Lucien Orsatti

Lucien Orsatti is 55 and spent twenty of those years in uniform, as a gendarmegendarme Police officer from a military force with civilian duties, typical of France and other countries. in Corsica, before joining the family's security. Born in Bastia, the son of a fisherman, he learned early that a man who speaks little hears what no one wants him to hear. Distrustful by trade and by nature, he treats everyone as a suspect and hates being treated that way himself.

He lives alone in a low-ceilinged apartment in Cap-d'Ail, with a balcony facing the sea and a worn leather sofa in front of a television that is always off. In the kitchen, an aluminum Italian coffee pot he sends back to Corsica for repair, a bundle of old letters tied with string and a photograph of a fishing boat that belonged to his father. He eats little lunch, dines late, and says the apartment is only good for storing his clothes and his silence.

He is stocky with a thick neck, a weathered dark face, a short gray beard and thinning black hair slicked back with gel. He has the dark circles of a poor sleeper and wears a rumpled charcoal suit with a loose tie, a two-way radio in his jacket pocket and a bunch of keys on his belt. He speaks little, in a report-like tone, and pauses long after each question, as if checking the meaning before answering.

About the house's security, his account is that of a professional: an alarm panel on every door and window, cameras in the lobby and the garage, none upstairs by the employer's order, and in the armored room a steel door with a code and a latch on the inside that no firefighter can open without a torch. If anyone wants to accuse him, he says, let them bring a signed paper, and until then watch their tongue. With the whole penthouse sealed and no cameras up there by the employer's order, nobody can say for certain where each person was during the small hours.

Lucien knows the head of security, in a house that burned without a break-in, is the first to be summoned and the last to be heard. When the detective asks whether he opened the door for someone, the gendarmegendarme Police officer from a military force with civilian duties, typical of France and other countries. returns to his tone and he recalls his twenty years in uniform. It could be the honor of an old policeman who won't be treated like a criminal. It could be someone who knows what each answer costs. The detective will have to decide which.