘Snakes?’ he said. He leaned forward and his scalp reflected the light, his eyes creased in the glare. ‘So tell me.’

She had to raise her voice over the music.

‘There are snakes here.’

‘Bea woke up with one next to her, on a sunbed,’ said Dan.

She looked at him quickly, trying to catch his eye.