And when they were found, personal savings crumbled. Retirement funds disappeared. People were ruined. Often elderly people who could never recoup.
It was tragic and intentional. A fraud, a theft, committed not just over years but over lunches, dinners, weddings, bar mitzvahs, and christenings. As the adviser. The accountant. The manager. Got closer and closer to the family. All the while stealing from them.
After all, who else could cheat you of everything except someone you never questioned?
Gamache stared at the papers, then at the blank screen. Then looked around the comfortable study.
Finally he got up.
“Call Taylor and Ogilvy,” said Beauvoir, also getting to his feet, as did Agent Cloutier. “Find out what you can about Anthony Baumgartner. But be discreet.”
“Yessir.”
“And find out everything you can about Baumgartner’s own finances. His accounts, hidden or otherwise.”
“Oui, patron.” Her voice was crisp, efficient. Excited.
This she could do. And do well.
Gamache followed Beauvoir back to the living room.
When he’d been called away, Gamache had had one question he needed to ask. Now there were many.
CHAPTER 25
They stared at Chief Inspector Beauvoir as though he’d lost his mind.
As though, like Gamache earlier in the day, he’d lapsed into a language that did not actually exist.
“Tony?” said Adrienne. “Steal from clients?” She almost laughed. “Of course not.”
She looked at Caroline and Hugo, who were also shaking their heads.
“You didn’t know my brother,” said Caroline. “He could never do such a thing. He volunteered at a hospice, for heaven’s sake.”
It was a non sequitur, though not altogether nonsense. Gamache knew the point she was trying to make.
Only a terrible person would steal from clients. Her brother did a beautiful thing by volunteering in a hospice. Hence he was not a terrible person.
It, of course, did not track. A shocking number of criminals were, in other areas of their lives, model citizens.
“Monsieur?” Beauvoir turned to Hugo Baumgartner.
Gamache was listening and watching. Paying close attention.
“I could believe it of myself before I could believe it of Tony,” he said. “There’s absolutely no way he’d do anything unethical, never mind criminal.”
“Out of interest’s sake.” Beauvoir turned back to Caroline. “Before he came out, did you know he was gay?”
She shook her head, baffled by the change of topic.
Beauvoir looked at Adrienne and Hugo, who also shook their heads.
“Is it possible, then,” he said quietly, “you don’t know your brother as well as you thought?”
Caroline’s cheeks reddened immediately, and Hugo looked, for the first time, angry.
“It’s not the same thing,” said Hugo. “One is nature and has no effect on character. The other is choice. People choose to break the law. They don’t choose to be gay. Just because my brother was gay doesn’t make him a criminal.”
“I wasn’t saying that, sir, and I suspect you know it,” said Beauvoir, keeping his voice steady, though with a slight inflection of annoyance. “The point I was making is that your brother was very good at keeping secrets. He led two private lives, why not two professional ones? And would you even know?”
“Then why did you ask?” asked Adrienne.
But Gamache knew the answer to that. Beauvoir asked because he knew that the answer would tell them more about the family than about the victim.
Hugo glanced down the corridor. Then back at Beauvoir.
“You found something in his study, didn’t you? Let me see. I can straighten you out. Explain anything that might look odd or incriminating.”
Chief Inspector Beauvoir considered for a moment, then said, “Come with me.”
They all did. Caroline leading the pack.
“A moment, madame.” Beauvoir stopped her from entering the study.
Going in first, he had a word with Agent Cloutier, who was on the phone. She nodded, then left the room.
Caroline and Hugo entered with Beauvoir, but Adrienne stopped at the doorway, not realizing, perhaps, that Gamache stood behind her.
This was Anthony Baumgartner’s private space. His sanctuary. The well-worn leather chair in front of the fireplace had taken on his form. There was the laptop on his desk. The books on the shelves. The photos of private family moments and of business triumphs.
This room even looked like him. Elegant. Masculine. Comfortable. Slightly playful, with the orange shag rug.
Watching her sag, Gamache was struck by how much this woman really did love this man. It was, he thought, the sort of intense love that could curve back on itself and turn to hate.
“Is this all you have?” asked Hugo, pointing to the papers beside the laptop.
“It is,” said Beauvoir, not cowed by the tone.
“He was working on his clients’ accounts,” said Hugo. “That’s all.”
“At home?” asked Beauvoir.
“Well, it’s unusual,” admitted Hugo. “But you could just as easily conclude that he was hyper-responsible. Doing things for his clients in his own time. This isn’t evidence of any crime. Just the opposite.”
“Why paper?”
“Pardon?”
“If he was working on a client’s statement, wouldn’t he do it on the computer?”
“Some people prefer a printout,” said Hugo. “Especially those of us who are older. I often have spreadsheets printed out. Easier to study them.”
“Spreadsheets, yes,” said Beauvoir. “But not a statement. Is that fair?”
Hugo shrugged. “We all have our systems. How you can look at these few pages and decide my brother was stealing, is … well, I have to say, unfair. He’s the victim. Not the criminal.”
“Merci, monsieur,” said Beauvoir. “Now the laptop. Do you know his password?”
The Baumgartners looked at each other and shook their heads.
“The children’s names?” suggested Adrienne.
“The house number?” said Caroline.
Without realizing it, Beauvoir suspected they’d just given away their own codes.
Once again Hugo was silent. But his eyes kept returning to the pile of statements.
“I have a question,” said Gamache from the doorway, and he saw Adrienne startle at the sound of his voice behind her.
“Your accounts.” He looked at Caroline. “Who has them now?”
It was the question he’d wanted to ask for a while, and now he watched her closely.
There was a long pause.
“They’re with me, Chief Superintendent,” said Hugo.
“Why did you really take your money from Anthony?” Gamache continued to look at Caroline. “You said it was because you didn’t want to mix family and business. That obviously wasn’t true.”
“Hugo and I have always been closer,” she said. “It felt natural.”
“And that would make sense if you’d started with Hugo, but you didn’t. Your money was first with Anthony, but something made you take it away from him. What was it?”
His voice was reasonable. Not betraying the fact he’d just cornered her.
“Anthony and I had a falling-out,” she said.
“About what?”
“Does it matter?” asked Hugo.
“Do you know why she moved her money from your brother to you?” Gamache asked, turning his considerable attention to Hugo, who immediately regretted saying anything.
“It was her decision. I had nothing to do with it. And I certainly didn’t poach her.”
“That wasn’t my question,” said Gamache. Though it was an interesting answer.
“Sir?”
Agent Cloutier had returned. She was holding her phone to her palm, muffling any sound.
“Not now,” said Beauvoir. “Wait for us in the living room.”
“Yessir.”
She left, holding the phone in front of her as though it might explode in her hands.
“Now.” Beauvoir turned back to the Baumgartners. “Chief Superintendent Gamache asked you a question.”