The Day of the Jackal

After a few minutes the old man’s head came out of the window.

‘Ernestine,’ he called hoarsely, ‘Madame seems to be dead.’

He was about to climb back down again when Ernestine screamed at him to open the bedroom door from the inside. Together they peered over the edge of the coverlet at the eyes staring blankly at the pillow a few inches away from the face.

Ernestine took over.

‘Louison.’

‘Yes, my dear.’

‘Hurry down to the village and fetch Dr Mathieu. Hurry now.’

A few minutes later Louison was pedalling down the drive with all the force his frightened legs could muster. He found Dr Mathieu, who had tended the ills of the people of Haute Chalonnière for over forty years, asleep under the apricot tree at the bottom of his garden, and the old man agreed to come at once. It was past four-thirty when his car clattered into the courtyard of the château and fifteen minutes later when he straightened up from the bed and turned round on the two retainers who stood in the doorway.

‘Madame is dead. Her neck has been broken,’ he quavered. ‘We must fetch the constable.’

Gendarme Caillou was a methodical man. He knew how serious was the job of an officer of the law, and how important it was to get the facts straight. With much licking of his pencil he took statements from Ernestine, Louison and Dr Mathieu as they sat around the kitchen table.

‘There is no doubt,’ he said, when the doctor had signed his statement, ‘that murder has been done. The first suspect is evidently the blond Englishman who has been staying here, and who has disappeared in Madame’s car. I shall report the matter to headquarters in Egletons.’

And he cycled back down the hill.

Claude Lebel rang Commissaire Valentin from Paris at six-thirty.

‘Alors, Valentin?’

‘Nothing yet,’ replied Valentin. ‘We’ve had road blocks up on every road and track leading out of the area since mid-morning. He must be inside the circle somewhere, unless he moved far away after ditching the car. That thrice-damned taxi-driver who drove him out of Egletons on Friday morning has not turned up yet. I’ve got patrols scouring the roads around here for him … Hold it a minute, another report just coming in.’

There was a pause on the line and Lebel could hear Valentin conferring with someone who was speaking quickly. Then Valentin’s voice came back on the line.

‘Name of a dog, what’s going on round here? There’s been a murder.’

‘Where?’ asked Lebel with quickened interest.

‘At a château in the neighbourhood. The report has just come in from the village constable.’

‘Who’s the dead person?’

‘The owner of the château. A woman. Hold on a moment … The Baroness de la Chalonnière.’

Caron watched Lebel go pale.

‘Valentin, listen to me. It’s him. Has he got away from the château yet?’

There was another conference in the police station at Egletons.

‘Yes,’ said Valentin, ‘he drove away this morning in the Baroness’s car. A small Renault. The gardener discovered the body, but not until this afternoon. He thought she must have been sleeping. Then he climbed through the window and found her.’

‘Have you got the number and description of the car?’ asked Lebel.

‘Yes.’

‘Then put out a general alert. There’s no need for secrecy any more. It’s a straight murder hunt now. I’ll put out a nationwide alert for it, but try and pick up the trail near the scene of the crime if you can. Try to get his general direction of flight.’

‘Right, will do. Now we can really get started.’

Lebel hung up.