Past Imperfect (42 page)

Dominic was eager to help, contemplating a diary busy with reasons to see Monique stretching out ahead. By the next day, he had an appointment arranged with the manager at Banque Agricole du Vars, Bertrand Entienne. Monique gripped his hand again and this time kissed him on both cheeks.

A handful of meetings and already his feelings for her were running strong. Not only was she beautiful, but warm and compassionate, sincere. He hadn't met a woman like her before. He wondered if she had any of the same feelings for him - then quickly shook his head. He was being ridiculous. He hardly knew her, nor she him. It was a relationship so far based entirely on reliance and help. If he failed with the bank manager and his little scheme evaporated, there would hardly be any reason for her to see him again, he reminded himself soberly.

Bertrand Entienne was in his early forties with dark brown hair greased back and a rounded, slightly ruddied face. He smoked a pipe and his gestures were curt and formal as he showed them into his office. But at least he was smiling, looked eager to help, Dominic thought hopefully.

It didn't take long for the smile to disappear as Dominic explained the proposition.

'I'm sorry, we appear to be at crossed purposes,' Entienne commented. 'I thought you were here with a proposition to clear the loan in full. Some sort of sale or other arrangement going through. I would have thought my last letters were quite clear that that is all the bank would be able to accept at this stage.'

Dominic ignored the rebuff and pressed on, explaining politely that Monique Rosselot had tried for four months to sell the property with no success. The market was severely depressed, it could be many months before a buyer was found, if at all. 'Surely it's better to get something secure now, get a rescheduled loan on track with the secure knowledge that all the future repayments will be met.'

Entienne rested his pipe in an ashtray to one side. He opened his hands out. 'I would if I could, but it's impossible. The papers went through to the judiciaire department a few weeks ago. My last letter I thought explained very clearly that this action was impending. Once the papers are with them, there's nothing I can do. It's out of my hands.' Arms folded again, hands inter-clasped. A closed gesture.

Dominic was sure it was still just an opening gambit. That Entienne would soften his stance once he'd seen some figures. 'I managed to work everything out.' Dominic passed across the folder he'd worked on earlier. 'As you will see, all of the fresh payments are covered, plus the back payments are amortized in either three or four years. I suppose that could be adjusted to two years in the bank's favour if need be.' But Dominic could tell that Entienne was paying scant attention as he pointed out the key figures on the schedule.

Entienne shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but the intervention by the judiciaire department makes consideration of this sort of suggestion out of the question. Once the file is with them, the loan is due in full as part of the preparation for court action. Also, there's far higher interest accruing to cover the extra costs of the legal department's action. So these figures are already inaccurate, I'm afraid.'

Dominic asked what sort of levels of interest. Entienne opened a file before him and perched some glasses on the end of his nose as he scanned down the columns. He picked up his pipe for another few pulls as he read out some figures.

Dominic added them together and felt his stomach sink. It was outrageous: 42% per annum. Almost as bad as a Marseille loan shark. 'And what other options are there, apart from paying the loan in full before the papers are passed through for court action?'

'Hardly any, I'm afraid. If all the back money and accrued higher interest are cleared straightaway, a continuance on the existing schedule might be possible. But it will still have to go before the bank's loan committee, with no guarantees. And a week or so from now, even that option will probably be gone. The papers will be too far advanced. You see, in any court papers the bank is obliged to press for the full amount.'

Dominic was outraged. But he remained outwardly calm, explained that it would be virtually impossible for Madame Rosselot to find that sort of money at such short notice. He tried yet again to sell the virtue of the rental and a rescheduled loan. 'The tenant is extremely reliable. It would give the bank a firm schedule now, she could probably clear two back payments straightaway from the deposit as a gesture of good faith, and everything would roll forward cleanly from that point.'

Entienne wouldn't budge. Clearly he wasn't bluffing. 'I'm really sorry. But there's nothing I can do. Perhaps if you'd come here one or two months back, things would have been different.'

