The Ninth Victim

Detective Inspector Michel ‘Jean’ Valjean was furious, he had been summoned to his Commissioner’s office and left kicking his heels for what seemed like forever.

Despite the No Smoking signs, Valjean reached into his pocket and extracted a crumpled pack of Gauloise, he selected one and lit it, he inhaled deeply feeling the familiar sensations almost like the caress of an old lover.

He had tried sweet talking the Commissioner’s secretary, but she just shrugged her shoulders non-committedly. ‘Bloody bitch’ muttered Valjean under his breath.

Under normal circumstances he would have just burst into the office. But the circumstances were not normal. there was already a man in conference with the Commissioner, a man unknown to Valjean.

Valjean’s mind was racing, am I in the shit again in line for another warning, or am I due for another commendation. Lord knows I’ve had more than my fair share of both.

Then the door opened and Valjean was ushered inside and given a seat. ‘Detective Inspector Valjean,’ said the Commissioner, ‘This is Raoul Dupin Prefecture of Police for the Languedoc area’ he said introducing the stranger, ‘He has need of your particular talents.’

(C) Damian Grange 2020