The author takes us from old Nice to the Alpine valleys in search of mysterious murders. Augustin Meaulnes, an inspector of national education, takes in an old homeless man from the Sainte Réparate Cathedral into his house in the countryside of Nice.
Throughout the story and as the investigation unfolds, he gets involved, leading us to the valleys of the County of Nice for our great delight. The Tinée, the Vésubie, the Roya. We sense the aromas of the herbs, the flocks, and nature with these peasants whose lives are deeply rooted in the past, their past, their history. To this are added the legends, the satanic sects where enthusiasts wish to revive Rabelaisian ideals and the apocalypse of Saint John.
Two men die suddenly, threatening letters, daggers are found. The tattoo 666 on a hand. The inspector of the academy, a historian, and a police commissioner, all three former study comrades, embark on the search for a possible culprit. Augustin Meaulnes lives with his flock far from the city where he works but escapes whenever he can.
Who were the two victims? A former gendarme and a former college aide. Nothing seems to connect these two men who died of a heart attack while hiking. Alain Grinda masterfully juggles legend, the numbers of the beast (666), the drawings of the Valley of Wonders.
The reader is captivated by the suspense and its twists. Each page opens up new aspects, revives the investigation. It’s both a beautiful excursion in these villages and hamlets, and we even cross the border to find ourselves in Vernante, the city of Pinocchio but also of cutlers. Vésubie 666 is a whole story where the murderer plays on the value of this number to perhaps mislead us, crying thief when he himself is the thief.
A cleverly orchestrated plot, two deaths, but maybe there should have been more? This is the very interest of this work. The author lives in the Mercantour and, between wolves and sheep, traditions and legends, he knows how to deliver to us the charms of his barn, where his magnificent novels are born.
Thierry Jan
