‘To my knowledge, Monsieur Romani did not mention having a lawyer of any kind.’

Shall we see about that? Let’s up the stakes.

Orsu was still frozen in his usual inexpressive state, but Clotilde took advantage of a vague movement of his hand to claim her victory.

‘Well, I am. Two points, gentlemen, two important points. The first is that Monsieur Orsu Romani, henceforth my client, also happens to be my half-brother. The second, which is quite obvious, is that my client is innocent.’

The two points left a silence.

It was a lot to take in all at once.

The name of Idrissi, for one thing. The two inspectors had the ideal suspect – a mentally disabled person with a criminal record, overwhelming circumstantial evidence, no one was going to defend an almost mute outsider – and now, from up his sleeve, he produced a lawyer, a lawyer whose name announced her status: a lawyer who was also a blood relative!

Clotilde mightn’t have won the game, but she did know the law. For any infringement of the criminal law the lawyer was not obliged to be present at the first interrogation: the preliminary hearing had only to keep her informed about the case. The lawyer could speak to the accused only after questioning, for a maximum period of thirty minutes. In the face of these two poker-players she had no option but to bluff.

‘I expect you’ve had time for an initial interrogation of my client? I would like to be able to talk to him on his own.’

‘We hadn’t finished,’ said the younger of the two men, the one with a small goatee.

Translation: the dumbass hasn’t said a word in an hour of grilling.

‘My client will talk to you. My client will talk to you after I have had a conversation with him.’

Apart from the way his eyes were fixed on Clotilde, Orsu showed no sign of compliance.

The two policemen glanced at one another.

The name of Idrissi forced them to play a cautious game, they were aware of treading on dangerous ground. The suspect seemed perfectly capable of withstanding forty-eight hours in custody, even seventy-two, without opening his mouth, even if he needed to pee. What did they have to lose by letting this lawyer, who had just fallen from the sky, try to help out?

‘Thirty minutes, no more,’ said the policeman with the spectacles.

They left.

They left Clotilde and her half-brother alone together.

Or not entirely. Orsu had another friend, an ant that was strolling along the table in front of him. His sole fixation seemed to be to put his finger in the right place so that the insect would agree to climb it. Clotilde was expecting a monologue, although she wasn’t used to it. Normally, in divorce cases, her female clients tended to be loquacious about the wrongs committed by the partners from whom they wanted to separate.