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After the coroner’s vehicle drove away, Vivienne’s father closed his eyes and tilted his head as far back as it would go. Exposing his throat to the Universe.
“Chief Inspector?” said Beauvoir as he came around the corner from the path along the river.
He indicated Homer, clearly in custody, by the car.
“I’ll explain,” said Gamache, then instructed Cameron to take Godin into the local detachment. “Don’t book him. I’ll be in to do the paperwork later. Make him comfortable, but don’t let him out of your sight.”
Cameron turned to Homer. “I’m sorry, sir. Would you mind?”
Homer got into the backseat without complaint.
As Cameron went to walk to the driver’s side, Gamache stopped him.
“One moment, please. I have a question for you.” He led Cameron a few feet from the car. “Was the child yours?”
Cameron’s eyes widened. “No, of course not. I told you, nothing happened between Vivienne and me.”
“You knew she was pregnant before we said anything. She told you. Is the child yours? Tell me the truth.”
“I am. It’s not mine. Couldn’t be.”
“I think you’re lying. I think there’s a lot you aren’t telling us. I understand you’re worried about your family. Your job. But you know it’ll come out. Best if you tell us yourself.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Gamache pressed his lips together and gave a single curt nod. “You’re helping a murderer.”
“How?”
“By muddying the waters. By leaving questions unanswered. Questions we have to now take precious time investigating.”
“I have answered them.”
“But not truthfully.”
Gamache made a mental note to call the Alouettes organization and ask why they’d let Bob Cameron go. And why no other football team picked him up.
“May I go with him, sir?” Lysette Cloutier asked Chief Inspector Beauvoir.
He looked at her a moment. “Why?”
“Why? Because he’s my friend. He’s just lost his daughter.”
Beauvoir nodded. “Is it possible, Agent Cloutier, that you’re more than friends?”
“More…? Non. I care about him, but his wife was the one who was my friend. My best friend. I was maid of honor at their wedding.”
“When did she die?”
“Five years ago. Ovarian cancer.”
“I’m sorry.” He paused. “You’ve kept up a relationship with Monsieur Godin?”
“There is no relationship. Not in the way I think you mean. We’re old friends, that’s all.” On seeing Beauvoir’s skepticism, she pressed her lips together before nodding. “All right, you’re right. But my relationship isn’t with Homer, it’s with Vivienne. She was my goddaughter.”
She dropped her gaze and studied her muddy boots before lifting her head and looking him straight in the eyes. Perhaps, he thought, a little too straight.
“I should’ve told you sooner, but I was afraid.”
