Merle: A French murder mystery (A Jacques Forêt Mystery Book 2) Page 8

  Roger took a deep breath. “You could say that. But I wouldn’t sabotage my own position in that way.”

  “You do know people at C and C Consulting, though?”

  “Yes, my wife works for them. But we both make a point of leaving the work in our respective office space, Jacques.”

  “So, you never discuss the difficulties of the day with each other over dinner and perhaps and, without intending to, give away small pieces of important information?”

  Roger smiled. “I see what you are getting at, but the answer is no.”

  “Do you spend time at events with people from C and C?”

  “Naturally. I can’t avoid my wife’s colleagues in the same way that she can’t avoid mine at such events. It’s the way this business works, Jacques.”

  The silence between them tensed as Jacques scrutinised the face of the man opposite. His square jaw was set rigid, his blue eyes stared out steadily and unblinkingly. There was nothing to read.

  You’d make a damn good professional poker player!

  “And what about your briefcase and laptop? You do take them home with you?”

  “Of course, but if you are going to accuse me of deliberately leaving my papers lying around or my laptop open with an important file on screen, then I can save you the time. My wife and I each have our own office space at home. She works in the smallest bedroom. We converted that space into an office for her six years ago, when she returned to work full-time. I have an office space in the attic. In summer, we occasionally can be found working in the summer house in the garden. Then she usually sits at the table inside and I work on the patio in front. We don’t share our work. If we do work at home, we normally do so in separate rooms.”

  “And it’s never occurred to you or your wife to search through each other’s papers looking for useful information?”

  Roger stared at him. “No,” he said with finality. “We trust each other.”

  Jacques took a different tack. “The finances for both companies as a whole, Roger, are they healthy? I only ask because Alain has led me to believe that finding the source of the leaked information is critical to the continuance of this organisation.”

  Roger sat back and thought for a moment. “We’re covering our costs but I can’t see us making any large bonus payments this year. The cyber-attack last week will cost us a lot to clear as I am sure there will be a suit for reparations and, ultimately, I expect that we will lose that contract as soon as it is financially viable for our client to effect that. Internally, we need to make some efficiencies and we need to cut back on the excessive expenses bill. We’ve already tightened up on payment collection and we’ve reviewed and revised our payments structure. But I can’t retro-fit these new policies to existing contracts, so the impact of that will only be felt in the coming months. But, if the speculation at the last Board meeting proves to be true…the costs arising from the cyber-attack can probably be met. That, of course, assumes that there are no other unforeseen events between now and the end of the current accounting year.”

  “These excessive expenses—”

  The muffled sound of a phone ringing interrupted Jacques. He glanced at the phones on the desk, both of which were silent. Roger glanced at Jacques, a clear flicker of annoyance displayed on his face.

  “I can leave if the call is important…”

  Roger looked across to his jacket hanging from the stand in the corner by the door and shook his head. “It will be my wife. It will go to voicemail.” He waited until the phone fell silent. “You were asking about the expense accounts,” he prompted.

  “Yes. Do you know what the exact problem is?” Jacques quickly jotted a note to remind himself to check all of Roger’s phones on the printouts.

  “The expenses are monitored and paid by our HR team. They manage the Vaux payroll for both companies and the expenses are paid into employees’ bank accounts. It’s company policy and has been for the last three years. However, I’m concerned that we are losing control and I’ve asked HR to look into the matter urgently. I suggest you talk to Michelle. She’s the senior manager and is responsible for the internal payroll and her team administer the expenses system for all employees.”

  ***

  The hunting party from the previous week had left, and Beth was free to roam through the forest and capture shots of the bright autumnal display in the canopies of the deciduous trees. Early that morning there had been a hoar frost, giving the landscape and everything in it a glistening white sheen until the sun had become strong enough to melt it into a damp mist. Returning to the chalet later, she came across Gendarme Clergue as he walked up the D6 towards her.

  “Some good shots, I hope,” shouted Clergue as he reached her gate and waited for her to arrive.

  “Yes. Would you like to come in for a coffee?”

  He nodded his acceptance and followed her up the short path and into the house.

  In the kitchen, she first put the coffee pot on the stove and then took off her coat, hung it over the back of a stool at the breakfast bar, and placed her camera bag on the seat.

  Clergue remained standing and removed his cap. “I’m afraid I have some news that you may find a little upsetting.”

  Beth took a breath and waited.

  “It’s about Fermier Delacroix. I’m very sorry to tell you that he died yesterday. He suffered a massive heart attack in hospital in Mende. Despite the doctor’s best efforts, it proved impossible to revive him.”

  “I see.” Beth sat down for a moment. “I had hoped I had been quick enough to ensure that he could be saved.” She scraped her hand through her hair and sighed.

  “There was nothing more that you could have done, Madame.”

  “But, there will be arrangements to make…and what about his family? Do they know?”

  “He has a nephew in Canada, and we’ve contacted the Canadian police and asked them to ensure that he is informed. There’s nothing for you to do.”

