Murder on the Ile Saint-Louis Read Online Free PDF

woman followed behind her, carrying armfuls of leaflets. Brigitte turned and exchanged looks with the man.
    “I just got here,” Krzysztof said.
    “Just got here?” Brigitte said. “You’re rummaging in the files. How did you get in?”
    He stepped back in alarm. “Someone has ransacked the office—the door was left open.”
    The look on Brigitte’s face chilled him.
    “I think you did this and now you’re trying to make it look—”
    “Brigitte,” the woman said, stepping forward. “Give him a chance to speak.”
    “You think I’d do this?” He choked. “The movement’s my life, you know that.”
    “You’re a dilettante who’s been hanging around here for a few weeks,” Brigitte said. “A student fired up with big ideas for a peace vigil that backfired. Did you know that Gaelle’s in the hospital?”
    “Gaelle tried to talk to the CRS, I wanted to stop her . . .”
    Brigitte shook her head. “Our coalition formed MondeFocus years ago. Since then we’ve done painstaking, backbreaking work, building our reputation for factual opposition to the destroyers of the environment, careful never to become involved in violence, and you’ve shot it all to hell in one night!”
    “You have to listen to me,” said Krzysztof. “The files containing the evidence were stolen.”
    Brigitte asked, “Why didn’t you obtain the permit for the vigil?”
    He nodded. “But I did . . . they revoked it.”
    “Then you supplied false information, didn’t you? To make sure they’d revoke the permit,” Brigitte said.
    Where was the copy of his application? Where had he put it? He raked his pockets with shaking hands but only came up with a used Metro ticket and a few centimes. He looked at the long-haired man. “Pascal, you showed me how to apply and gave me the form to fill out. You saw the application!”
    Brigitte turned to Pascal.
    “Eh, get your facts straight,” Pascal said, his voice charged with anger. “Giving you a form isn’t seeing how you filled it out and whether you submitted it.”
    Krzysztof reeled at the look of doubt in Brigitte’s eyes. “But I told you, they granted the permit,” he said. He appealed to Pascal again. “You and I were together the day I picked up the permit at the Préfecture, Pascal. We’ve been sabotaged!”
    “And pigs have wings. Remember the first thing I said? Get the Préfet’s signature. Bet you didn’t follow through, eh?”
    He’d tried so hard, fought with his uncle, even missed his physics exam. And now Gaelle was hurt and he was being blamed for everything that had gone wrong. And if they didn’t do something to find the real saboteurs, the agreement would be signed.
    A man stumbled into the office, his shirt wet and bloodied. Blood dripped from his swollen nose. He stared at the mess, then his gaze settled on Krzysztof. He pointed his finger, stabbing the air. “You, you’re the one!”
    “Hold on, Franck, you’re bleeding,” Brigitte said, grabbing a first-aid kit from the items scattered on the floor.
    “It’s him,” Franck said. “The TV crew showed me the video.”
    “What do you mean?” Brigitte asked.
    “He carried the bottle bombs in his backpack,” he said, pointing a shaking finger. “It’s on film, I saw it.”
    Krzysztof was terror stricken. He struggled to breathe. “A blonde asked me to carry her backpack. I didn’t know it held bottle bombs. She was a plant, don’t you see?”
    “No, I don’t see,” Brigitte said. “You came here as a volunteer. We have other causes you could have worked on but you’ve been fixated on the oil conference. Only that interested you.”
    Orla. He had to tell them about the information she’d promised.
    “Le Pen’s right wing hired you,” Brigitte accused him. “They’ll stop at nothing to discredit our movement. I should have suspected! You have all the hallmarks of the scum intello student saboteurs the right wing plants to disparage us.”
    Perspiration dampened his