The Crowded Grave

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Authors: Martin Walker
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around here, we believe in the ethical treatment of farmers.”
    Teddy said nothing, but Kasimir looked at him curiously.
    “You ever tried foie gras?” Bruno asked, his tone conversational rather than challenging.
    “Of course,” said Kasimir, as Teddy shook his massive head. “We have it in Poland as well, always at Christmas. We have a sweet white wine from Hungary with it, a Tokay.”
    “So the cruelty these PETA people talk about, it doesn’t worry you?”
    Kasimir grinned. “If there’s any cruelty, blame Mother Nature. Ducks and geese always stuff themselves to swell their livers before they fly off on winter migration. That’s how they store their energy. Everybody knows that.”
    From the look on Teddy’s face, it didn’t appear to Bruno that he knew that gavage, the force-feeding of the birds, was also a natural process. He glanced at Annette. She also looked surprised.
    “Well, if you hear of any of your pals making plans to attack more farms, talk them out of it. Or I’ll be making arrests for criminal damage. And Annette here will have to bring charges. That’s her job.” Bruno turned away, then looked back at Teddy.
    “One more thing. Rugby practice is tomorrow evening at six, if you’re interested, and again at nine on Saturday morning.We have spare gear at the stadium—you know where it is? First left after the Bricomarché, and you’ll see the rugby posts.”
    “Thanks,” said Teddy, looking surprised. “I’d like that.”
    “You might want to bring Kajte along,” Bruno added. “And tell her to be careful where she does her photocopying.”
    Teddy’s cheerful face suddenly clouded, and he looked away.
    “What was that last remark about?” Annette asked as they headed back to Bruno’s car.
    “I made a few inquiries. Kajte was doing the photocopying for the dig, work rotations and stuff. I think she photocopied the leaflets that were left on the wire, and I checked the websites she was using—she was looking up PETA slogans and campaigns.”
    Annette stopped in her tracks, her expression horrified and her voice suddenly shrill. “You searched her private computer?”
    “No, I looked at the public computer she used in the tourist center,” said Bruno equably. “She hadn’t cleared the cache. No privacy was breached, and the computer is owned by St. Denis, so I have every right to consult it.”
    Annette nodded, but still looked troubled. Then she looked at him challengingly. “But if you have a case against somebody, why give them a warning like that? It’s not as though you share their sympathies about animal rights. And I should let you know that I do, and if there are any cases of wanton cruelty to animals, there are statutes against it that I would want to enforce.”
    They were walking side by side, amiably enough, although there was a sharper tone in her voice. But she seemed ready to listen. Bruno was reminded of times in the army when a new officer had come to take over the squad. It was always Bruno’s job as sergeant to educate him, buff away the officer-school polish and teach him how to make forty tough young soldiersobey their orders cheerfully. He wondered if Annette would be amenable to some gentle coaching, after making such a disastrous entry into St. Denis. He’d have to try. Nobody would benefit from a constant tension between town and magistrate.
    “I want to stop it now before it gets any worse,” he said. “You must have seen angry farmers on TV, dumping cartloads of manure on the steps of a
mairie
, blocking roads with tractors, throwing bureaucrats into the river. That’s what could happen here unless we can defuse the situation. It would hurt the museum and mean trouble for my friend Horst, a German professor who runs the dig.”
    “He wasn’t there today?”
    “No, he’s giving a public lecture at the museum tonight so he was probably preparing that. I’m looking forward to it. He’s a good speaker, he’s passionate about this

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