Free Irene by Pierre Lemaitre Page A

Buisson clearly had the perfect genetic make-up for the job.
    “Now that the Tremblay case has come up—”
    “News travels fast …” Camille cut him short.
    “Well, I covered the Tremblay case, so obviously I’m interested.”
    Camille looked up. “I don’t like this man,” he thought. And immediately he sensed that the antipathy was mutual, that unwittingly they had developed a low-grade repugnance for each other that neither would ever shake.
    “You’ll get nothing out of me I haven’t told the rest of the press,” Camille snapped. “You want a comment? Ask someone else …”
    “Don’t you mean someone higher up?” Buisson peered down at the
commandant
.
    The two men stared at each other for a moment, astounded by the rift that had suddenly opened up between them.
    “I’m sorry,” Buisson muttered.
    Camille, for his part, felt strangely relieved. Sometimes contempt is a consolation.
    “Listen,” Buisson went on, “I’m really sorry … a slip of the tongue …”
    “I didn’t notice,” Camille interrupted.
    Then he walked off, the journalist trotting after him. The atmosphere between the two men had shifted considerably.
    “You could at least tell me something. What have you come up with so far?”
    “No comment. We’re proceeding with our investigation. For further information, contact Commissaire Le Guen. Or the
procureur
.”
    “Monsieur Verhœven, these cases are getting a lot of press. Editors are itching for a story. I’ll bet you that by the end of the week the tabloids will have come up with plausible suspects and published E-FIT pictures that half the population of France will swear blind is the other half. If you don’t give the papers somethingto work with, they’ll whip up mass hysteria.”
    “If it were down to me,” said Camille curtly, “the press wouldn’t be informed until we make an arrest.”
    “You’d be prepared to gag the press?”
    Camille stopped again. Things had gone beyond point scoring or strategy.
    “I would stop them creating ‘mass hysteria’, or in layman’s terms, publishing bullshit.”
    “So we can expect nothing from the
brigade criminelle
?”
    “On the contrary, you expect us to catch the killer.”
    “So you think you don’t need the press?”
    “For the time being, it means precisely that.”
    “For the time being? That’s pretty jaundiced!”
    “I live in the moment.”
    Buisson seemed to think for a minute.
    “Listen, I think there’s something I can do for you if you want. Off the record, strictly personal.”
    “I’d be surprised.”
    “It’s true. I can get you some P.R. I’ve just taken over writing the weekly Personal Profile, you know, full-page article, big photo, all that crap. I’ve been working on a profile of this other guy … but that can wait. So, if you’re interested …”
    “Give it a rest, Buisson.”
    “I’m serious! You can’t buy this kind of publicity. All I’d need from you is a couple of personal anecdotes. I’d make it a glowing write-up, I swear … and in return, you keep me up to speed on the investigation – you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty.”
    “Like I said, Buisson, give it a rest.”
    “You’re a hard man to do business with, Verhœven …”
    “
Monsieur
Verhœven!”
    “If I might give you a little advice: Don’t take that kind of tone,
Monsieur
Verhœven.”
    “
Commandant
Verhœven!”
    “Fine,” said Buisson in a chilly tone that gave Camille pause. “Have it your way.”
    Buisson turned on his heel and strode off. If Camille sometimes came across as media-friendly, it was patently not down to his tact as a negotiator.

5
    Given his height, Camille preferred to remain standing. And since he didn’t sit down, no-one else felt they were allowed to sit, and every new recruit adopted this implicit code: at the
brigade
, meetings were held standing up.
    The previous evening, Maleval and Armand had spent quite a lot of time trying talking to neighbours to get