  The coffee signalled it was ready to be poured and Beth shook herself back to reality. “Sorry, umm… Whilst I didn’t know Fermier Delacroix well, it’s still a bit of a shock to hear that someone you know…knew, has died.” To distract herself from the sad news she moved across to the cupboard for the cups and busied herself with the familiar and comforting but simple ritual of preparing and pouring the drinks for herself and her guest.

  “So, that will mean a funeral here in the village, and please sit down, Gendarme Clergue.”

  “It’s Thibault, Madame, now that my official business is concluded.” A wide smile crossed his face as he added two heaped spoons of sugar to his cup.

  “You’d better drop the Madame as well, then!” Beth cradled her cup in both hands to warm them. “It’s a bit raw out there today, Thibault. Is it always like this at this time of year?”

  “Often, yes. Nearer to Christmas we get the very fast winds of the Mistral blowing in from the north west and in January and February we often get snow.” He gulped his coffee. “Are you planning to stay through the winter?”

  “I hadn’t given it that much thought, but I think I would like to be back in the UK for Christmas. To me there is only one place to be at Christmas and that’s home.” She sipped her drink and then placed her cup on the counter. “Delacroix’s funeral? Will the whole village be there, do you think, or will it just be family?”

  “It will be everyone. It would be considered an insult if you did not attend.”

  “I see. But what about Fermier Rouselle. He openly showed his dislike of Delacroix whilst he was alive. Will he be there too?”

  “I would expect so. It will be his last opportunity to acknowledge that their feud over their shared boundary is at an end.” The policeman smiled. “He might arrive late, but he will be there.”

  Beth grinned. “Village politics! I don’t think I will ever understand them.”

  “Perhaps not, but, after the meeting with the Maire last week, I expect there will be lots of changes here in the next
few years.”

  Beth smiled and nodded her agreement.

  “What about you? Will you move here permanently?”

  Beth studied his heavily jawed, but friendly face. “That’s a very big question, Thibault, and it’s something that I’m still giving a lot of serious thought to.” She gazed out of the window for a few moments before replying. “Moving to another country on a permanent basis is a very daunting prospect.”

  He smiled at her. “If it helps you to make up your mind, I and most of the villagers here would welcome you as a resident.”

  “As would Jacques!”

  ***

  The tension across the table at the Drap d’Or as Jacques and Philippe Chauvin, the IT Director at Vaux, decided on their choices from the lunch menu, made the waiter uneasy. He stood, apprehensively looking from one to the other, his pen poised and order pad in hand.

  Jacques rattled off his choices.

  “I’ll have the same,” Philippe said, handing the waiter his menu.

  “I thought I’d made myself very clear, Philippe. So why did you involve Alain?”

  “I don’t agree with what you are doing. I didn’t agree when you first approached me about the extra surveillance camera being added into the network and I still don’t agree.” He toyed with the fork set out in front of him.

  “So, rather than coming to me you went straight to Alain.” He let the implied insult drift between them, but Philippe maintained his stony stare. “Who else knows?”

  The waiter returned with a basket of bread and some wine which he was about to pour when he was waved away by Jacques. “Who else?”

  “No-one.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  “I’m responsible for our IT system, Jacques, and all its surrounding security. I do know how to keep my mouth shut, and I’m very well aware of how to handle sensitive issues.” His raised voice caused a look from the two businessmen at the next table. In the slight lull in the conversation Philippe smiled at the two men who returned their attention to their own meal.

  Jacques nodded and filled their glasses with wine. In the awkward silence, they waited for their entrées and as soon as the waiter had left, Jacques began working through his, now well-rehearsed, questions. By the time the coffee was served, Jacques had yet another member of the Vaux organisation who had the means and the opportunity to effect the transfer of information to a rival company, but who lacked the motive and who consistently maintained his innocence.

  Deciding to trust Chauvin, Jacques changed the subject. “Philippe, I know we didn’t begin on the best of terms today, but I need your help.”

  Chauvin dropped a cube of sugar into his cup. “Go on.”

  “This investigation is turning out to be very complex. But try as I might, I can’t find any clear leads to follow. But what I do know is that all the documentation that has apparently been leaked has been stored on the office network. I don’t understand exactly how the network is constituted nor how it really works. But my instinct is suggesting to me that I might be missing something…”

  “You want my help to understand what we do?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what questions I need you to answer at the moment.”

  Philippe grinned, drained his coffee cup and put it back in the saucer.

  “Only too pleased to help you with that. I’ve got a meeting this afternoon until three, so we can talk after that in my office if that’s convenient.”

  Jacques shook his head. “I’d rather we talked out of the office in this instance. There are too many eyes watching what I’m doing in the Vaux buildings.”

  “I’ll meet you at Bar de la Paix in Badaroux at seven,” he said as he glanced at his watch. “I’ll get the bill, Jacques, and I have to be back for my meeting.”

  Jacques nodded and took his first sip of coffee. The table next to his was now empty and when he looked around the dining room, Philippe was making his way to the bar to pay.