Dominic felt deflated. Monique was glancing down at the floor, embarrassed at the exchange. He'd let her down. He tried one last desperate plea. 'Surely even from the bank's point of view, what I am suggesting is far better than waiting on for a sale in such an uncertain market. There would be no guarantee at all of a buyer materializing before the due court date.'

Entienne's face flushed slightly, impatient now at Dominic's persistence. His hands unfolded and quickly back again. 'That, I'm afraid, will be a problem to be resolved between Madame Rosselot and the bank's judiciaire department. As I've explained to you already, Monsieur Fornier, quite clearly I thought, it really is all out of my hands now.'

Dominic saw red. Entienne's smug attitude. The pipe, the glasses, the hands folded over the folder - all defences against confrontation with real life and humanity. How to ruin lives without getting involved. He felt like leaping across and burying his fist in the middle of Entienne's smug little face.

Dominic took a long breath. 'Let me explain something to you, Monsieur Entienne - hopefully equally as clearly. Probably you know of the Rosselots, or at least as much as your little folder will tell you. What you might or might not know is that two years ago Monique Rosselot lost her only son - victim of a murder. I was one of the investigating officers. Then, just a few months ago, she lost her husband to suicide. Either he couldn't face life without his beloved son, or perhaps the demand letters you kept sending him pushed him over the brink.'

'I am quite aware of the situ-'

Dominic held one hand up sharply. 'Yes, yes - I'm quite sure that you are, Monsieur Entienne. That is obvious by your attitude today.' Entienne, already uncomfortable at the path the conversation was taking, glowered at the sarcasm. 'Monsieur Rosselot made a loan agreement with this bank almost three years ago. But he is no longer here and his commitments have fallen behind. And faced with that, Mrs Rosselot has summoned both the bravery and the good faith to come here today. Not only her first visit but her first proposal to this bank. A very clear and straightforward offer, I might add. With what she has suffered, with the loss of her son and her husband, she has had to make a lot of adjustments with her life - and all that she is asking today is that the bank make some small adjustments and meet her halfway.'

Entienne continued glowering. His hands were clasped even tighter than before. 'I'm sorry. As I've already explained, there really is nothing I can do.'

'You put everything forward to the legal department, what - three or four weeks ago? Are you really trying to tell me that you don't have the power to reverse what you enacted in the first place?'

'It's not as simple as that. I would have to argue a strong case to get the file back from judiciaire and approved by the loan committee. Such as I mentioned to you before - if
all
the money and penalty interest were cleared almost immediately.'

'And don't you think this is a strong enough case to argue: a young mother who has lost her son and her husband.'

Entienne shrugged uncomfortably. 'It's difficult to introduce such personal situations at this level with other departments. Behind every file there's a story, some sort of tragedy.'

'Oh, so now we're getting closer to the truth. It's not impossible, it's just awkward. You're willing to sacrifice what's left of a family's life so that you're not faced with any awkwardness - anything that might look bad on your future record - in front of the judiciaire and the loan committee.'

Entienne's glower had turned to abject hatred. He smiled tightly. 'As with you, Monsieur Fornier, I am just a functionary. As you are bound to impose the rules of French law, I have to follow the rules of the bank. I'm sorry. I wish things were different.'

No options left, thought Dominic. He'd tried being nice, both gentle and harsh cajolement, the candy bar and the sledgehammer. Entienne wasn't going to shift. They left.

'
Shithead
!' Dominic spluttered under his breath once they were outside. 'I'm sorry. I probably did more harm than good in there.'

Monique gripped his hand and pecked him on each cheek, said that she was touched by how he had stood up for her. 'Don't feel so bad. You did your best.'

But in the end it had all been impotent bravado, he thought; none of it had done an ounce of good. Worse still, he'd probably alienated Entienne so strongly that he'd block any chances of later compromises over the loan, if they arose.

As she walked away, he wondered how on earth she was going to cope with this new crisis on top of all else. It also struck him with a sinking feeling that he'd messed up so badly, she might not want to see him again.

