Louis Shalako
One of the neat things about writing the Inspector
Gilles Maintenon Mystery Series is that the author can do anything.
One of Gilles Maintenon’s habits is developing new
talent.
Right now he’s got some young gendarme, dragged into
the case from what would normally be traffic duties. Due to the nature of crime
and investigation, a scene sometimes has to be secured, and with a murder at
the Palais Garnier, it’s a big
building. Bedard spent his shift guarding a side door. Constable Bedard has some seniority. He’s eligible to write the
sergeant’s exam, with a pretty good chance of a posting if he passes. It’s a
big department, and if he played his cards right, he could end up anywhere he
really wanted. People are saying he has a brain in his head and he’s obviously
destined for better things.
Maintenon is having a look at the man, giving him a
bit of rope and responsibility. Let’s be honest. Everyone wants to work
homicide. This is the top of the heap in policing.
There are times, when what is noir fiction has a bit
of warmth. Cops are human beings after all, and Gilles has no children of his
own. His wife died not that long ago. The times, the man being what they were, he has no real way to express his love.
His only outlet is his work, the job and the people around him.
Maintenon lived through the Great War, which bled France. He was at Verdun, a Holocaust of artillery, machine-gun fire and frontal infantry attacks. That was the whole purpose
of some battles—to bleed the enemy until he had no more men to put in front of
the guns…
Writing historical fiction can produce some strong
emotions, and I like that very much. It keeps it interesting, to read as well
as to write. My point is that Maintenon saw all too many kids like Bedard die.
He was right beside them when it happened.
That’s just the way it was.
Some people hate cops, and certainly criminals have
much to fear from them.
It’s a tough job and you need to be doing it for the
right reasons. There’s not a lot of macho
bullshit in a Maintenon mystery. Corny as it sounds, the best possible
reason to become a cop would be service
to one’s fellow man. That’s the sort of thing that a guy like Inspector
Gilles Maintenon would take pretty damned seriously. Cops need honour or they
become very dangerous.
No one needs that.
To Maintenon, who’s been around the block once or
twice, good cops are worth their weight in diamonds. And no one likes to work
with the real assholes anyways, as they inevitably drag down to their own level
all around them.
So far, Constable Bedard’s been doing all right, to
the extent that they’ve got him in plainclothes, he’s driving the boss around
and making all kinds of sensible contributions.
The young fellow is learning a lot and getting some experience.
I have every confidence that the team will solve the
mystery, the murder of opera singer Largo Banzini, by blowgun-dart, in front of
two thousand witnesses at the premier performance of The Golden Dragon. If you’ve been following along, that opera was
written by the (fictional) French composer Fosse.
Here’s a link to another book in the series, Speak
Softly My Love.
Thank
you for reading.
END
