Armand Gamache never, ever, made the mistake of demonizing strong women. Indeed, he’d been raised by one, married one, promoted one. But he was far from certain he trusted this one.
He took a few steps back and examined her, trying to figure out if she was sincere in her suspicions of him or just trying to toss the rock back.
“What’s at Highwater?” he asked.
“Are you threatening me?” she asked. And she looked genuinely alarmed.
It was not the reaction he’d expected.
He’d hoped to speak to Lacoste and Beauvoir first, but when he saw them leaving Three Pines that morning, he’d made the call himself to Agent Yvette Nichol, a former colleague in the Sûreté. He asked her to track the movements of the CSIS investigators the day before through their cell phones. She reported back half an hour ago.
Instead of spending the day examining Gerald Bull’s Supergun, or searching for the plans, the pings from their cell phones indicated Mary Fraser and Sean Delorme had driven twenty miles away, to the village of Highwater, right on the Vermont border.
“Is what I said threatening?” Gamache asked. “I had no idea. My apologies.”
He left, feeling her eyes on his back until he was out the door of the small library.
He knew where he was going next.
He didn’t get there.
Armand Gamache got as far as the front porch of the bed and breakfast when he saw Lacoste and Beauvoir return. Their car slowed, pulled over, and Jean-Guy leaned.
“We need to talk,” both men said at once.
“I’ll come over to the Incident Room,” said Gamache. He could tell by their faces that something had happened.
As the car pulled away, he noticed a copy of Fleming’s play on the backseat, its cover covered with scribbled notes.
Lacoste and Beauvoir were waiting for him beside the car as he walked across the bridge to the old railway station.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“You first,” said Lacoste as they went inside and took seats at the conference table.
“I know where the CSIS agents went yesterday,” said Gamache. “I asked Agent Nichol to track their cell phones. I realize I was overstepping—”
Lacoste smiled and held up a hand to stop the apology. “Please, don’t. We want your help.”
Gamache gave a curt nod. “They went to a place called Highwater. It’s in Québec, close to the border with Vermont, about thirty kilometers from here.”
“Do you know it?” Jean-Guy asked, getting up to consult the huge map tacked to the wall.
“No,” he said, joining Beauvoir along with Lacoste. He pointed it out, having already looked it up. “I’ve never been there. I gather it’s pretty small.”
“Hmmm,” said Lacoste. “Any idea what they were doing there? Meeting someone?”
“Could be,” said Gamache, as they returned to their chairs. “They stayed in one place for most of the day, then came straight back. Your turn.”
“Antoinette Lemaitre’s been murdered,” said Isabelle Lacoste, and saw the shock on Gamache’s face. “I know she was a friend of yours.”
He sat back in his chair and stared at them. Taking it in. “What happened?”
“The place was ransacked,” said Beauvoir. “Looks like she interrupted a robbery, or it was made to look like that. She seems to have fallen and hit her head on the corner of the fireplace. Dr. Harris says it happened last night between nine thirty and two thirty in the morning.”
“She was supposed to be at Clara’s,” said Armand. “But she called to cancel. I wonder if the killer—”
“—also thought she’d be at Clara’s and the place would be empty?” asked Lacoste. “Could be.”
Beauvoir excused himself to make some calls while Lacoste told Gamache, succinctly, the story as they understood it so far. Gamache was quiet, focused. Not taking notes, but taking it all in.
“We asked the neighbors if they saw anything but they were all watching Les Filles de Caleb.”
“Maybe Antoinette asked her guests to come at that time for that very reason. She wanted to make sure no one saw them arrive,” said Beauvoir, returning.
“But why would it be a secret if it was just members of the theater company?” asked Gamache.
“Because it wasn’t,” said Beauvoir. “I called them just now. Neither has heard from Antoinette since they quit. So either Antoinette lied to Brian or he lied to us.”
“But he must’ve known we’d find out,” said Lacoste. She thought for a moment. “It’s more likely Antoinette lied to him about who was coming over.”
“And why?” said Gamache. “Who could her visitors have been?”
“And did they kill her?” said Beauvoir. “It seems likely. But they were running a risk. Suppose Antoinette told Brian who was really coming over?”
“They must’ve known she wouldn’t tell him the truth,” said Lacoste. “Which means it was something she wanted to keep secret.”
“Something shameful?” suggested Beauvoir, tossing out ideas. “Something illegal or unethical? An affair?”
They stared at each other. Then Gamache’s eyes were drawn to the script. So much seemed to circle back to it. The goddamned play.
Beauvoir followed the glance. “Yes, we were wondering the same thing. Could her death have something to do with the Fleming play? Were they looking for it? Does that explain the mess in their home? Brian had taken it to Montréal, but they couldn’t have known that.”
Gamache got up. “I’ve almost finished reading it. There’s nothing hidden in the plot that I can see. Do you need me for anything? I was going to drive to Highwater, but it’s getting late, and with this news, I think I’ll stay here. Do you mind if I tell Reine-Marie?”
“No. In fact, we might as well tell everyone,” said Lacoste, joining him. “I’ll come with you and start the interviews.”
“There’s something else you need to know, Isabelle.”
He stopped, and she turned to him. “I asked Mary Fraser about Highwater. They know that we know they were there.”
“And her reaction?”
“She asked if I was threatening her.”
“Huh,” said Lacoste. “That’s strange. I wonder what she meant.”
“I wonder what’s in Highwater.”
“I’ll look it up when I get back to the Incident Room.”
“You have other things to do,” he said. “I can look it up. I still have my security codes.”
“Oh, the damage you could do, patron,” Lacoste said, with a smile.
“Funnily enough, Mary Fraser seems to think the same thing. She all but accused me of being involved in Laurent’s death and somehow involved in the hunt for Gerald Bull’s Supergun.”
“If she thinks that she’s crazy.”
“She’s complex,” he said. “I was talking with an old friend at CSIS just a week or so ago. I’ll call her up again and have Mary Fraser and Sean Delorme checked out, on the quiet of course. But there’s something else. They know you were the one who leaked the information about Project Babylon.”
Isabelle Lacoste’s eyes widened, just a bit, and she sighed. “Well, bound to happen. I’m not worried.”
But she looked worried. As well she should be, thought Armand as they walked into the quiet village and parted ways. He was beginning to think Mary Fraser was not someone you wanted on the other side. The question was, which side was she on?
CHAPTER 25
Clara Morrow sank onto the chair in the bistro. She’d been having drinks with a few friends, including Myrna, when Isabelle Lacoste had come in.