The secret of the Indian pentagram 03

In Laurent's office, a second, unoccupied desk had been present for quite some time. Rumors had circulated that the young officer had been infatuated with his superior, as his behavior had been conspicuously unusual. Laurent was an exceedingly tolerant individual and found no great fault in being admired. However, the employee crossed a boundary when, despite reprimands, he continued to gaze at his boss's muscular buttocks whenever he moved about the office. Due to this inappropriate conduct, Robert had to vacate his seat and was transferred to Flic en Flac.

"Robert, we must part ways. I've already signed your transfer. I believe you'll be better suited at the police station in Flic en Flac. The colleagues there are quite easygoing, and besides, you can cool off in the sea. The station is not far from the village's beach," Laurent stated.

By now, Laurent had grown accustomed to such occasional occurrences. When he told Bernadette about it, she burst into hearty laughter.

"You're just a seductive fellow. And on top of that, well-mannered, humorous, open-minded, and tolerant. You're athletic, standing at 1.90 meters tall, and your trousers seem ready to burst with energy," she playfully remarked.
His dark hair hinted at a touch of gray, and his lightly bronzed complexion added an exotic touch, drawing attention from both ladies and certain gentlemen.

Laurent gave her a mischievous glance, his dark eyes gleaming as a cheeky grin spread across his face. His gaze wandered to her firm, petite breasts.

"I only speak French with you; I handle daily tasks in English," he responded with a sly tone. Bernadette embraced him lovingly and kissed him passionately.

Laurent excelled in his investigations, a fact that could drive envious souls to despair. Somehow, he always stayed one step ahead of them. He leaned back, intertwining his arms behind his head. Only a soft, "Hmm, hmm, hmm," escaped his lips.
Then he leaned over the desk, picking up one of the close-ups taken at the crime scene. A shot of Véronique Vervier's shoulder blade, adorned with a tattooed pentagram. He gazed at it repeatedly, lost in thought.