Read Online After the Crash by Michel Bussi - Free Book Online Page A

or that the Vitrals were simply making up the
story about the album, I also wondered whether Léonce de Carville
might be involved: he could have gone to Pascal and Stéphanie’s
apartment before the police arrived and got rid of any evidence that
could compromise his position. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Judge Le Drian’s neck was beginning to sweat. This case was shaping up to be a legal minefield.
    ‘All right,’ he said, ‘we’ve gone through almost everyone now. So
what about the rest of the Vitral family . . . Is that a dead end too?’
‘Pretty much,’ said Superintendent Vatelier. ‘The child’s mother,
Stéphanie, was abandoned by her mother. She was raised in an
orphanage in Rouen. She was only sixteen when she met Pascal
Vitral on a café terrace and fell in love. So little Emilie – if she is the
one who survived – has no living kin other than her grandparents,
Pierre and Nicole, and her older brother Marc.’
Judge Le Drian stared out of the window, above the lights of the
Eiffel Tower, in search of a star that might guide them through this
dark Christmas night.
    The arguments and counter-arguments went on like this for hours,
and I could describe every detail. Not only do I have the films of
the meetings, I have also gone through almost three thousand pages
of notes accumulated by Judge Le Drian during the weeks that followed. And that’s without even mentioning my personal research.
Fear not, I will come back to these discussions in a moment, at
least for what seem to me to be the most important points. But
I think you must already be getting a sense of the investigators’
difficulties.
Which side of the coin would land face up? Heads or tails? I still
don’t know.
    I am simply passing on all these clues to you. Now it’s your turn
to sift through them . . .
But I can hear you asking questions: What about scientific proof?
Their clothes? Blood type? Eye colour? And all the rest?
Don’t worry, I’m coming to that.
You won’t be disappointed.

8
2 October, 1998, 9.35 a.m.
    Marc ate the rest of his croissant without even looking up at the
clock, or at the beautiful student, or at Mariam. Around him, the
Lenin was alive with noise and movement. And so too, visible
through the café’s windows, was the square outside the university.
Even if he had his doubts about Grand-Duc’s revelations, Marc had
to keep reading, storing away all the information he discovered.
Because this was what Lylie wanted . . .
     
Crédule Grand-Duc’s Journal
    Two weeks later, on 11 January 1980, Judge Le Drian convened a
new meeting. Same investigators, same office in the same building
on Avenue de Suffren . . . but this time, they met in the morning.
The Eiffel Tower seemed to shiver in the fog, its feet covered by
puddles that were slowly growing in the fine drizzle. Lines of tourists stood under umbrellas. This was the most visited monument in
the world, and yet there was no shelter of any kind where people
could wait, not even a simple glass roof.
    Judge Le Drian was growing increasingly irritated. Influential
whispers had reached his ears, making it clear that everyone he
knew was strongly sympathetic towards the de Carvilles.
    The judge was not stupid. He had got the message. But he could
only act according to the facts at his disposal and he was hardly
going to start fabricating false evidence.
    Dr Morange was concluding his report on the child’s blood type.
He had passed around photocopies of the medical analyses.
‘So, to summarise, our miracle child has the most common blood
type, A+, along with forty per cent of the French population. We
have learned from the hospitals in Dieppe and Istanbul that both
Emilie Vitral and Lyse-Rose de Carville are also, without any doubt
whatsoever, A+.’
‘Is there no way of extracting any more information from these
tests?’ the judge asked.
The learned doctor explained: ‘You have to understand: blood
tests only allow us