Today's Reading
"Boss! Boss!"
Dupin glanced at his watch. It was twenty past eight. What was the problem? They had arranged to meet at a quarter to nine. And it wasn't far to the station. He could even have enjoyed a quick petit café in the Amiral en route. Nolwenn and Riwal wanted to speak "urgently and definitively" about the "big party": the celebration of Dupin's ten-year work anniversary. It was two days away, on Friday evening. For once, the festivities wouldn't take place at the Amiral; after weeks of deliberation, they had decided on Ty Mad in Douarnenez.
Had Nolwenn sent the inspector to make sure he was really coming? "We unfortunately don't have much time," she had said yesterday, admonishingly, because Dupin had a meeting with the fire department chief at half past eleven. Dupin wasn't keen on all the fuss, but the discussions had lasted for weeks, and eventually he'd reluctantly agreed to the party. He didn't have the faintest clue what they needed to spend so much time discussing today. Nolwenn always went way, way over the top.
On the shore, Riwal was waving with ever-greater desperation. Even the seal had noticed. It had paused and seemed to be staring toward the beach with a markedly skeptical expression.
"Boss! Boss, there's a body!"
For a moment, Dupin wasn't sure he had heard right. "What?"
"A body! Boss, there's a body!"
The words echoed through the entire bay. There was no doubt.
A body!
Luckily, the beach was still quiet at this time of day. Only Dupin's neighbor, old Madame Claudel, was out walking along the promenade with a baguette tucked under her arm. Naturally, and he wouldn't expect anything different, she had paused and was watching the scene with curiosity.
"I'm coming, Riwal."
Dupin began to swim as quickly as he could, going into the front crawl. The seal had noticed something unusual was happening; it glanced around in alarm and then considerately escorted Dupin to the beach.
"Where? Who is it?"
Dupin began to run while he was still in the water. He dashed toward the inspector.
"A male, in the sea. In the harbor at Doëlan. We don't know who he is yet. A fisherman found him."
"And he doesn't know him?"
"No."
Without slowing down, Dupin had run past Riwal, heading to his clothes, which lay farther up the beach. Riwal followed.
"Any signs of foul play?"
"Not yet."
"If the fisherman doesn't know him, then he's not from there."
Doëlan was a tiny village belonging to the small community of Clohars-Carnoët.
The commissaire had arrived by his things—a hand towel, jeans, polo shirt, and shoes.
"Probably not, no."
"Has anyone been reported missing in the area?"
"No. Two gendarmes from Quimperlé are already en route, and should arrive in Doëlan shortly. The coroner's on his way too."
"Good."
There was no time to dry himself off. Or to remove his swimming trunks. He had no choice but to pull his jeans on over them.
"We'll take my car!" Dupin raced off.
...
