Essence of Murder Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE CAPTAIN DARAC MYSTERIES

  IMPURE BLOOD: U.S. Library Association’s Pick of the Month

  “Engrossing... An auspicious début” – Publishers Weekly

  “Great plot, appealing hero, glorious setting plus taut writing – a real winner” – Martin Walker, bestselling author of the Bruno Courrèges novels

  “Impressive... will delight fans of international crime” – Booklist

  “A vibrant, satisfying read” – The Crime Review

  FATAL MUSIC: One of Strand Magazine’s Top 25 Books of 2017

  “A thoroughly satisfying novel... Morfoot brilliantly captures the sights, smells and attitudes of southern France as well as giving us an engaging hero”– Mike Ripley, Shots eZine 5 Picks of 2017

  “Pulls you along like an iron bar to a magnet. Crime and mystery readers will consume every last morsel of this book.” – David Cranmer, Criminal Element Magazine

  “Deftly interwoven plot lines… vividly captured Riviera setting… This strikingly well-written crime novel should appeal strongly to many.” – Bruce Crowther, Jazz Journal

  BOX OF BONES:

  “An accomplished piece of crime fiction. Captain Paul Darac... has become, without doubt, my favourite foreign detective created by a Brit since the late Michael Dibdin gave us Aurelio Zen.” – Mike Ripley – Shots eZine, 5 Picks of 2018

  “The plot, filled with enough twists and turns for a corkscrew, is intriguing while never losing touch with either reality or humanity.” – Crime Review

  “Darac leads an engaging and distinctive team of officers, all of whom grow as the reader learns more about them. Not only are the good guys well drawn, but so too are the bad guys and the plot is intriguing and filled with many twists and turns.” – Bruce Crowther, Jazz Journal

  KNOCK ’EM DEAD:

  “Pin sharp...A winner from page one” – Dagger-winning author Jim Kelly

  Peter Morfoot’s policiers featuring jazz-loving Captain Paul Darac of Nice’s Brigade Criminelle comprise one of the best crime series I have discovered in the last ten years. The fourth instalment, Knock ’Em Dead, is published by Galileo, and delivers on all fronts. – Mike Ripley: Shots Magazine.

  Captain Darac Mysteries

  Impure Blood

  Fatal Music

  Box of Bones

  Knock ’Em Dead

  Essence of Murder

  Galileo Publishers

  16 Woodlands Road

  Great Shelford Cambridge

  CB22 5LW UK

  www.galileopublishing.co.uk

  Distributed in the USA by:

  SCB Distributors

  15608 S. New Century Drive

  Gardena, CA 90248-2129

  ISBN 978-1-912916-51-1

  Completed 2021

  First published in the UK 2022

  © 2022 Peter Morfoot

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All rights reserved.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Printed in the UK

  Names, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.

  For David and Andy Scott

  DARAC MYSTERY SERIES BY PETER MORFOOT

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  When I began devising what became the Captain Darac Mystery series, I knew what I didn’t want for my central character. To be authentic, any character needs flaws but I determined Darac would not be a slave to his. I determined he would not always make the right moves in an investigation; nor would he solve cases over a chat in a bar.

  I conceived him as a strong-minded individual but, attesting to the essentially collaborative nature of police work, I needed him to be a whole-hearted team player, also; an interesting dynamic and one that gave me the pleasurable task of creating a permanent cast of supporting players for him. This led to Darac’s genesis as a “poète policier,” a term derived from a resonant assertion by award-winning writer and, to Anglicise his rank, chief superintendent of police, Philippe Pichon: “A poet can be a policeman and a policeman can be a poet.” But which art form for Darac? I felt that jazz with its tension between structure and improvisation would give me the most relevant and interesting possibilities.

  The setting for the series? With its vibrant light, the spectacular Alpe Maritime mountains at its back and that celebrated azure coastline at its feet, Nice is as beautiful as any Mediterranean resort. But it’s also a multi-ethnic city of almost half a million souls. And are there serpents in this particular paradise? Ask Darac, Commissaire Agnès Dantier and the other officers of Nice’s Brigade Criminelle.

