He’s here! Here is the first episode of the crime series “Nissart Killer” imagined by Franck Viano, with episodes to be published every Wednesday at 8 a.m. on his Facebook page and on Nice Premium. A tip for following the story more easily, use copy/paste on a Word document! Have a good adventure…
NISSART KILLER – First Episode
The large restaurant room was empty, and only a few uniformed police officers were monitoring the comings and goings of the various visitors. Seeing Fred, two of them greeted him, and the third approached to embrace him, being a childhood friend from Old Nice, with whom he had completed a good part of his schooling and then the police academy in Paris. Fred moved toward the kitchens he was about to visit for the first time, just like the restaurant itself, as his inspector’s salary certainly did not allow him the luxury of this kind of place.
“Hello, Inspector, please follow me, it’s this way.” A young investigator came to meet him. He resembled a true lab rat with his white coat, bluish paper slippers, and translucent latex gloves.
It was around the large central stove that Frédéric found the lifeless body lying on the floor. It was Chef and owner of the place, Bertrand Ramage. He was lying, naked and lifeless, right in the middle of tomatoes, artichokes, green salad peppers, and other scallions.
But what surprised Fred above all was the presence of bundles of green beans inserted into all the victim’s orifices, from the mouth to the nostrils, including the ears and anus.
“Ciao Fred! It’s the first time I’ve seen such a thing in 20 years on the job.” Samuel Bachat had approached the victim to join Fred, with whom he had worked for nearly five years in the anti-crime squad.
“I see that, Samy. Has forensics already done their job?” Fred replied. “Yes, they just left, and the coroner concluded that the time of death was around 2 a.m. In my opinion, it happened a little after the last service and before closing. Employees say he was often the last to leave and to close the establishment.”
The arrival of the late Chef Ramage’s associate interrupted this quick briefing.
“My God, it’s not possible… Bertrand…” The voice was hesitant, and his eyes filled with tears as he approached.
“Hello sir, Frédéric Ségur from the criminal police. Please stay away from the crime scene as we still need to conduct tests and samples.” Of course, Fred knew Ramage’s associate because he had encountered him on numerous occasions, Philippe Randin being one of the deputy mayors of the city in charge of security and coordination with the municipal police.
“Yes, of course, Inspector. It’s dreadful, horrible, incomprehensible… But who could have wanted Bertrand dead in such a way?” The clearly shaken deputy replied.
“That’s one of the questions I’d like to ask you, Mr. Randin, but let’s go back to the room; we’ll be more comfortable chatting there.” Fred responded promptly, indicating the kitchen’s exit door to his interlocutor while raising his left arm and accompanying the official with the other.
“Samy, ensure no one touches anything. I’ll talk with Randin and return in a few moments.” Fred whispered to his work colleague, who promptly complied.
“Would you like a coffee, Mr. Randin?” Fred inquired.
“I would.” The deputy replied. “Could you get us two coffees, please!” Fred directed two uniformed officers, who immediately set out to find the caffeinated drinks.
“Mr. Randin, who could have wanted to harm Mr. Ramage? Any idea, any names?” Fred posed his question while simultaneously offering the coffee cup to the official.
“Bertrand only had friends, and everyone respected him, in the profession as well as in his private life. Of course, success sometimes breeds jealousy, but I see no one around him capable of doing this.” The deputy retorted. “Was he married? Did he have children?” Fred asked, almost mechanically.
“No, Bertrand was gay. Since the death of his partner Albert four years ago, I didn’t know him to have any relationships, at least not serious ones. He lived only for his work. He spent 16 hours a day in his kitchen from Monday to Saturday and even sometimes on Sundays when working on new recipes. It’s terrible…” Randin replied.
“Would you allow me to search the restaurant and check the contents of the computers?” Fred asked.
“Absolutely, Inspector… I must immediately contact Bertrand’s brother who lives in Canada to break the terrible news. I’ll also ask him for permission for you to investigate at Bertrand’s parents’ home on the Bellet hill. You must find the bastard who did this, Inspector!” Randin’s cooperation and deep grief were almost enough to definitively remove him from the suspect list.
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Randin, and thank you for your help. I must now return to the kitchen to continue my work.” Fred got up, prompting the official’s departure, who gave him a firm handshake, eyes filled with tears.
The kitchen was almost empty now, with only Samy and another uniformed officer remaining.
