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Gamache gave a small grunt of amusement.
They’d arrived at the elevator, Beauvoir blanched. “You first.”
“I’ll take the stairs, merci,” said Gamache.
“Me, too.”
Beauvoir took them two at a time, arriving at the top wheezing.
Gamache walked up slowly. Arriving at the top with another question.
Could Stephen have discovered Alexander Plessner, his friend and colleague, ransacking his apartment, and killed him? Is that what he was doing in the hours before dinner?
CHAPTER 21
Oh, God,” said Annie, lowering herself into the armchair in her living room. “That feels better.”
She and Honoré had had their naps, then invited Daniel and Roslyn and the girls around for tea.
“Okay,” she said, looking at her brother. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your answers to the investigator. Not very satisfactory.”
“She practically accused me, us, of killing Stephen for his money. That didn’t upset you?”
“She had to ask,” said Annie. “They’re legitimate questions. We know the truth.”
“Tell that to Dad. He piled on fast enough.”
“He was trying to save you, you asshole. Sorry, it’s the baby talking.” She placed her hand on her belly.
“Are you carrying the anti-Christ?” Daniel asked, and Annie laughed.
“Dad just wanted to give you another chance to say what everyone in that room, especially the cops, knew to be true. That corporations get away with murder.”
“Still, he could’ve let it go, but instead he deliberately made me look bad.”
“Really? You can’t believe that, you fuckhead.”
“The baby again?” asked Roslyn.
“No, that was all me,” said Annie. “You made yourself look bad, and while we’re on the subject, the baby wants to know how the hell you can afford that new apartment?”
“You want to know?” said Daniel, getting red in the face. His daughters looked over, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.
Lowering his voice, and making his tone friendly, he said, “It’s none of your business, but I’ll tell you anyway.” As he spoke, he ticked the points off on his fingers. “We saved up. I got a raise. Ros has a great job, and I get a favorable mortgage rate from my own bank. Satisfied?”
“I’m happy for you. For both of you. I really am. But you have to see that it looks suspicious. Why didn’t you tell the cops all this? It looks like you knew you were going to come into money when Stephen died. Dad was trying to help you.”
Daniel shook his head.
Honoré walked over to Daniel, offering his uncle the toy duck his godmother, Ruth, had given him when they’d left Québec.
When squeezed, it said “duck.” They thought. They hoped.
“Merci,” said Daniel, taking it. He squeezed it twice and Honoré laughed.