  A senior police officer who also plays jazz in a high-quality group, a significant player therefore in two different sorts of team, was someone I was looking forward to getting to putting through his paces on the page. Unlike some of his fictional counterparts, Darac is a character drawn to living not so much on the edge as on the borderline; a man who chooses to position himself at points of junction or collision with the world. And in the five novels of the Darac Mystery series thus far, he has encountered plenty of both.

  February, 2022

  Contents

  LIST OF CHARACTERS

  WEDNESDAY 14th SEPTEMBER

  THURSDAY 15th SEPTEMBER

  FRIDAY, 16th SEPTEMBER

  SATURDAY, 17th SEPTEMBER

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  LIST OF CHARACTERS

  The Brigade Criminelle of Nice

  Agnès Dantier: Commissaire

  Paul Darac: Captain

  Roland Granot: Lieutenant

  Alejo ‘Bonbon’ Busquet: Lieutenant

  Yvonne Flaco: Officer

  Max Perand: Officer

  Francine ‘Frankie’ Lejeune: Captain, Vice Squad.

  Jean-Pierre ‘Armani’ Tardelli: Captain, Narcotics Squad

  Forensics

  Raul ‘R.O.’ Ormans: Senior Forensic Analyst

  Erica Lamarthe: Principal Technician

  Pathology

  Deanna Bianchi: Chief Pathologist

  Carl Barrau: Deputy Chief Pathologist

  Djibril ‘Map’ Mpensa: Pathologist

  Lami Toto: Technician

  Patricia Lebrun: Technician

  Other Officers

  Astrid Pireque: Sketch Artist

  Jean-Jacques ‘Lartou’ Lartigue: Crime Scene Co-ordinator

  Serge Paulin: Beat Officer

  Alain Charvet: Duty Officer

  Wanda Korneliuk: Patrol Car Driver

  Judiciary

  Jules Frènes: Public Prosecutor

  Albert Reboux: Examining Magistrate

  At The Blue Devil Jazz Club

  Eldridge ‘Ridge’ Clay: club owner

  Pascal Malata: doorman

  Khara Oliveira: waitress

  Roger Oliveira: chef

  The Didier Musso Quintet*

  Didier Musso: piano and bandleader

  Maxine Walda: drums

  Luc Gabron: bass

  Paul Darac: guitar

  Dave Blackstock: tenor sax

  Trudi ‘Charlie’ Pachelberg: alto sax

  Jacques Quille: trumpet

  * It is something of a run
ning gag at the club that Didier Musso’s group of high-quality local musicians is always billed as the Didier Musso Quintet irrespective of the number of players on board at any particular time.

  STAFF AND STUDENTS AT VILLA DES PINALES

  Elie Tiron: Administrative Director

  Barbara Artaud: Chief Receptionist

  Bruno Gamblé: Night Desk

  Jean-Claude Costeaux: Head Chef

  Barthélémy Issako: Head Gardener

  Lionel Fournier: General Factotum

  Courses September 14th – 16th

  Depicting The Landscape

  Tutor: Astrid Pireque

  Students: Ralf Bassette, paper manufacturer

  Alan Davies: retired English teacher

  Claudine Bonnet: retired HR manager

  Babette Bonnet: training officer

  et al

  Wine Tasting For Connoisseurs

  Tutor: Mathieu Croix:

  Students: Gérard Urquelle, jewellery firm rep

  Laurent Salins: call centre manager

  Thea Petrova: luxury goods sales manager

  Marcia Calon: retired p.a.

