Cervone plunged his right hand into his pocket, gripping the keyring that formed a bulge there. He needed to say something, quickly, something that would seem natural in the eyes of his wife.

‘I’ll go to the police station in Calvi this morning. I’ll ask Captain Cadenat, he’ll tell me more.’

He was in a hurry to leave reception, knowing that Anika was fond of the old German, as she was of all their loyal customers. He didn’t want to put on an act for her, at least not this morning.

He set off down the nearest alley, trying to gather his thoughts. He had managed to win himself some time with the disappearance of the German, along with all that nonsense he had told Clotilde about her brother. But now the noose was tightening, and too many people were getting closer to the truth. Now was not the time for everything to go up in smoke. His Roc e Mare palace was underway, old Cassanu had been taken to hospital in an ambulance – in short, the future looked rosy, he just had to hold on a little longer.

He continued his inspection, stopping by the dustbins: the cats had torn open the bags, scattering greasy bits of paper everywhere, crumbs of polystyrene, crushed milk cartons. The filth! Those beasts were at it every night.

He raised his eyes. Another member of the Euproctes staff was up too, earlier than him: Orsu. The ogre limped along, dragging an endless hosepipe; his task was to water the whole of the campsite grounds between 9 in the evening and 9 in the morning, before the sun could dry up the water poured on to the cracked soil in a split second.

The campsite manager waited for Orsu to come over to him.

‘Damn it, I told you about the cats!’

Orsu looked at his boss without responding, without reacting.

‘Christ, it’s the same every morning.’

Cervone couldn’t shout at the cats, and he had to find someone to blame. He kicked at the debris.

‘Disgusting!’

If he just went on about it, if he got annoyed, he wouldn’t even need to ask, that big fool Orsu was quite capable of setting up his camp bed by the bins and watching them all night. At least it would keep him busy. Orsu loved making himself useful, he loved to obey, he loved being shouted at.

‘We need to get rid of those beasts!’

Don’t ask, merely suggest. Orsu, backward though he was, had grown up on a farm; he must know what to do with those vermin, catch them, strangle them, slit their throats.

‘It’s your job, damn it.’