The soloist had big feet. I had noticed when she entered the scene, despite the long black dress that fell together on the ankles. On the stroke, it amused me, and then I detailed his face teen brunette in bright light, her plump arms, her neck adorned with a red beetle, his virtuoso hand with nails fuchsia. The girl, a young Polish tour with a university in Krakow, was rather cute, and not at all impressed, despite his young age - seventeen years ago - to tackle the formidable Violin Concerto by Brahms. In its place, I was scared to death, unable to leave the least harmonious sound of my instrument. It is true that I have always been emotional.
Taken by the concert, I had forgotten this story feet to concentrate on music.
Three weeks had passed since the concert. That day, a Friday, I left my wood shop a little earlier than usual to follow a game on TV in the League Cup: Toulouse-Auxerre. I love football. I myself have practiced for many years, young first, then in a district team, before a torn cruciate ligament in his right knee will force me to abandon my favorite sport.
I was ensconced in my chair with a can of Heineken when 18 shortly before 30 pm, the bell had sounded. The Toulouse came to get a free kick well positioned slightly to the right of the opposing goal. All eyes on the screen, I had not moved a hair. The bell was rung again, more insistent. The free kick shot, I went to open cursing against the intruder, intent to dismiss, unless this is a beautiful girl, like Monica Bellucci and Penelope Cruz. As I sensed there was no more than Monica Penelope on the threshold of my apartment, but a big lanky blond verging on forty. Two steps behind him stood a young guy like southern powerful jaw. The tall blond handed me a card barred tricolor. Captain
─ Lagadec. And here's the lieutenant Angelkovic. I beg you to please follow us, sir Bizien. ─
But ... I ... What's going on?
A howl of joy, supported by backticks a foghorn and approximate matches of a trumpet, filled the room, the score had been opened.
─ Sorry about your match, Mr. Bizien, but we absolutely need your testimony. Please follow us to the Hotel Police.
─ I guess I have no choice?
─ I'm afraid not.
Four hours later, stripped of my belt and my shoelaces, I was placed in custody in a cell. The nightmare began.
Leaning over his notes, the judge strumming a nervous finger on the edge of his desk blotter. There was a silence in the office of lead, only disturbed by the breakdown of the microcomputer of the clerk. The magistrate leaned back in his chair.
─ Well, "she said pummeling his pen, let's recap: On Sunday, June 5, late morning, a couple of walkers discovered near the fountain Ivy St., at a place called Le Stang, the body of a young 16 year old daughter, Aurelie Jezequel. Her clothing disheveled and her panties torn seem the thesis of a sexual assault. The victim was not raped. During the struggle that was opposed to his assailant, it appears to have been thrown against the fountain where his head violently struck a corner of granite. It is a result of the shock driving the right parietal bone. The unfortunate not get over it. According to the coroner, the death occurred on the evening of Saturday, around 22 hours.
─ All that is sad, but ...
─ You speak when I will call you, Master, "said the judge dryly. My lawyer
huddled in his chair, grumbling. The magistrate spoke again:
─ begins a difficult investigation, lack of physical evidence and witness. One point, however, is firmly established by the gendarmes at the time of the attack, a blue car, brand unknown but unrelated to the town, is seen in different places by three people in the neighborhood. This car was traveling at slow speed along the road leading to the fountain of Saint-Ivy. It is led by a dark man can have between thirty and forty years. I remind you, Mr. Bizien, you own a Ford Mondeo Blue - blue cosmos precisely - whether you're brown and have celebrated your thirty-seven years last month. Until then, I grant you that it does not make you a murderer ...
─ I do not tell you, Madam Justice! exclaimed my lawyer by opening their hands in a theatrical gesture.
─ course, but things get complicated, Master Carval when discovered among the twenty objects collected in the vicinity of a fountain small keychain with the arms of the city of Dubrovnik in which the investigation will show that it was offered to your customer by his nephew Tanguy returned from a trip to Croatia with his parents. This key is overwhelming, Mr. Bizien: it shows that you know the fountain of Saint-Ivy. At first, you deny it, before admitting the obvious. You Arguez then a visit during the month of May at the Saint-Michel which you want to see, as a professional project, the ... the ...
─ The carved tie-beams, Madam Justice, specifically the engoulant.
─ Indeed, Mr. Bizien, the engoulant. The visit, you walk around in the undergrowth to the fountain Ivy St., very close to the Saint-Michel. Then, you say, you lose inadvertently keychain your nephew. Unfortunately for you, it will be found there after the murder of Aurelia. Added to the blue car and the suspect's description, it starts to do a lot. And it's not over because the police are discovering, investigating around you, that on several occasions, including banquets, you're annoyed, not only verbally, girls ... I
─ drinking.
