Free Murder on Brittany Shores by Jean-Luc Bannalec

around a bikini-wearing, picture-perfect brunette. He was looking straight into the camera, confidently, penetratingly, challengingly. Dupin couldn’t make out whether the man in the photo was one of the three dead on the beach. But of the three men, there had been only one face that was relatively easy to make out. And it wasn’t him.
    â€˜I can’t make a statement based on this photo. But it would be good if we could check it quickly. Then we’ll have some certainty. I’ll…’
    Dupin reflected.
    â€˜There’s a series of photos of my brother available on the internet. He is a well known sailor. The Admiral’s Cup…’
    â€˜Can I keep the photo anyway?’
    â€˜If he turns up again straight away, you’ll have to explain to him why the Commissariat de Police Concarneau is in possession of a private photograph of him and his girlfriend.’
    Her smile was a little strained.
    â€˜I’ll think of something. What is still important for us is this: you said you brother hasn’t been seen since yesterday evening?’
    Muriel Lefort answered slightly timidly.
    â€˜As far as I know. My assistant said she hadn’t seen him all morning. I don’t know what he had planned. As I mentioned, I didn’t speak to him at all in the Quatre Vents last night. We…’
    She seemed to be thinking for a moment.
    â€˜It is well known, that we weren’t – that we’re not close. We have a meeting today, there are some important things to discuss. We run the sailing school together, in theory, I mean … It belongs to both of us.’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜You still haven’t told me how you came across my brother in the first place?’
    Dupin had to keep a clear head. The situation with Lefort now seemed clearer than it really was.
    â€˜It’s a bit complicated, Madame Lefort. We know that your brother often goes on boat trips with a Monsieur Yannig Konan and that they were planning one this weekend too. I take it you know Monsieur Konan?’
    â€˜Only superficially.’
    â€˜But you’re aware that the two of them are friends and sometimes go out together in the boat?’
    â€˜Yes, why?’
    Dupin hesitated.
    â€˜Yannig Konan didn’t turn up to his office today,’ Dupin said, quickly adding, ‘but he has not yet been reported missing. He could be anywhere, there are indications that he is in Bénodet or in the area of Bénodet. His boat, which he was out in, is in the harbour there.’
    Muriel Lefort’s eyes widened.
    â€˜Konan is missing too?’
    â€˜At the moment we don’t know where he is. Nothing more.’
    Dupin was well aware that his sentence had not been particularly polished.
    â€˜So it could still be Lucas then.’
    â€˜I myself have only known since a short time ago that it was your brother who was out with Konan. I … this is really a very complicated story. But you’ll see, it will all turn out to have been nothing. That’s how it will go.’
    Dupin had made an effort to infuse this sentence with all of the confidence he could muster. He hadn’t done a great job.
    Muriel Lefort turned towards the exit.
    â€˜I have to go back to the office, Monsieur le Commissaire. Maybe somebody there will have heard from Lucas after all.’
    â€˜Thanks for your help so far already, Madame Lefort.’
    They walked outside and said goodbye. Dupin made a note of her phone number in case there was news. Then he walked slowly back down the gravel path. But he didn’t turn right towards the Quatre Vents, he went left, towards the sandbank.
    He had to make a call. In peace.
    â€˜Riwal?’
    â€˜Monsieur le Commissaire?’
    â€˜I’d like our colleagues to check immediately whether one of the dead is a Monsieur Lucas Lefort. Straight away. A famous sailor. World champion or something. You should look for a usable photo on the