  His coat collar pulled up against the cold drizzle, Jacques returned to his own desk. Admitting to himself that he was no further forward was especially disappointing. Conjuring up what he might say to Alain and Édouard at his meeting with them the next day made him feel ill at ease. There were too many suspects who could have breached security, but as yet, he could not identify a single reason for any one of them to do so.

  Someone knows. Someone’s guilty.

  He let himself into the building and nodded to Luc, the security guard who was on duty at the desk in the lobby. There were other lines of enquiry to follow up and further background checks to be made, and the overheard conversation to check into. Wearily his feet took the stairs one by one and the only glimmer of satisfaction came from the fact that, by the end of their meal he had at least managed to make his peace with Philippe.

  As soon as Aimée had closed the door on the small meeting room, the tears pricked the back of her eyes.

  “I have had it,” she said as she slumped down in the chair opposite Jacques. “I’ve had enough!” A tear trickled down her cheek.

  “Let’s start with that conversation between you and Madeleine this morning. What was that all about?” Jacques pushed his notebook aside deciding to just listen.

  “That? That wasn’t about work; that was all about Madeleine! On Friday, I was very busy drafting the strategy and plan detailing how the internal announcement required for our client would be made. Then Madeleine rang and asked for the updated team cost analysis. It’s something that I do every Friday. The revised costs are filed on the network and are always there by 4pm at the latest. That’s the agreed deadline and she knows that.”

  “And did you remind her of that?”

  “I tried to tell her that it was on my list of things to do that day. But she wouldn’t listen. She just interrupted me with another demand. I started to tell her that I would be picking up that task next. I only had about another hour’s work to complete on the strategy, so the revised costings would have been online before lunch and therefore well before the deadline. But she just would not let me speak. She cut me off and demanded that I do the costings that morning.” Aimée frowned. “It was such a stupid thing to say because those costings are always done on a Friday.”

  Jacques reached for his notebook and pen. “Can you remember exactly what she said?”

  Aimée thought for a moment. “I think she said, ‘I want it done now’ and then she asked me, ‘Is that clear?’ in that really harsh demanding tone of hers.”

  Jacques nodded. “Madeleine demanded a piece of work that she already knew you would complete on Friday by an already agreed deadline and this work was something that was always done on a weekly basis. Have you ever missed that deadline before?”

  “Hmm…only once and that was way back in May.”

  “Was there anything in that conversation on Friday that might have led you to believe that Madeleine wanted you to email the data to her straight away?”

  “No, she never actually asked for that, and when I tried to offer to do that for her she interrupted me again and then the phone went dead. I assumed that she had cut me off.”

  “Did she have her laptop with her?”

  “I think so. She copied me into some emails later that evening, so she must have taken it home. Also, I found about half a dozen emails from her in my in-box the next morning. The Friday morning when she called me. Last Friday.”

  “And the conversation with Hélène just after I left?”

  “That! That was a demonstration of the simpering, trying-to-be-your-friend-but-oh-so-poisonous, Hélène! You don’t have to worry about that, Jacques. I know what she’s doing.”

  “But I don’t, and I would like to know.”

  Aimée sighed. “She offered to take over the work on the costings as I needed help, apparently. I’m looking very tired, it seems.”

  “Did you give her the work to do?”

  “No! Nor would I! The updated costings will be there on Friday, as usual, and I will do
them. Had I agreed to let Hélène do it she would have gone running to Madeleine and told her I can’t cope with my workload.”

  “You don’t know that for certain.”

  “Yes, I do! Because that’s what she did last time. It may have taken me a few months to work out exactly what game she was playing, but I’m not completely stupid, Jacques. I’m not about to let her humiliate and manipulate me like that again.”

  “Last time?” He dumped his pen on top of his notebook and waited.

  Aimée shook her head. “You don’t really want to hear about that, do you?”

  “Aimée, this investigation is about security leaks and so far, all I have are plenty of people with means and opportunity but no apparent reason to want to sabotage their employer’s business. I’m now looking into everyone’s background to see if there is something there that might help me. But I’m also taking a very close look at the personal dynamics between the team members. And…I’m not liking what I’m finding.”

  Jacques watched as her expression moved from irritation to a concerned frown.

  “I see.” She checked her watch and, face a composed blank, looked him in the eye and said, “Last May, the costings were not updated on time because Hélène was sick for the first three days of that week. I picked up a critical piece of work that had been assigned to her but had not yet been started. It was a strategy document that was supposed to have been at the first draft stage by the end of the week. I determined that the strategy document took precedence. That meant the update of the costings would be left until the last minute and done on Friday and, if necessary, estimates would be used if I could not get the precise data. On the Thursday morning of that week, Hélène came in late;, it was about eleven, I think. Anyway, she came in claiming that she still wasn’t well but knew that she had a key piece of work to complete. Despite the urgency of her work, she spent her time in Madeleine’s office and then they both went out to lunch. That afternoon she came to me and told me that the work on the strategy had been re-assigned to her by Madeleine. I’d almost—”

  “And how did you feel about that?” Jacques interrupted her flow and she fell into, what appeared to him, a confused and momentary silence.