Read The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6) for Free Online Page B

to be staying here with the dead man.’
    ‘Monsieur,’ said Bruno, noting the pale, drawn face as he shook hands with Valentoux. He caught the smell of vomit, saw a patch of it by the rear wheel of the blue van. There were more spatters on the front of Valentoux’s jeans and on his shoes, leather trainers that looked expensive. His hair was short with blond streaks and he wore a dark blue scarf around his neck, tucked into a cream shirt that Bruno guessed was silk.
    ‘I put a cradle over the head,’ said Albert, looking down at the body. It was covered by a fireman’s red blanket and draped over something at one end. Bruno kneeled down and lifted a corner of the blanket and saw a spindly metal framework, rather like the ones he put over his winter seedlings.
    ‘It’s from my garden,’ Albert explained. ‘I was picking it up from my sister and it seemed like a good idea to cover him up. He’s been dead for some hours. It’s not a pleasant sight.’
    ‘
Mon Dieu
,’ said Valentoux. He raised his head to look at Bruno. ‘I couldn’t even tell you if it’s him.’
    ‘Perhaps the fire chief could help you to your car, Monsieur,’ said Bruno, waiting until they left before uncovering the battered shape that had once been a human head. Blood had pooled beneath and behind the man’s head. Bits of shattered bone and teeth stood out from the pool. The face was unrecognizable as human, the features savagely, perhaps deliberately, obliterated.
    Bruno closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, forcing himself out from shock and back into professionalism by trying to think what weapon might have done this. Perhaps an ironbar, he told himself. He opened his eyes and looked at the rest of the body. One hand was blood-smeared and swollen, as if he might have tried to protect himself. The other hand looked to have been professionally manicured, the nails buffed and polished. An open and empty black leather wallet with brass reinforcements on the corners lay between the dead man’s thighs.
    Assuming the body was male, the dead man had been wearing khaki slacks and boat shoes without socks, a plain black T-shirt and a denim jacket. Only the jacket collar bore signs of blood, which suggested he had been knocked to the ground and then the head battered as he lay. His attacker must have stood over him, probably straddling the body, and then applied backhand and forehand blows to the head. That was the only way Bruno could interpret the way the blood had spattered. They had experts on that, these days, at the
Police Nationale
.
    He replaced the blanket over its cradle, rose and took out his phone to call J-J, chief of detectives for the
Département
, and peered into the blue Ford as he waited for J-J to pick up. As usual, he got the recording, left a message and then sent J-J a brief text message.
    On the floor by the passenger seat was an empty packet of crisps, some sandwich wrappings and a British newspaper, a
Daily Telegraph
with yesterday’s date. Under the seat was a magazine called
Antiques Weekly
and he noticed some maps and other papers in the door pocket. He took a pair of evidence gloves from his pouch. One set of papers seemed to be a rental agreement for the van for three weeks from a branch of Avis in some town called Croydon. The renter was named as FrancisFullerton. Tucked into the Avis folder was a ticket stub from the 7 a.m. Eurostar train the previous day. Bruno checked that the registration number on the ticket matched that of the blue Ford. The other sheaf of papers was from Delightful Dordogne, the local holiday rentals agency run by Dougal, a retired Scottish businessman. The
gîte
was rented to a Francis Fullerton for two weeks, starting as usual with such agreements on a Saturday. So why had Fullerton arrived early?
    The rest of the van was empty and Bruno went back to the body. Some mixed euro and British coins were in a trouser pocket and he found a British passport in the denim jacket. He walked back