Free The Circle by Bernard Minier

into his lungs. Servaz noticed that he didn’t inhale, but he definitely seemed to feel better afterwards. Hugo observed him in silence. Outside, the rain drummed noisily on a row of dustbins.
    They were alone – as was always the case, once it became clear that one member of a team of investigators had a better rapport with the detainee than the others did. It didn’t matter whether it was the leader of the team or a subordinate: the main thing was to get the detainee talking.
    â€˜Would you like another coffee?’
    â€˜No, thank you.’
    â€˜Something to drink? Another cigarette?’
    The young man shook his head.
    â€˜I had stopped smoking,’ he said.
    â€˜How long ago?’
    â€˜Eight months ago.’
    â€˜You don’t mind if we go on?’
    He gave Servaz a worried look.
    â€˜I thought we had finished.’
    â€˜Not quite. There are a few things to clear up,’ said Servaz, opening his notepad. ‘Would you like to postpone it until later?’
    Once again, Hugo shook his head.
    â€˜No, no. It’s fine.’
    â€˜Good. Another hour or two and you’ll be able to get some sleep.’
    â€˜Where?’ Hugo asked, his eyes widening. ‘In prison?’
    â€˜In a custody cell for the moment. But we’re going to have to take you back to Toulouse. From now on the investigation will be under the jurisdiction of the regional police force.’
    He saw the boy’s expression wilt.
    â€˜I’d like to call my mother—’
    â€˜We’re not obliged to let you. But you’ll be able to call her as soon as we’ve finished, all right?’
    The young man leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his neck. He stretched his long legs under the table.
    â€˜Try to remember if anything seemed strange to you that evening.’
    â€˜Such as?’
    â€˜I don’t know, anything … a detail … Something that might have made you feel uneasy, for example. Something that wasn’t where it belonged. Just tell me everything that goes through your head.’
    Hugo shrugged. ‘I really can’t think of anything.’
    â€˜Make an effort, it’s your hide that’s at stake.’
    Servaz had raised his voice. Hugo looked at him, surprised. Outside, the thunder rumbled once again.
    â€˜The music …’
    Servaz looked at him closely.
    â€˜What music?’
    â€˜I know it seems ridiculous, but you asked me to—’
    â€˜I know what I asked you. Well? What music?’
    â€˜When I regained consciousness, there was music coming from the stereo.’
    â€˜That’s it? What was so unusual about that?’
    â€˜Well …’ Hugo was thinking. ‘Claire did use to put music on when I was there, but … never that kind of music.’
    â€˜What kind of music was it?’
    â€˜Classical.’
    Servaz looked at him. Classical … He felt a tremor go down his spine.
    â€˜She didn’t generally listen to classical music?’
    Hugo shook his head.
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Not to my knowledge … She put on jazz, or else rock. Even hip-hop. But I don’t remember ever hearing classical music at her house until that evening. I remember that at the time, when I woke up, it immediately seemed …
weird.
This sinister music coming from downstairs, the house wide open and no one answering my calls. It really wasn’t the sort of thing she’d do.’
    Servaz began to feel a gnawing anxiety welling up inside. Something vague, diffuse.
    â€˜Nothing else?’
    â€˜No.’
    Classical music
… He had an idea but he banished it; it seemed too far-fetched.
    When he went back to Claire Diemar’s house, he found everything still in upheaval. Now the street was cluttered with vehicles, and the media had joined in the fray as well, despite the late hour – or early, depending on your point of view – with their microphones, cameras and