Chapter 87

           ThefireplaceinChâteauVillette’sdrawingroomwascold,butColletpacedbeforeitnonethelessashereadthefaxesfromInterpol.Notatallwhatheexpected.AndréVernet,accordingtoofficialrecords,wasamodelcitizen.Nopolicerecordnotevenaparkingticket.EducatedatprepschoolandtheSorbonne,hehadacumlaudedegreeininternationalfinance.InterpolsaidVernet’snameappearedinthenewspapersfromtimetotime,butalwaysinapositivelight.ApparentlythemanhadhelpeddesignthesecurityparametersthatkepttheDepositoryBankofZurichaleaderintheultramodernworldofelectronicsecurity.Vernet’screditcardrecordsshowedapenchantforartbooks,expensivewine,andclassicalCD’smostlyBrahmswhichheapparentlyenjoyedonanexceptionallyhigh-endstereosystemhehadpurchasedseveralyearsago.

           Zero,Colletsighed.

           TheonlyredflagtonightfromInterpolhadbeenasetoffingerprintsthatapparentlybelongedtoTeabing’sservant.ThechiefPTSexaminerwasreadingthereportinacomfortablechairacrosstheroom.

           Colletlookedover.«Anything?»

           Theexaminershrugged.«PrintsbelongtoRémyLegaludec.Wantedforpettycrime.Nothingserious.Lookslikehegotkickedoutofuniversityforrewiringphonejackstogetfreeservice…laterdidsomepettytheft.Breakingandentering.Skippedoutonahospitalbillonceforanemergencytracheotomy.»Heglancedup,chuckling.«Peanutallergy.»

           Colletnodded,recallingapoliceinvestigationintoarestaurantthathadfailedtonotateonitsmenuthatthechilirecipecontainedpeanutoil.

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