The time to feed Domino – the house cat – as the day was likely to be long, and he was already riding his bike towards the old town.
Find the first two episodes in the Nissart Killer section.
The streets of Nice were almost deserted, and the cleaning machines, already in action, were working to try to give it a shiny appearance for the awakening of its residents and tourists. In ten minutes, the journey had been swallowed. Fred parked his motorcycle in front of the restaurant, while the market vendors finished setting up their stands. A swarm of “ficanas,” nosy people in the text and local language, were clustered in front of the establishment’s gates, and the police cordon was struggling to contain them. Fred entered, showing his card to the two policemen who greeted him with a formal salute.
“Hi Fred, here’s the scoop. Maxime Latour, chef and owner of the establishment, was found this morning by the cleaning staff in the basement freezer. Come, it’s this way.” Nathalie gave a quick morning kiss to her superior.
Both entered the cold room the size of a studio, in the middle of which was a large box in which the victim was curled up and perfectly tied. “Looks like a giant roast…” Fred thought.
“He was found at 4:30 am by the two people you saw when you entered, but they are completely cleared. Two chef murders, that’s getting a bit much, isn’t it, boss?” Fred had a holy horror of Céline calling him that, even though it was the reality.
“Yes, Céline, I think we’re really in trouble!” Fred had said, who no longer had any doubt about a connection between this murder and that of Ramage.
“What does the medical examiner say?” Fred followed up.
“The medical examiner,” replied Samy, who was carrying a transparent plastic bag containing a piece of the rope tying up the chef, “says the victim died frozen after being drugged and skillfully tied so he couldn’t move. I’d say he died in less than two hours and tried to free himself, but unsuccessfully, looking at the marks on his wrists, ankles, and neck. I still need to check if asphyxia isn’t the cause of death, but otherwise, we’re definitely dealing with a new homicide, Fred.”
“I’m heading back to the office, and we’ll meet as soon as you’re done.” Céline and Jeff received the information; as if they weren’t already quite busy wrapping up the first phase of the investigation. The Cours was starting to fill up. The news had certainly spread rapidly in the neighborhood, which didn’t help matters.
“By the way, did you also hear about Alain Roullier, the candidate for the municipal elections found dead at home? Do you know anything more?” Fred asked.
“Natural death, Chief. That was the last thing we needed in the investigation, just weeks before the municipal elections. We’re already in enough trouble with our two victims,” Céline sighed.
“Hey Fred, aloura?” Daniel, who was, like every morning, at Cours Saleya shopping at Mme Mignonne’s, called out to his friend as soon as he left the restaurant.
“It’s a mess, bicou, the chef of ‘Fenêtre sur Cours’ was taken down,” Fred quietly told him.
“Oh damn, shit!” Daniel replied. “By the way, yesterday, I saw our president of the Circle of the Capelina d’Or, you know Renée Graglia, she asked me to tell you to call her regarding Ramage. I know he was part of the association, but we never saw him at meetings. Maybe she has something on him. I’ll send you her number by SMS, off you go!” concluded Daniel, giving his friend a pat on the back and on the eagle embroidered on his leather.
“Yes, send it, I’ll call her today. Try to keep an ear to the ground in the neighborhood and I’ll come see you tonight. Let’s go, it must be hectic at the station.” Fred put on his helmet and vanished through one of the arches of Cours Saleya to exit onto the Quai des Etats-Unis, heading to Auvare.
Indeed, the station was in full swing. Vincent was in his office, in front of which five or six journalists were waiting to be received by the chief and his communications officer. Fred passed by the office, nodding knowingly to his superior who got up to let the cameras in, eager to capture images.
“Cathy, please bring me the updated Ramage file and the first elements of the Latour case and, not to trouble you, if you could make me a coffee,” Fred requested.
“Of course, inspector, no sugar as usual,” Cathy, his administrative assistant who had been with him since his appointment almost 10 years ago, was already off in search of her boss’s three requests when Fred’s phone vibrated, indicating a masked number.
“Hello, Frédéric Ségur speaking.”
