I Puri — Delitti in Occitania

The dawn of the new day began to unfurl over the massive Pyrenean peaks of Ariège, which dominated the wooded hills, wide valleys, and grassy plateaus in the distance, here and there dotted with conifers and tall trees, through which the D613 departmental road wound its way. The black of the sky rapidly faded into a clear blue, adorned with the subtle watercolor of small white clouds, a premonition of a pleasant summer day. Paul Ramasset, the young driver for Le pain du monde bakery in Foix, was, as usual, driving along the single carriageway, deserted at that hour, in his white van marked on both sides with the somewhat naive drawing of a triangle of golden baguettes with perfect grigne, framing the globe. He was ahead of his delivery schedule and, near the crossroads for Barri d'Aval, decided to pull over into a clearing overlooking the ruins of an ancient, semi-dilapidated parish church to smoke a cigarette and enjoy the spectacle of the sunrise. Paul was always moved by the rising sun and the world filling with color. It reminded him of his Juliette waking up, eagerly awaiting their first child. The sun was now completely round on the horizon, and he had to resume his journey. He took a couple of steps towards the church to stub out his cigarette butt against an old concave stone. That's when he saw it. Something was hanging above the ancient entrance of the church, stretched along the dilapidated wall. He approached, gripped by curiosity and the terror of what he had begun to imagine. An old man with a gray head, completely naked, had been crucified upside down on two large poles fixed in the center, in an X shape, with his feet and hands nailed to the four ends. The cross was suspended at the top by two thick mooring ropes, which emerged from a window. Paul stood frozen. Then, he retched. Agitated, he took out his phone and dialed the number for the Police National.