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He walked in, slowly, carefully, with Gamache right beside him. Both seasoned officers scanned the room. Looking for a killer.
They found him passed out, drunk, on the bed. In a puddle of his own vomit.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The arraignment was held the next morning, in Superior Court at the Palais de justice in Montréal.
Once he’d sobered up, Carl Tracey had been given a shower and a change of clothes. He spent the night at the Cowansville detachment, where he’d been booked for murder.
From there, early in the morning, he’d been driven to a cell in the Montréal courthouse.
Chief Inspectors Beauvoir and Gamache met there first thing and interviewed him, with his court-appointed lawyer present. Predictably, his lawyer told him not to say anything. Equally predictably, Tracey couldn’t help but talk.
After Tracey claimed he had nothing to do with Vivienne’s death, Beauvoir presented him with Pauline Vachon’s statement.
“She says you talked about killing your wife—”
Tracey snorted. “Who doesn’t say that every now and then?”
“I don’t,” said Chief Inspector Beauvoir.
“You will.”
Beauvoir knew he shouldn’t let this man get up his nose, but Tracey was firmly lodged there. That smug, weaselly look. From a man who’d just killed his wife and unborn child.
“You know nothing—” Beauvoir began.
“Chief Inspector,” said Gamache, a warning in his voice.
Carl Tracey turned to Gamache. “I wouldn’t kill my own wife. Too obvious. But someone else’s … That was your wife in that village, right? Looks like you and I have something in common. That bruise on her face?”
Gamache grew very still, very quiet. Then he turned back to Beauvoir, who was staring, dumbfounded by what Tracey just said.
The lawyer ended the session there.
Beauvoir and Gamache walked down the hallway. Finally Gamache spoke.
“He’ll confess.”
“You think?”
“Oui. He’s a foolish, weak man. If he doesn’t actually mean to confess, he’ll incriminate himself with his bravado. He’ll hang himself.”
“If only.”
Gamache glanced at Beauvoir but said nothing.
They stood as the judge took her seat.
The prosecutor, with Chief Inspector Beauvoir beside him, was on one side of the courtroom. Tracey and his lawyer on the other.
Gamache and Agent Cloutier sat immediately behind the prosecution desk, with Homer Godin between them. Behind them sat Simone Fleury with at least twenty other women.
Young. Middle-aged. Elderly. Stony-faced.
Valkyries. Warrior Fates. Magnificent and terrifying.
Gamache caught Madame Fleury’s eye. She nodded.