“I know who you are, Mr. Ségur, as I also know that you are on the two murders of Ramage and Latour. I will be brief, look around the Grand Orient of Nice if you want to know a little more about these cases. Good luck, Mr. Ségur, even though you will need much more than that to unravel this mystery.” A dull beep ended the conversation, and Fred quickly got up to join the “lab,” as the officers at the station called it.
“Guys, I just received a masked call on my mobile, I am leaving it with you to see what you can gather. I’m afraid we will not be able to get much since the caller stayed only a few seconds on the line,” Fred said, handing his phone to the lab technician in the white coat who connected the device to his computer.
“Indeed, Mr. Ségur, a masked call and a ten-second connection won’t be enough, I think. I’m saving the data and will see what I can do,” responded the computer technician to Fred, who returned to his desk where the two files and his coffee awaited him. As well as Céline and Jeff, who had just returned from the crime scene.
“Nothing new, not a trace of break-in or struggle. Toxicology analyses are underway, but in my opinion, it won’t yield much according to Samy,” Céline replied, flipping through the still thin file of the Latour case.
“I received a strange call telling me to look around the Grand Orient of Nice. Of course, masked call and only a few seconds, so impossible to trace unless a miracle occurs,” Fred explained. “Freemasonry, damn, and what’s the next step, extraterrestrials…,” Jeff quipped.
“I know, Jeff, I’ll see with the chief how he wants us to proceed, and meanwhile, let’s keep the news under wraps, okay?” “No problem, Fred,” responded his two loyal deputies.
It was true that it wasn’t easy to investigate the realm of Freemasonry, in Nice as elsewhere, primarily because it’s a society not open to the outside and, secondly, because it contained most of the local elite (with all its layers). The journalists were now leaving the commissioner’s office, ushered out by the regional communications officer. Vincent joined Fred’s office for a complete debriefing.
“And damn! Two murder cases that are likely linked weren’t complicated enough, now maybe it could involve the Masons. The commissioner wasn’t pleased with the news either, advising Fred to tread carefully and contact the former chief commissioner, well-known for investigating the case of the stolen files in the 80s, and for being a Mason himself, as he had explained in numerous books he wrote on the subject.
Fred knew him well since he had been his boss for a few years before his retirement and Vincent’s appointment as commissioner. “You’re right, Vincent, I’ll contact him as soon as possible, he can certainly be very useful on these cases.”
The conversation was interrupted by the entry of the computer technician into Fred’s office, which had remained open. “Inspector Ségur, we couldn’t do anything for the call on your mobile. I’ll make one last attempt with the operator and I’ll keep you informed.”
“Thank you, and don’t hesitate to call me if you have any news,” Fred thanked, dialing his former boss’s number. Two rings, then: “Well, well, Inspector Ségur, this morning, I would have bet on your call. How are you apart from the two murders you have on your hands?” News travels fast, even very fast, when you’ve held a position like his.
“I’m fine, boss, thank you, and indeed, it’s a bit complicated. Would you, please, have a moment to spare, as soon as possible, so that I can give you certain details of the investigation which might interest you greatly?” Fred asked.
“Well, I’ll be back in Nice tonight around 6 pm, if you wish, you can come by my place for an aperitif, we’ll have time to discuss all these files. Does that suit you?” the former commissioner asked.
“Yes, that’s perfect, I’ll be at your place at 6 sharp, thank you, boss.” “You’re welcome, I owe you that much, see you tonight, Fred!” And he hung up.
Indeed, Fred had once saved the commissioner’s life during an operation they were working on together. A robbery of an armored van had gone wrong on the 202, during which the robbers barricaded themselves in the van with a hostage. While attacking the van, one of the two robbers emerged from the vehicle with an automatic rifle and sprayed everything in front of him.
At the same time, Fred had dived onto the commissioner, pushing him to the ground as the intervention brigade officers quickly retaliated, hitting the criminal fatally several times. After analysis of bullet impacts, it had been shown that many trajectories were heading towards the commissioner.
“Céline, Jeff… I’ll see the boss tonight, I’ll call you after I’ve seen him.” Fred grabbed his jacket and while putting it on, notified his two deputies before heading back out into the field in search of more information.
