Retrospective: Paris - How things happened

3.6. Tristan Leroux - Suspicious
Fall 1993, Paris police headquarters

Tristan shuffled mindlessly through the notes in the folder. Mademoiselle West's statement hadn't differed much from his main suspect's. The young lady put it in a lot more words than the young man, but in most parts they matched perfectly. Maybe... too much?
He knew from long years of working in the police force that testimonies on one subject could vary a lot depending on the witness. In fact so much, they could contradict each other without intention. And his job as investigator was to separate the truth from the imagination and belief.
But nevertheless, these two testimonies were astonishingly alike, despite the difference in how they were told.

Mademoiselle West elaborated in wordy descriptions of their walk home this morning. She depicted so many details, Tristan was convinced half of them were made up by her overflowing imagination. He chuckled. Those young girls were all the same and it was easy for him to spot the important information in her picturesque tale.

The man was quite the opposite. It took Leroux many questions and suggestions to get any useful facts out of him.
Tristan sat back and closed his eyes. He recalled the man's every gesture, the crossed arms, slender but strong, the occasional dance of his long fingers with shorter than average fingernails, crossed long legs. Raven-black hair, too long for an honest citizen, that kept falling in his face with every move, no matter how often he tucked it behind his ears, giving a glimpse on his neckline. His mimics, composed, but with a hidden restlessness and a slight curl on his curved lips every time their conversation touched Mademoiselle West. On the other hand, the absence of any emotion when they talked about the poor victim, Monsieur Santiago.

Tristan tried to make sense of that when he had found otherwise so many emotions in the man's golden-brown eyes. Anger, nervosity, fear covered by the determination to be courageous.
And an overall tiredness. Of what? His questions? Tristan went hard on him, but he felt as if it was more a tiredness of life. This man reminded him of the tragic antagonist of old mythology. Proud, but without his usual suspects' cockiness, and afraid, but without losing his composure, so unlike all the other criminals Tristan had interrogated so far.
This young man was a mystery, and Tristan had to dig deeper, to the core of his rotten heart.
Know your culprit and you know your case. That the man was involved in a darker secret, appeared most certain to him, he just had to -

"They're gone now", lieutnant intern Roux entered the room and pulled Tristan out of his ponderings. He looked worried, and Tristan could understand. It must have been hard on him to see the dear friend of his younger sister possibly involved in a crime.
Tristan growled.
"They are hiding something."

Arthur looked at him, openly clueless and like always, Tristan had to explain more to the light-headed lieutnant. He gave a short summary of both testimonies.
"The statements make perfect sense", Arthur said when the inspecteur finished. "And the time is about the same when Charlotte and me met them on the street this morning -"

"What?!"
Arthur almost shrieked back at Tristan's outburst, but then he told him how he had met the two young people.
"And?", Tristan asked impatiently, as soon as the lieutnant intern finished, "Anything suspicious? Were they nervous? Faster breathing than usual? Restless eyes?"
Arthur winced. "Not that I could recall any of those..."
Of course his partner wouldn't, he always lacked the observation skills so neccessary for a police investigator, and Tristan was still surprised how the cheerful blonde had made it so far in this department. Oh, there was something about relations, of course.

"But Charlotte and I have also heard the shots", Arthur continued. "We were worried that Mae would be hurt in one of those gang fights that happened recently. We were so glad to see her unharmed."
"Have you also heard a car?", Tristan asked his younger colleague.
Arthur looked as if he had to think hard. "I'm not sure...", he admitted.

Of course, shots could be louder than a car and therefore heard farther away, depending on the weapon and the type of car.
Tristan would have to question Mademoiselle Roux, too. Maybe Arthur's sister had better memory.
Making up the story of a car that wasn't heard or seen by anyone else would be a stupid idea, but Tristan had already heard a lot of stupid lies from his suspects.

Would this man be also so stupid? His instincts told him he was not.

He paced around the small room in frustration.
No matter how hard they had tried, they had not found any other witnesses. There were not many residencies close to the crime scene, and the few tennants they had questioned so far didn't see anything besides the body of the poor victim on the street. They had been asleep, or gone from home on their night shifts, or god knew to what other dubious establishments when the crime happened. Tristan was grateful one of them had at least the decency to call the police in this rotten part of the town.

"Inspecteur... do you honestly suspect Monsieur De la Cruz to be our vicious murderer?", Arthur asked carefully.

Tristan broke out in a desparate groan.
"And why should I not?! You haven't seen him when I showed him the photos of his dead lover! No reaction, not even a flinch! I don't want to go overboard, but if I must, I could say I sensed a hint of satisfaction on the sight of the marred body of the man he had shared an intimate relationship with!", Tristan laughed bitterly. As if their shameless relationship alone wasn't disgusting enough!

"Neighbours claimed there have been loud arguments between them before. He has left the appartement weeks ago, without having another place to stay. Who would do that? Unless our poor vicitm had thrown him out for a reason unknown to us yet! I am more than convinced that this man has a strong motive to murder his ex-lover, I just have to find out exactly what has been going on between them!"
This man was depraved through and through, no matter how handsome his face and sad his eyes were.

Arthur furrowed his brows. "But if he is our culprit, then that must mean their testimony is false. And I cannot believe Mae would lie to protect a criminal - no, that doesn't look like her at all! If I was asked on the stand, I would put my hand in a fire for this girl!"
And Arthur must have known her well, he had spent much time with her while watching over his younger sister, but -
"A young innocent lady can be corrupted so easily by a pair of fiery amber eyes", Tristan shot back. In particular, when they had so much expression, so much passion -
He resumed his restless pacing.
"But he is not interested in women, we have found that out already - ", Arthur still tried to protest, but Tristan didn't give him that chance. "That doesn't mean he wouldn't take advantage of one, if he could. Don't forget he's living under her roof at this time."

Arthur sighed, and Tristan felt almost guilty for the misery of his partner. "Arthur - I am not saying that their statement is completely false. Maybe it's just a tiny detail. Maybe he convinced her to just forget that one small detail that would help us close the case, and Mademoiselle West trusts him without knowing the consequences. Maybe their statement is even correct, and he killed his ex-lover before Mademoiselle West arrived at their meeting point, and the 'shots' they heard were in fact, an engine backfiring and a lucky coincidence he took advantage of to distract us and her from the truth -" and in this case the connard had even the nerve to rub it under his nose!
Arthur looked a little happier, at least. "It might be", he agreed, "the time frame for the victim's death would allow this. But we will still have to prove this, and I cannot think of how, without any other witnesses."

"As usual, my dear colleague, we will have to make them talk until they get entangled so much in their own lies that they cannot get out of them anymore and eventually tell us the truth", Tristan stated with grim confidence.
And it also wouldn't hurt to have someone watch over that connard. Not Arthur of course, he wouldn't recognize anything important if it was presented to him on a silver plate. But Tristan knew just the right man for that task.

Arthur sighed. "In all respect to you, but I still don't believe this young man is our murderer. It's just a feeling", he added feebly.
Oh, that poor lieutnant intern. Tristan wasn't sure where the younger man would be without his guidance. Arthur was so guillable and always saw the good in everyone, even the worst and conscience-lacking criminal.

"Time will tell, Arthur. We must be patient and do everything in our power to find the truth." And by truth he meant the hard facts that proved that this man was indeed the murderer.
There was so much filth and deprivation in this world, and he, inspecteur Tristan Leroux of the préfecture de police de Paris, would fight it until his very last breath.