The Roubaud Connection (Genevieve Lenard, #12)

“I told her I’d think about it. She never came back to me.”

“Because she was killed.”

“Yeah.” His laugh didn’t sound filled with humour. “My mind went crazy with conspiracy theories. I even thought she would ask me to put hidden messages in the paintings.”

It happened so suddenly that I imagined the click in my head. That missing connection that had been lingering in the back of my mind rushed to the fore and took over. I barely heard Colin asking Johan a few more questions, but not getting any more useful answers. I wanted this inane conversation to end so I could rush to my viewing room to confirm my theory.

The moment Colin ended his call, I pushed my chair back and ran to my room. I ignored Manny’s expletive, followed by a demand to know what I was doing.

I sat down and opened my best graphics software programme. I uploaded the photos of the labels on the wine bottles and chose the one we’d found in Adèle’s basement. I zoomed in on the lines that formed the watermark.

Then I zoomed in more. And more. This programme allowed me to zoom in extensively provided that the photo was of great quality. The photos were.

I zoomed in until the lines changed shape.

“Oh, my God!” Francine sat down in Colin’s chair and clapped her hands. “Micro-printing. How did you know?”

“I didn’t.” I’d suspected. “There was something not quite right about these lines.”

“And when Johan talked about hidden messages, you made the connection.” Colin kissed me on the top of my head before walking to the back of the room.

“What does it say, Doc?” Manny sat down next to me. “Iran, Fran?ois and everything will have to wait for now. Let’s see if this can bloody tell us why all these people are dead and why Iran sent people here to spy on Caelan.”

“We don’t know that.” I hated it when anyone made statements that were gross assumptions.

“Just tell me what the hell is written there, missy.”

I turned back to photo and tilted it until the writing was horizontal. “It’s a name.” I looked closer. “No, more than a name.”

“A name and a place. Gerard Roux and Colmar.” Francine pointed at the monitor. “See how his name and place are repeated to form the line?”

“Who the hell is this?”

“I need time.” Did he not see the impossibility of me knowing who this man was? I wanted to know as well.

“Well, hurry up.”

“I’ll help, girlfriend.” Francine took her tablet and started tapping and swiping. I was no longer amazed at the things she managed to achieve on that device. She’d upgraded it to the point where it no longer resembled the factory model.

It took us fourteen minutes to go through all the photos and confirm there were nineteen sets of names and places. Each of the nineteen different labels had only one set—name and place—that was repeated throughout each line. I sat back and looked at the list Francine had made, putting an ID photo of some sort next to each name.

“How many code names and places were on Adèle’s chart?” Colin’s quiet question brought an avalanche of revelations.

I opened the folder with the photos of Adèle’s business organisational chart and looked at it with this newfound information. I gasped. “This wasn’t her business model.”

“Then whose bloody business is this, Doc?” Manny was still sitting next to me, Daniel was with Colin at the back of my room and Vinnie in his usual place by the door. I didn’t see Phillip.

“I don’t know.” And I really didn’t want to mention my suspicion.

“I’m thinking it is her drug supplier.” Francine was twirling a strand of hair around her index finger while looking at the monitors. “Yes, I think that these names are the distributors linked to the big supplier in the green square.”

“We have no evidence of this.” That was why I didn’t want to say anything. I did, however, feel even stronger about my theory now that Francine had said the same.

“Then what do you call that?” Francine zoomed in on one of the squares where Adèle had written, ‘round face, rainbow village’. She highlighted a name and place on her list, an ID photo next to the name. “You cannot tell me that man doesn’t have a face rounder than the moon. And rainbow village? You will not find a more colourful place in France than Colmar. Which is only sixty-four kilometres from Strasbourg, I might add. And see here?” She pointed at the column where she’d made notes about each person. “Ol’ Gerard Roux has a criminal record. For what you may ask? Drug dealing, of course!” She threw her hands up in the air.

I ignored her theatrics. “We need to confirm more than just one description before making any statements as if they were facts.”

“Ooh, let me do that.” Her fingers were already moving over her tablet screen. “This is going to be such fun.”

“So somebody sent these crates of liquid heroin in wine bottles with labels that have the information of people she”—Manny glared at Francine—“thinks are drug dealers.”

“I’m right, handsome.” Francine didn’t stop working. “Just you wait and see. I’ll confirm that each one of these people has some connection to the drug trade.”

“Why the bleeding hell would someone send those names?” Manny pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Why would Adèle steal those bottles? Bloody hell, people!” He lowered his hands, both curled into tight fists. He got up and looked at Daniel and Colin in the back of my room, then at Vinnie standing in the doorway. “Why the bloody hell are you just standing here? This is not good enough. We have nothing pointing to the killer. Nothing that gives us motive as to why those kids were so brutally killed. I thought you were all so good at what you do. Right now, you’re not looking like the crack team everyone thinks you are.”

“That’s fucking it.” Vinnie stalked into my room, his arms away from his torso. Before I could warn anyone of his intent, Vinnie pulled his fist back and punched Manny hard in the stomach. The air rushed out of Manny’s lungs and he folded double, his arms around his torso. Blackness immediately entered my peripheral vision and I sat frozen in my chair. Vinnie leaned closer to Manny, his aggression bringing on even more blackness. “I don’t care what the fuck is wrong with you, but you don’t get to take it out on them.” He bent even lower so he was eye level with Manny. “You wanna hurt someone? You wanna make someone pay for whatever is eating at you?” Vinnie tapped his cheek with the scar. “Punch me. Right here. I can take it. But you don’t fucking hurt them.”

“Bloody hell.” Manny’s voice was strained, his movements jerky as he put his hand out and lowered himself into his chair. His breathing stuttered as he rubbed his hands hard over his face before looking at Vinnie. “I...” His voice broke.

“You’re screwing up, Millard.” Colin’s gentle tone softened the harsh words. He waited until Manny looked at him. “We’re your family. Let us be there for you.”

“And stop being such a stubborn idiot.” The exhaustion and stress of the last few days now appeared much stronger on Francine’s face. She swallowed and looked at me. “I’ve been telling him to share. But his stiff upper lip is making him an idiot.”

I frowned and studied Manny. “His upper lip is quite normal.”

There was a moment of silence before everyone laughed. Humour had not been my intention at all, but the break in hostility had the added benefit of the darkness receding.

I was still looking at Manny. If I wanted to do as he said and find the killer as well as motive, we needed to focus. And I knew my friends well enough to be convinced it would only happen if this situation was resolved.

Estelle Ryan's books