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“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.

And it did.

Finally Beauvoir stood up and yanked his coat from the back of his chair.

“Nothing. Let’s go speak to Homer about this money. Maybe something will come up.”