  Jérôme Calon: accountant

  et al

  The Magic of Scent

  Tutor: Zoë Hamada

  Students: Lydia Félix: critical care nurse

  Monique Dufour: boutique owner:

  Cinzia Veri: elderly aristocrat

  et al

  STAFF AT PALAIS MASSÉNA DEPARTMENT STORE

  Albert Cassani: Store Manager

  Nadine Beaumont: Senior Sales Assistant

  Zena Bairault: Trainee Sales Assistant

  André Ricolfi: Security Guard

  Jade Moreau: Spa Assistant

  Madame Triot: Shoe Department Assistant

  WEDNESDAY 14th SEPTEMBER

  4.25 PM

  The stone steps curving up to the rear entrance of the Villa des Pinales may have been faux-Baroque, but for a slender young woman lugging a pull case, a rucksack and a trio of bulging shoulder bags, mounting them was going to pose an entirely authentic challenge. Balancing awkwardly, Astrid Pireque bent to pick up her case, performed a couple of vigorous shoulder hitches and launched herself onward and upward. The bags unhitched themselves immediately, a move that an increasingly thrust-out elbow did little to correct and, by the time she reached the balustraded parvis at the top, all three were hanging from her wrist. All the more determined not to be beaten, she tottered through the entrance doors and, adopting an increasingly compensating lean, made it all the way into Reception before releasing the load. Ta-dah! As if having the last laugh, one of her bags slumped open, disgorging an assortment of paint tubes on to the floor.

  ‘Shit!’ she announced, drawing the attention of a distinguished-looking man checking in at the desk.

  ‘May I help, mademoiselle?’

  Distinguished and gracious. And seemingly not put off by her impromptu impression of a stork with the staggers. ‘No, no.’ Astrid rounded up the escapees. With any luck, she reflected, Distinguished would turn out be one of her students, the type who, increasingly dazzled by her talent as the course progressed, might commission a work from her at its conclusion. And, judging by the quality of his own luggage, pay handsomely for the privilege.

  She straightened, looking past him at an easel-mounted board which showed that alongside her own Depicting The Landscape, Zoë Hamada’s The Magic of Scent and Mathieu Croix’s Wine Tasting For Connoisseurs were the only alternatives. The latter, she suspected, was a strong contender.

  ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but I wonder why, with all your things, you didn’t simply walk in along the level from the car park?’ He indicated the main entrance behind him.

  ‘Oh, a friend dropped me by the south terrace gate. I thought the walk up would do me good.’ She smiled. ‘I was so right.’

  He chuckled. ‘Chapeau. You certainly came well prepared but I understood all art materials were provided?’

  Result! ‘They are, but as I am the tutor, Monsieur..?’

  ‘Bassette – Ralf. Forgive my assumption, Mademoiselle... Pireque, isn’t it? But from your bio...’ He indicated a spinner stuffed with wads of brochures standing next to her. ‘I hadn’t expected you to be so young.’

  And I’ll bet you weren’t expecting the blonde razor-cut and the ballet pumps painted as bare feet, either. ‘Ralf, you’re very kind.’

  ‘Monsieur?’

  The receptionist requiring his attention, Bassette excused himself and Astrid began checking her texts. Nothing from her boyfriend. Nothing from a filmmaker with whom she was working on an installation piece. But there was good news. According to a caller ID she didn’t recognise, she had been involved in a recent accident and was owed a “consideribel” pay-out. Online scammers who couldn’t master a simple spell-checker? Reflecting that they shouldn’t give up their day jobs, Astrid added the number to her blocked list and returned to her inbox. The final text was from the Brigade Criminelle’s Captain Paul Darac. And it was accompanied by a red flag.

  Astrid: Witness J.A. earlier ID’d our blade-wielding friend solely from your sketches.

  Granot and Bonbon say: ‘She shoots, she scores!’ I say: ‘superb work.’ As always.

  Before her role with the Brigade had been created especially for her, Astrid had never dreamt of working for the police or indeed for any organisation. After graduating from the École des Beaux-Arts in Montpellier, she had made her living as a solo artist in a variety of guises and the same was largely true today. But the deep satisfaction she drew from being a player in Darac’s investigative team was something she valued tremendously. And that the team valued her made it all the sweeter. She blew a kiss in the general direction of the Brigade’s HQ, the Caserne Auvare, and continued reading.

