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?
“So who’s telling the truth?” asked Lacoste. “Lysette or Homer?”
The senior officers had walked to the incident room, where they could talk without fear of being overheard.
“Maybe Homer gave Lysette the impression that Vivienne wouldn’t approve,” said Beauvoir. “Without actually saying it.”
“You mean he blamed his daughter?” asked Lacoste. “Is he that much of a coward?”
Beauvoir remained silent, not bothering to tell her how often he’d made up all sorts of far-fetched stories to get out of relationships. Granted, that was when he was younger.
“Could happen” was all he said.
“Or maybe Homer didn’t outright blame his daughter,” said Gamache, “but Cloutier did. Maybe it was easier on her feelings to think Vivienne forced it, rather than that the man she loved rejected her.”
“Easier to blame someone she already didn’t like,” said Lacoste. “And she might’ve even believed it.”
“If she really got it into her head that Vivienne stood between her and Homer,” said Beauvoir, “that sort of thing can eat away at a person. You said it yourself, patron. It’s a simple, clean motive. Most are.”
It was true. When the mist and smoke and fireworks dissipated, what was left in a murder investigation could be rendered down to a few words. Greed. Hate. Jealousy.
But really, it was even simpler than that. Even those words had a common parent.
Fear.
Cameron was afraid of losing his family.
Cloutier was afraid of losing Homer.
Pauline Vachon was afraid of losing her ticket out.
Carl Tracey was afraid of losing his home, his studio, his pottery.
If Vivienne lived.
“But how would they set up the meeting?” said Beauvoir. “There’s no record of a call between Cloutier and Vivienne.”
“True,” said Lacoste.
They’d checked all the calls into and out of the farmhouse, going back months. It was not as arduous as it sounded. There were hardly any, and those there were, were easily traced.
“One of the things I don’t understand,” said Gamache, “is why Vivienne didn’t leave earlier.”
“She had to get up courage,” said Lacoste, a little surprised by the question. “We’ve talked about this. Lots of abused women never leave—” Her phone buzzed. “Sorry. Allô?”
“A message just came in,” said Agent Cloutier. “I’d asked the forensic accountants to look into the bank accounts of all the people involved.”
“Yes? And?” asked Lacoste.
“I’ve forwarded it to you.”
Lacoste went to her emails. “Got it.” She clicked on it. “What’m I looking at?”
She waved the others over to her laptop.
Gamache and Beauvoir bent and stared at the screen while Lacoste put Cloutier on speaker.
“Scroll down,” said Cloutier. “To the bottom link.”
Lacoste did, and clicked. “But this’s Monsieur Godin’s bank account.”
“I didn’t ask for it to be part of the search,” explained Cloutier. “But his name must’ve been on the list of people involved in the case. So the forensic accountant included him, I guess.”
They looked at the numbers. Twenty thousand dollars had been transferred into Homer Godin’s bank account on Friday. And taken out in cash that afternoon.
“It’s a mortgage loan,” said Cloutier. “You can tell by the code attached to the transfer. He must’ve taken it out against his house.”
“Why?” asked Beauvoir.
“I don’t know,” said Cloutier. “But I thought you should see it.”
“Anything in the other accounts?” asked Lacoste.
“Tracey’s massively overdrawn, and Pauline’s credit cards are maxed out.”
“And Vivienne was sitting with eighteen thousand dollars in her account,” said Beauvoir.
“And twenty thousand in cash with Homer,” said Lacoste. “Merci.”
Lacoste hung up, and Beauvoir looked at Gamache, who’d cocked his head to one side. Considering.
“Must’ve been for Vivienne,” said Lacoste. “Don’t you think? She knew she was leaving Carl and asked her father for more money.”
“When? And wasn’t the eighteen thousand enough?” asked Beauvoir. “This would give her almost forty thousand. Why would she need that much? And in cash? And why didn’t he tell us about it?”
“He had other things on his mind,” said Lacoste.
“And he just forgot about the twenty thousand?”
“Maybe he did tell us,” said Gamache. “Well, not us exactly, but Lysette Cloutier. She says they hadn’t kept in touch since he broke it off, but that might not be true. Homer didn’t say they’d lost touch. Maybe he asked her advice on how to raise the money.”
“Yes, she’s a trained accountant, after all,” said Lacoste. “So he asked her, and she told him about the home loan. Maybe that was the final straw for Cloutier.”
Beauvoir was nodding now. Following the logic. “She could see that Vivienne wasn’t just ruining their lives but now was bleeding her dad dry. So she arranges to meet her.”
“To kill her?” asked Lacoste.
“No, probably not. But to have it out with her, finally.”
“Why would Vivienne agree to that?”
“Maybe Cloutier told her she had the money,” suggested Beauvoir. “Vivienne chose a spot close by, where she’d had private meetings before.”
“The bridge,” said Lacoste.
“The bridge,” he said.
Despite her affection for the woman, Lacoste could see it now. Could see how an uncomfortable confrontation could spiral out of control.
“Only Cloutier was lying,” said Beauvoir. “She didn’t really have the cash, of course. When Vivienne realized that, she’d be furious. Might’ve even attacked Cloutier, who pushed her away.”
And through the railing.
“But if it was all triggered by that twenty thousand, why would she tell us about it now?” asked Lacoste.
“She’d have no choice,” said Gamache. “The information was in the email about all the finances. She’d know we’d work it out. What I’m still wondering is why Homer didn’t say anything about that loan.”
“He might’ve worried that it made Vivienne look bad,” said Beauvoir. “And it does. Taking so much money from her father, then running away with a married lover.”
“No. It makes her look like a woman who’s been beaten for years and was now desperate to save herself and her unborn child,” snapped Lacoste. “Was it a series of decisions a healthy person would make? Probably not. But who can say what any of us would do to survive? You want to know what I think actually happened?”
She looked at her two colleagues.
“Please,” said Gamache.
“I think we were right all along, and this’s just complicating things. I think Carl Tracey killed his wife. Maybe he knew about that secret account, maybe he didn’t. Either way, he wanted to get rid of her. With Pauline Vachon’s help, they came up with the plan to throw her into the river. And you know what?”
“What?” said Beauvoir.
“He might be a moron, but it looks like it worked. We can’t get him. He’s going to walk free.”
“Oh, shit,” said Jean-Guy, hanging his head.
Isabelle was right.
“I think we need to speak to Homer,” said Gamache. “Find out about the money. At least this’s new, and admissible.”
“Yeah,” said Beauvoir, getting up. “Untainted by that goddamned poisonous tree. But before we do, I want to go back over the evidence one more time.”
“Again?” asked Lacoste. “I have it memorized.”
“Again,” said Beauvoir. “I’m not giving up on Tracey yet. There’s something in there we’ve missed.”
They spent the next hour sifting through evidence. Testimony. Events. They knew it by heart. They knew it was futile. That the search would prove fruitless.