'Fucking shits! All of them. Especially at the Agricole du Vars. And that Entienne's a prize dry prick. I could have told you that for nothing before you went to see him.'

Louis' insight into the world of local banking. Bauriac's regular
'Standard and Poors'
, expletive version. Just what Dominic needed to make him feel good, especially since three beers and two brandy chasers had so far failed miserably. His anger at Entienne burned with a vengeance, and Louis happily stoked with stories about banks in general and Agricole du Var and Entienne in particular.

'I wouldn't be too surprised if one of the du Var bank directors has his eye on the property. They know she's a widow, won't be able to find a lump sum easily.' Louis had seen it all before. It had happened to a friend of his. The director after the property ensures it's pushed it into the legal department early, high interest mounts up, the court fees add even more - in the end it's an impossible mountain of cash to find. The prices at auction are rock bottom and the bank director picks it up at little more than half price. 'It's a legal racket. What with the high interest and the court fees, my friend was left with virtually nothing from the auction.'

Dominic looked into his drink for inspiration. He could see practically the same scenario rolling out ahead for Monique, with nothing but an outright sale of the farm to stop it. 'What's the average time for a farm to sell in this area?'

'The market's never been worse. Eight, ten months - sometimes a lot longer. People have them on the market with no takers as much as two years before giving up and taking them back off again.'

Louis returned to his diatribe about the banks, in particular Entienne's hypocrisy because of his current situation with a young mistress. Dominic was only half listening. Eight months? Four had gone already. Could Monique make it in the four remaining? Dominic suddenly snapped himself back to Louis' conversation. 'What was that you said?'

'What - the girl, or about Entienne being a fucking hypocrite?'

'The girl. How long has it been going on?'

'Practically a year now.'

'And does his wife know. How many people
do
know?'

'His wife certainly has no idea. The rest's just a few guarded whispers around the village. Maybe it will get back to his wife eventually, maybe it won't.'

'Do they have any particular meeting places, or does it change each time?'

'She works at the jewellers not far away from him, but she walks around the opposite block from the bank and he usually picks her up there.' Louis leant slightly across the bar. 'Apparently they head to the l'Espigoulier hotel on the way to Aubagne. He makes the excuse of having a long lunch with clients.'

'Which days?'

'Mondays and Thursdays.'

The following Thursday lunch time, Dominic turned his solex into the car park of the l'Espigoulier Hotel. He had already identified Entienne's Citreön from in front of the bank and, sure enough, it was there. Dominic swung the solex out of the car park and fifty yards along to the first turn-off. And waited.

It was a small slip road and very few cars passed him. Probably thought that he was checking for cars speeding. It was over forty minutes before Entienne's car emerged.

Dominic revved up the solex. He would have to time his exit perfectly - too soon and he could go under Entienne's wheels.

Entienne's car turned out, was starting to pick up speed.
Okay... now!

Dominic flew out of the slip road and into the side of Entienne's car. In the end, his worry about being too early had made him time it slightly too late - instead of sprawling across the bonnet, he hit the windshield, one knee smashing through the passenger window as he spun dramatically over the top of the car and down the far side.

The fall looked good and Dominic broke it with his hands the far side. But he'd connected badly with the windshield, one shoulder felt stiff and his nose had banged against the glass; it was bleeding profusely, soaking his shirt. Still, all the better for effect, he thought as he straightened up.

Dominic feigned dizziness for the first thirty seconds, as if he was having trouble orienting what had happened and where he was. Entienne was in shock at first before turning his attention to the girl beside him. Her initial hysterical screams had subsided into sobbing.

Entienne got out slowly as Dominic took out a pad and started making notes. In that instant, beyond the blood and Dominic's dishevelled appearance, he recognized Dominic and mouthed, 'Oh, it's ...' Then quickly bit his tongue and fumbled into '...are you all right? I'm sorry, I just didn't see you. You came out of nowhere.' Apology quickly turned to anger. 'What on earth were you thinking of, coming out suddenly like that?'