Free Wash This Blood Clean From My Hand by Fred Vargas

Probably the judge thought that finding a brand new weapon in the possession of a youngster might seem suspicious, and the trick would be discovered. So he chose an old screwdriver, longer than the prongs on the trident, and mutilated the wounds with that.’
    ‘I suppose that makes sense,’ Danglard said.
    ‘It makes sense, because it fits together like a jigsaw. Same man, same implement. Because I checked, Danglard. When the judge moved out, I went and searched the Manor. Most of the garden tools were still in the barn, but not the fork. He’d taken his precious instrument with him.’
    ‘But if all this is so obvious, why on earth wasn’t he found out before this? You said you were after him for fourteen years?’
    ‘For four reasons, Danglard. First of all, forgive me, but everyone reasoned exactly the same way you’re doing, and stopped right there. The weapons were different and so were the wounds, so there was no connection between these murders. Secondly, the geographical regions of each inquiry were quite far from each other, and as you know, communicationbetween different police forces isn’t all it might be. And next, because every time, there was an ideal suspect ready on hand, with the evidence sitting right beside him. Finally, don’t forget that the judge was powerful and virtually untouchable.’
    ‘OK, but when you put this dossier together, why weren’t you listened to?’
    Adamsberg gave a wry smile.
    ‘Because I had zero credibility. Every magistrate on these cases knew I had a personal axe to grind, and they thought my accusations were obsessive and subjective. They all thought that I would have dreamed up any scenario to clear Raphaël’s name. And you think that too, don’t you, Danglard? And what was more, my whole hypothesis implicated this powerful man. I was never allowed to get anywhere. “Adamsberg, just get it into your head that it was your brother that killed that girl. His disappearance proves it, if nothing else.” Then I would be threatened with a libel suit.’
    ‘Right, so you were blocked,’ Danglard summed up.
    ‘What about you, capitaine , are you convinced? Do you understand that the judge had already killed five other victims before he attacked Lise, and two more afterwards. Eight murders, stretching over some thirty-four years. He’s no ordinary serial killer, he has a cold-blooded, meticulous plan, stretching over an entire lifetime, measured, programmed, scheduled. I found out about the first five crimes by searching the police records, and I may have missed something. As for the next two after Lise, by then I was following the judge’s movements and watching the press. Fulgence knew I would never give up, so I forced him to keep moving. But he kept slipping through my fingers. And you must see, Danglard, that it’s not over. Fulgence has risen from the grave to kill a ninth victim in Schiltigheim. It’s his signature, I know it. Three blows in a straight line. I’ll have to go there myself to check the measurements, but you’ll see, Danglard, the line won’t be longer than 16.9 centimetres. The weapon was brand new. The suspect is some poor old wino, a vagrant, and he can’t remember a thing. It’s all there.’
    ‘All the same,’ said Danglard, pulling a face, ‘if you include Schiltigheim in the sequence, that gives us a series of murders spreadover what? Fifty-four years? I’d say that was unprecedented in the annals of crime.’
    ‘The Trident is an unprecedented character. A monster, exceptional in all respects. I don’t know how I can persuade you of that. You never met him.’
    ‘All the same,’ said Danglard again, ‘you’re suggesting he stopped in 1983 and then started again twenty years later. That just doesn’t make sense.’
    ‘Who says he hasn’t killed in the interval?’
    ‘You do. You said you had watched the press like a hawk. And then nothing happens for twenty years.’
    ‘That’s quite simply because I stopped