“I think he inserted the beans while they were still frozen; otherwise, I don’t see how he could have done it. As for the cause of death, he was asphyxiated by the bunches of beans placed in his mouth and nostrils. The marks on the wrists and ankles show he was tied up, I think with zip ties. I noticed a few small things I want to check in the lab, but nothing very interesting at first glance, I’m afraid. We need to wait for the autopsy results to know more. It’s a very clean job, in any case.” Fred loved Samy’s analyses and had no doubt about the thoroughness his friend would bring to searching for the slightest clue.
“Thanks, Samy, any idea how he got in?” Fred inquired.
“I’d say he was already inside, as there’s no sign of forced entry and no sign of fighting either; the kitchen had just been cleaned.” Samuel replied.
Fred’s eyes scanned the large kitchen without really focusing on anything specific, and the smell of the lemony cleaning product was starting to get too much for him. The kitchen’s only exterior access was locked with keys in the inner lock, and the small glazed window, protected by a wrought iron grille, was barely ajar.
Indeed, no one could have exited through these two exits. While passing by the large stainless steel work table, he noticed the large red circles surrounding visible fingerprints on this type of material.
He had now made his way around the room when his boss, Commissioner Vincent Rossetti, arrived.
“Frédéric, I’ve had the mayor call me three times in less than an hour; no surprise, with municipal elections just three months away, and there are at least 30 journalists outside clamoring for news. So?” The commissioner looked at the body with an indifference likely shaped by his extensive experience.
“Vincent, we have absolutely nothing at the moment, but Samy still has some things to check. Do you want me to handle the journalists?” The commissioner gave a relieved smile, signaling his approval.
“Okay, I’m going.” Fred said as he made his way to the large room towards the entrance hall of the establishment, which was indeed bustling with journalists, cameras, and microphones ready to spring into action.
“Mr. Inspector… Inspector Ségur… Frédéric…” The calls came in varying degrees of familiarity from the journalists, and Frédéric stopped his advance a good meter from them.
“We found, this morning, the lifeless body of the chef and owner Bernard Ramage, and there is virtually no doubt that it’s a homicide. For now, we have not yet determined the cause of death, which is estimated to have occurred around 2 a.m.” Fred held back the details of the cause of death and the green beans to use them at an appropriate time.
Questions immediately started pouring in, almost all equally useless and uninteresting, and Frédéric stuck, as usual, to repeating what he had said at the beginning, only changing the phrasing. After all, those media management courses that Vincent regularly sent him to in the capital instead of himself were paying off. Flashbulbs popped one last time, and the cameras dropped from the shoulders of the image reporters who instantly rushed to their two-wheelers. Quick thanks to the closest ones, and Fred re-entered the establishment at the moment the Mayor and part of his cabinet were arriving from the corner of the street. “Vincent, they’re coming,” Fred alerted his friend and superior.
The mayor entered the restaurant, immediately approaching the local crime boss. “Vincent, do we know more?” His voice was imbued with sadness, and Fred noticed it right away.
“No, Mr. Mayor, no more than what I told you on the phone. I advise you not to go into the kitchen; it’s not a pretty sight.” But the chief magistrate was already pushing through the two heavy swinging doors held by magnetic stops.
“Oh my God!” The official stood still for a few seconds in front of the deceased friend’s body, and two of his advisors entered at that moment.
“I need to get out.” The palest among them didn’t manage to reach the restrooms and a large vase containing a beautiful zamioculcas served as a receptacle for his high heart. The Mayor looked at him with heavy disapproval, but quickly turned back to the corpse. “But who could come up with the idea of torturing a man like this?”
Frédéric then joined the conversation, “Mr. Mayor, if I may, it appears he was suffocated, but our teams are on it to verify all possibilities.” The official had now turned back to him, his eyes red with a mix of grief and anger.
“Thank you, Mr. Ségur, I know the case is in good hands,” said the Mayor, extending his hand toward his. “Thank you, Mr. Mayor, and we will keep you informed about the investigation’s progress.” Fred thought, another firm handshake today.
The entourage was now leaving the restaurant, accompanied by the commissioner and Samy, who were following the body placed on a stretcher and covered with a large white sheet. “I’ll call you when I’ve completed the initial analyses,” Samy shouted from the back of the room, raising his closed fist with a thumbs-up directed towards Fred. It was a rallying gesture born in schoolyards, high school, college, and finally at the national police academy.
Fred also left the establishment, jumped on his Guzzi California, and rode to the office when his phone vibrated…
Next episode, Wednesday, January 22nd at 8 a.m.…