─ Drunk or not, and although there was no complaint, it is clear from these actions, confirmed by your ex-partner, you always had a strong taste for what it calls' fresh meat "...
─ Prosecution of a jealous woman, threw Carval Master, raising his arms to heaven.
Indifferent to the interruption, the judge continued:
─ I do not hide, Mr. Bizien, that all of these elements constitutes a folder to load even more overwhelming than you are unable to provide an alibi for the evening June 4. You claim to have attended that day to a classical concert at the cathedral, in other words, sixty kilometers from the scene of the tragedy. I only ask you to believe. Alas! for you, nobody remembers you have seen, neither the two women attendants at the cash nor the spectators were heard following the appeal for witnesses ─
... Damn, I repeat that I was there, Madame Justice, I was sitting in 5th place on the left, right next to a big pillar. I even lifted two or three minutes during the break between the symphony and the concerto Wranitzky Brahms, to drive the ants in my leg left.
─ Assuming this is true, how do you explain that no one has noticed you yet sparse in assistance?
─ but I do not know, Madam Justice. Except that it was a gathering of old. It is for this reason that I put a little aside. I hate being mixed with the old, do not care that the drone. Add to this that I have a physical yad'ordinaire everything, the kind of guy who always goes unnoticed, and whatever he does wherever he goes.
─ Yep, that's the problem. That said, you're not very observant, Mr. Bizien. In a little over an hour and a half, you have not noticed any viewer not notice the smallest detail that could certify your version ...
─ My client was arrested three weeks later, Madame Justice! In three weeks, the memory fades details soon.
─ Nevertheless, this amnesia is unfortunate, Master Carval. After all, everything your customer remembers is two things: the scarab of the young soloist and the presence of a viola player in the Asian Polish training. The trouble is that the viola and its eastern facies were very visible on the poster for the concert. And more violinist whose bust, printed inset shows perfectly the beetle. I remind you, Lord, that the poster was plastered across the department more than two weeks before the concert, your client has had ample time to absorb it ... Mr. Bizien, do you really no Another memory of that evening, including musicians, since it appears that you do not pay any attention to the public?
─ What do you want me to say? I ironed hundred times the concert film in my head. It appears that the flutist had unkempt hair and the soloist had big feet. Big deal. For the rest, I'm searching my memories to migraine, no significant incidents do comes to mind.
─ sorry for you, sir Bizien, but we need to search again. I give you one last chance to prove myself, without any doubt that you were at the cathedral on the evening of the concert. You have three days. After this time, I will sign the order for referral to the Court of Assizes of the murder charge before the attempted rape of Aurelie Jézéquel.
I lived three nights of hell in the jail. Three nights of nightmare, populated by civil parties hateful, ruthless magistrates, jurors in the eyes injected with anger, pointing my finger avenger. Three nights of horror where the spectrum of the victim had, after long sessions of torture, cut my head a sword with great jubilation.
I had a pale complexion and sunken eyes upon entering the office of the judge. Released from the handcuffs, I sat opposite her, Master Carval by my side. True to itself, the magistrate was impassive. In a few moments, the clerk would give me reading of the court. I was resigned: we do not fight against fate! That's when things took an unexpected turn.
─ Could you describe the clothes you wore the night of the concert, Mr. Bizien?
aback by the question, I took a few seconds to respond.
─ I ... I think it was a cotton polo ... Yes, that's right, a polo shirt with striped red and black.
─ I, monsieur Bizien, the testimony of musicians achieved under a commission rogatory in Poland. In view of your picture, none of them remembers you. With one exception: one of the two clarinetists, Jerzy Boniek said to have watched someone close to resembling a column. The musician, unsure of himself on the face, is in contrast to the formal dress: the man wore a shirt striped vertically with red and black. When asked: "Are you absolutely certain? "Mr. Boniek replied:" It is even because of this that I noticed this person: what are the colors of the football club of my native village, near Katowice. "
I was stunned, unable to make any sound. A slight tremor shook my hands. Naturally, my lawyer rushed into the breach:
─ Well, that changes everything, Madame Justice.
─ is also my opinion, Master Carval, especially since the story of the solo foot bothers me. So I did an audit. The result came from Krakow fax it less than two hours: Milena Zelenkova, the young violinist, shoe size 43 ½ to a size of 1 m 65. The soloist did have big feet and no one had noticed this characteristic. Except your client ...
The judge appointed a paper on his desk blotter.
─ ... Accordingly, I have signed just before the hearing, an order of dismissal ... You're free, Mr. Bizien.
Fergus
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