The Frozen Dead Read Online Free PDF

become head of the public prosecutor’s office in Saint-Martin five years earlier and Servaz was sure she did not intend to stop there when she was doing so well: the office in Saint-Martin was too small, too far from the spotlight, for someone whose ambition was as consuming as hers. He was convinced that in the next year or two she would make presiding judge at a more important tribunal.
    Now he asked, ‘Was the body found here, at the power plant?’
    â€˜No,’ answered Maillard, pointing to the ceiling, ‘up there, at the cable car terminus, two thousand metres up.’
    â€˜Who uses the cable car?’
    â€˜The workers who go up to maintain the machines,’ answered the plant manager. ‘It’s a sort of underground factory that functions by itself; it channels the water from the upper lake into the three pressure pipelines you can see outside. The cable car is the only way to get up there under normal circumstances. There is of course the helicopter pad – but that’s only used in the event of a medical emergency.’
    â€˜There’s no path, no road?’
    â€˜There’s a path that goes up there in the summer. In the winter it’s buried under metres of snow.’
    â€˜You mean that whoever did this used the cable car? How does it work?’
    â€˜Nothing could be simpler: there’s a key; then you press a button to start it. And another big red button to bring everything to a halt if there’s a problem.’
    â€˜The keys are kept in a locker, here,’ Maillard interrupted, pointing to a metal box on the wall. ‘It seems to have been forced open. The body had been strung up on the last support tower, at the very top. There can be no doubt: the perpetrator must have used the cable car to transport it.’
    â€˜No fingerprints?’
    â€˜No visible traces, in any case. We’ve got hundreds of latent prints in the cabin. The samples have been sent to the lab. We’re in the process of getting all the employees’ prints to compare them.’
    He nodded.
    â€˜And what was the body like?’
    â€˜Decapitated. And dismembered: the skin peeled back on either side like great wings. You’ll see it on the video: a truly macabre sight. The workers still haven’t recovered.’
    Servaz stared at the gendarme, all his senses suddenly on alert. Even though this was an era of extreme violence, this incident was far from ordinary. He noticed that Captain Ziegler wasn’t saying anything, just listening attentively.
    â€˜Any make-up?’ He shook his hand. ‘Fingertips cut?’
    In French police jargon, ‘make-up’ meant hindering identification of the victim by destroying or removing anything that could be used for ID: face, fingers, teeth …
    The officer opened his eyes wide, astonished.
    â€˜What … you mean they didn’t tell you?’
    Servaz frowned.
    â€˜Tell me what?’
    He saw Maillard cast a panicked look at Ziegler, then the prosecutor.
    â€˜The body,’ stammered the gendarme.
    Servaz felt he was about to lose his patience – but he waited for what came next.
    â€˜It was a horse.’
    *   *   *
    â€˜ A horse? ’
    Servaz looked at the rest of the group, incredulous.
    â€˜Yes. A horse. A thoroughbred, probably a year old, according to what we know.’
    Now it was Servaz’s turn to look at Cathy d’Humières.
    â€˜You made me come all the way up here for a horse? ’
    â€˜I thought you knew,’ she said defensively. ‘Didn’t Canter tell you anything?’
    Servaz thought back to Canter in his office and the way he’d feigned ignorance. He knew. And he also knew that Servaz would have refused to come all this way for a horse, since he had the murder of the homeless man on his hands.
    â€˜I’ve got three kids who’ve murdered a homeless bloke and you drag me up here for a