Vincent arranged his expression. ‘I can’t discuss the details of your brother’s case with you,’ he said.

‘His case?’

All at once, her mind came into focus. She looked into Vincent’s light brown eyes, then down, at a yellow block of Post-its on the desk. She noticed the wedding ring on the finger of his tanned and folded hands, and the hum of the strip lights.

‘Exactly how did my brother die?’ she asked.

Vincent didn’t blink. ‘We don’t have all the results.’

‘Why are you questioning us?’

‘It’s normal,’ he said.

‘In what way is it normal?’

He shook his head, smiling. Bea thought that she would punch him.

‘Madame Durrant, when did you last see Alex?’ he asked.

Her mouth was dry. ‘On Saturday night, when he left.’

‘What time was that?’

‘What’s going on?’ said Dan.

She didn’t answer, keeping her eyes on Vincent. ‘He left sometime in the night. I spoke to him after dinner, at around half past ten, and then I went to bed.’

‘And your husband?’ He turned to Dan.

‘We all had dinner together,’ said Bea. ‘Then we went to bed.’

‘Where did Alex go?’

‘To Mâcon, I think.’

‘What was he doing in Mâcon?’

‘An errand for my father.’

‘What errand?’

‘I don’t know.’

He put a thin file on top of another file and patted it, as if he had achieved something. He stood up. ‘Thank you very much. That’s all for now. I can’t tell you some things.’ He held out his arm, gesturing them to leave. ‘I’m sure you understand.’

‘No,’ said Bea, I don’t understand.’ She stood her ground. ‘You haven’t helped us at all. Isn’t there an organisation we should be speaking to? Don’t you have Victim Support?’

‘Of course, we have a victim support service in every area of France,’ said Vincent.

‘Well then –’

‘You are not the victim of a crime.’

They left the gendarmerie and Bea called Griff from the car as Dan drove, keeping his eyes on the road, deliberately careful, as he listened.

‘Griff, we’ve just come from the police station,’ she said. ‘They gave us absolutely no information, and no support.’

Dan had worried for her, but she sounded very strong, her usual calmness combined with Adamson power. He hadn’t seen this side of her, he was used to her humility. Even her accent had come up a notch, dropping the everywoman patina she used for work – and, he thought, for the first time, maybe for him. A car honked, and Dan realised he didn’t have his lights on. He was shell-shocked from the day, and gripped the wheel of the unfamiliar Golf, double-checking road signs. Keeping right, he thought, tiredly, turning right, staying right.