By the side of the road there was now no trace of the three bunches of wild thyme.

~

Calvi community police station, on the way into the city, had a unique view over the Mediterranean and the Revellata Peninsula. You might have expected the policemen’s wives to have demanded luxurious apartments with panoramic views, handy for the beach, in return for agreeing to follow their husbands to this dangerous territory.

Clotilde went in on her own, leaving Franck to go on in the car so he could drop Valentine off at Calvi harbour. She would call him to come get her as soon as she was ready. It probably wouldn’t take long – she just needed to report the loss of her papers.

The policeman who dealt with her was young, athletic and clean-shaven from the top of his head to his chin. His office was decorated with the pennants and scarves of different rugby clubs.

Auch. Albi. Castres.

None of them Corsican.

‘Captain Cadenat,’ the officer said, holding out a hand to Clotilde.

After listening to her story, he slid all the relevant identity-theft forms towards her, as if apologising for the enormous amount of paperwork that had to be done. He had an open smile that had nothing of the military about it. More like a young man who had been assigned to the police force rather than doing military service and was happy about it.

Clotilde told him about the circumstances of the theft, the locked safe, the wallet that had disappeared nonetheless, the lack of any sign of a break-in. Above the officer’s casual smile were two butterfly eyes; blue irises and long eyelashes.

The policeman got up and looked out towards the Revellata lighthouse, which was clearly visible from his window. The police captain had the delicate, slender physique of a three-quarter back.

‘Cervone Spinello won’t be happy to see us. As a rule, he likes to sort things out at his campsite himself. But if you want me to investigate …’

Clotilde nodded.

Yes, she did want him to do that. If only to annoy Cervone.

The three-quarter back straightened the pennant of CA Brive that was hanging on the wall.

‘To tell you the truth, Miss, I’ve been in this post for three years now and I’m still having difficulties understanding how things work here. I’m from the south. Name’s Cadenat. Jules Cadenat, my great-grandfather was one of France’s greatest rugby players before the war – he was a lock, in the second row. I’m not complaining about being sent to Calvi, and the great thing is that I’m now quadrilingual – French, English, Occitan and Corsican. It’s a fantastic island. Great people. It’s just that they’re really rubbish at rugby!’

He burst out laughing, then began to check the documents that Clotilde had filled in.

Surname: Baron.

Maiden name: Idrissi.

First name: Clotilde.

Profession: Lawyer. Family law.