Stop-and-detain bulletins had gone out on Didier Marthe, with warnings that he was armed and dangerous, but he wasn’t about to hold his breath. Such bulletins often relied on the stupidity of criminals doing something to bring them to the attention of the police, rather than a thinly spread police force spotting a face in a crowd.He had twice driven down to the marais and sat staring at the lodge in impotent silence, aware that if he followed his instincts and broke in, he would probably have to suffer the consequences of discovering that Massin was no longer able to help him. Yet deep inside, he knew there was a connection somewhere that could propel the case forward, if only he could risk taking the plunge. Even so, he had driven away both times, aware that ending his career here through an act of impulse would solve nothing in the long run. He had relied on Claude to trawl the village for any snippets of gossip about Didier, but that had also proved unhelpful. The man had hardly set out to make himself popular since his arrival a few years ago and cared nothing about public opinion.In the end, out of a sense of frustration, he rang Michel Santer, seeking any information he could provide on Philippe Berbier.
