A Better Man
- Автор: Пенни Луиза
- Серия: Chief Inspector Gamache #15
- Год: 2019
- Язык: английский
- Год: St. Martin's Publishing Group
- ISBN: 9781466873711
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «A Better Man». Краткое содержание книги:
It's Gamache's first day back as head of the homicide department, a job he temporarily shares with his previous second-in-command, Jean-Guy Beauvoir. Floodwaters are rising across the province. In the middle of the turmoil, a father approaches Gamache, pleading for help in finding his daughter.
As crisis piles upon crisis, Gamache tries to hold off the encroaching chaos, and realizes the search for Vivienne Godin should be abandoned. But with a daughter of his own, he finds himself developing a profound, and perhaps unwise, empathy for her distraught father.
Increasingly hounded by the question, how would you feel..., he resumes the search.
As the rivers rise, and the social media onslaught against Gamache becomes crueler, a body is discovered. And in the tumult, mistakes are made.
In the next novel in this constantly surprising series that deepens and darkens as it evolves (The New York Times Book Review), Gamache must face a horrific possibility, and a burning question.
What would you do if your child's killer walked free?
“You knew it?”
“From hunting. Yes. It was close to her home and private.”
Gamache said nothing. They were almost there. Almost.
“It was summer. Dark. Hot. She was there when I arrived.”
“You had sex?”
“We made love.”
But that wasn’t the end. Not yet. Not even close.
“You confronted Tracey outside the bar in town,” said Gamache. “More than once.”
“Yes.” Cameron was defiant, still far from willing to admit it was wrong.
“You told him to stop hurting his wife.”
“Yes.”
“It didn’t work, of course. As she predicted, it only made it worse,” said Gamache.
“Yes.”
“When did your affair start?”
“Last July.”
“How often did you meet?”
“Every Saturday night. At midnight. By then Tracey was drunk and passed out.”
“And your wife? Didn’t she suspect?”
“I always took the Saturday-night shift at work. No one else wanted it. It was quiet, so I could get away.”
“Last Saturday night?”
“No, no, you don’t understand. I broke it off. In the fall.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to lose my family. My job.” He paused. “Have I lost them?”
“Why didn’t you tell us this?”
“I knew you suspected—”
“You knew because I came right out and asked, and you denied it.”
“Because I knew how it would look. And I knew I hadn’t killed her. Vivienne was gone. Carl Tracey killed her. Admitting the affair would just muddy things. Hurt the investigation.”
“You mean hurt you.”
“No.”
“She was calling you.” Gamache pushed. “You’d given her your private cell-phone number. You told her only to call in an emergency. And she hadn’t called. Hadn’t needed to, until that night. She told her husband she was going to meet her lover—”
“Not me.”
“The father of her child—”
“Not me.”
Hearing the anger in Cameron’s voice, Henri got to his feet and turned to face him. A low, low growl in his chest. Little Gracie stood beside him, all eyes. Barely larger than Cameron’s boot, she tried to stare down the man who loomed over them.
“Stop lying.” Gamache dropped his hand to Henri’s head. To reassure him. “It was your number she was trying to call. The affair wasn’t over, was it?”
“It was.”
“She wanted to meet you earlier. That’s why she called.” Something about that statement gave Gamache a moment’s pause. But he had to press on. “She didn’t get through to you, because she’d written your number down wrong. One digit was off. So she showed up at the prearranged time. Midnight. And there you were. For the regular assignation.”
“No.”
“Expecting sex. Instead she told you she was pregnant and the child was yours. She might even have believed it. She told you she was leaving her husband, for you. She had her duffel bag over her shoulder. All packed. Had been for months, waiting for the right time. And this was it.”
“No.” Cameron shot to his feet.
Gamache could see the veins throbbing on Cameron’s forehead as the big man tried to control his anger.
“It was over. I wasn’t there.”
Gamache also got up. And got right into Cameron’s space. Into his face. “What did she do? Threaten to go to your wife? Your work? And when she refused to just go away, you pushed her.”
“No.”
“You pushed a pregnant woman to her death.”
“No, never!”
Cameron heaved off and gave Gamache a mighty shove. Propelling him backward.
Henri barked and crouched, prepared to lunge.
“Henri, stay!” Gamache commanded as he regained his balance.
And Henri did. As did Gracie. Just. It clearly went against their every instinct.
Because he was prepared for it, had intentionally provoked it, Gamache had staggered but managed to keep to his feet, despite the force of the blow.
Which was far more than a young woman taken by surprise could possibly have done.
“Vivienne happened,” said Lysette Cloutier.
Lacoste recognized the look in Cloutier’s eyes. It was the expression of someone who’d made up her mind to walk off a cliff. And was just about to do it.
Still, Isabelle coaxed her forward. “Go on.”
“Homer and I hadn’t been intimate yet, but it was close. We finally admitted our feelings. I wonder if you know what that’s like? To be in love with someone for years, maybe decades, and then, in your forties, to have those feelings returned. It felt like a miracle. It was a miracle. But Homer said he owed it to Vivienne to tell her, before we took it further.”
Lysette lowered her head and narrowed her eyes. Then she raised her head. High. And looked directly at Superintendent Lacoste.
“I didn’t kill her.”
“What happened?” Lacoste asked.
She noticed that Beauvoir had turned back to his laptop and was reading something. A message. But she kept her focus on the middle-aged accountant–cum–homicide agent. Cum suspect. In front of her.
“Vivienne told him to break it off.”
And there it was.
“Why?”
“Why did she do anything?” Long trapped deep inside, Cloutier’s demons finally split the sinews and came tumbling out. “Because she was weak and afraid and needy and manipulative.”
“What was she afraid of?”
“Of not being the center of Homer’s life. She’d managed to come between Homer and Kathy, and now she came between us. I should’ve seen it coming, but I thought it was specific to her mother. A teenage thing. She was all grown up now. Married. It never occurred to me she’d tell him it was her or me.”
“Is that what she said?”
“Yes.”
“And what did Homer do?”
“You know what he did. He broke it off.”
“He chose his grown married daughter over a woman he loved?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Obviously he didn’t love me enough. Didn’t love me as much.”
“As much as Vivienne?”
“As much as I loved him.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. He just said we couldn’t see each other anymore.”
“And you accepted that?”
“What could I do?”
Lacoste looked at her. They both knew what she could’ve done. Might’ve done.
“How long ago was that?”
“Almost a year ago. We haven’t seen each other since then. Until he emailed and told me Vivienne was missing.”
“Where were you on Saturday?”
“It was my day off. I was at home doing laundry. Chores.”
“Alone?”
Lysette nodded. Always alone.
“Did you go down to see Vivienne? To confront her?”
“Of course not. It was over and done with almost a year ago. Why would I do it now? What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying things grow. Fester. Time doesn’t always heal. Sometimes it makes things worse. Is that what happened to you, Lysette?”
“Of course not.”
“Did you think about it, about him, every day?”
“No.”
“Did you think about what might’ve been, if Vivienne hadn’t done that? How your life would be so different?”
“No.”
“Did you arrange to meet her? Offer her something she wanted?”
“No.”
“Money, maybe?”
“No.”
“Did she suggest the bridge?”
“No.”
“Did you push her off?”
“No!”
“Did you want her dead?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
As soon as Reine-Marie walked into the kitchen, she could see she was interrupting.