  Have a great few days and see you next week. Oh, if you see Zoë, Papa says to tell her: ‘We’ll always have Paris.’ Whether he means the city or the scent, I’m not sure. Kisses, Paul

  She grinned. Paul’s father, Martin Darac, owner of the small perfume house that bore his name, had apprenticed and later mentored Zoë Hamada. Astrid made a mental note to pass on his greeting, and to get the lowdown on the in-joke for Darac fils.

  As Ralf Bassette was still discussing his reservation with the receptionist, Astrid decided to check out the reading matter set out on the spinner. It was a good couple of months since she had emailed Villa administrator Elie Tiron with a request to update her bio and, hoping she hadn’t found the time so Astrid could rib her about it, she extracted a copy of Study at the Villa des Pinales and leafed through it. No luck: the update was in place. Indeed, the entire brochure appeared to have been updated and Astrid spent the next few minutes absorbed in a new version of its opening piece, The Building and its Gardens.

  Squeezed on to a small, wooded plateau atop one of the higher foothills of the lofty Alpes Maritimes that “stood sentinel over the city to the north,” the Villa des Pinales, the writer opined, was both beguiling and deceptive. Grey slate over cream stucco, the steeply pitched roof, corner turrets and pointed conical spires gave the three-storey structure the look of one of the grander French châteaux but in miniature. Its richness lay in its detailing and in the materials used. The Villa’s lobby alone was “while not perhaps a symphony, then certainly an étude in marble, gilding, porphyry and malachite.” Or at least, Astrid read with a grin, “skilfully rendered facsimiles”.

  The history of the place was surprising and “chequered.” Built as a Côte d’Azur hideaway by an ageing American millionaire as recently as the early 1900s, the combination of rich detail and modest scale also characterised the gardens which, by the time the property was acquired by the city of Nice in the 1950s, were so overgrown that the Villa’s sole claim to true grandeur – the view it commanded over the entire city and the fabulous Baie des Anges – was almost completely masked.

 
After a period of refurbishment, the house and gardens reopened as the “Petit Château” but achieved only moderate success as a visitor attraction until a second millionaire, the Franco-German philanthropist Georgina Meier, bought it and, reinstating its original name, repurposed the property as a centre for learning. Depending on student numbers, the Villa could run up to four day-schools and three residential courses at the same time, each “taught by top experts in their field.” And each, Astrid knew, wildly expensive.

  At the desk, Bassette was checked-in, ID-d up and, with his one free drink voucher peeping incongruously out of the breast pocket of his designer-label jacket, he was ready to go. He remained. ‘The introductory class commences at 8.30, Mademoiselle Pireque?’

  ‘Astrid, please. Yes, 8.30 it is. Salle Fernand Léger.’

  ‘Thank you, But first, I will see you at dinner, I hope?’

  A commission. Definitely. Maybe even a portrait. ‘And before that, there are drinks on the west lawn.’ She gave him an amused look. ‘Don’t forget your voucher.’

  ‘Astrid, I’m relying on it,’ he said, smiling with the easy self-deprecation only the well-heeled can pull off. ‘Until later.’

  Astrid inclined her head by way of an adieu and turned to the receptionist, a tight-faced woman with pinned-back auburn hair. ‘Evening, Barbara. How’s it going?’

  ‘Mademoiselle Pireque,’ she said, riffling through a stack of registration cards. ‘I’m well, thank you. And you?’

  ‘Super.’

  ‘Just your signature if you would.’ Barbara handed over a card. ‘We have your usual room. Top floor overlooking the terraces.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  Across the lobby was an open door marked elie tiron, administrative director, clarice lavalle, assistant director. Slipping a sheaf of A4 documents into the wallet she was carrying, a woman in her mid-thirties emerged from the office and glanced with evident concern towards the entrance. Subtly made-up and wearing a charcoal-grey trouser suit, Elie Tiron’s look epitomised confidence, professionalism and sobriety. In her hairstyle, however, sobriety hadn’t so much taken the day off as gone on holiday. A reprise of actor Jean Seberg’s severely short cut from the classic movie À Bout de Souffle, Elie’s version was dyed pink.