Page 183
“Don’t be. He’s not doing any harm and it makes him feel useful.” She watched her husband for a moment. “We’re the lucky ones.”
Armand followed her back down the hall and into the living room, where Beauvoir was waiting.
“We found this.” He handed Armand a book.
Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds.
“Yes, I’ve seen it,” said Armand, a bit perplexed.
“But have you seen this, patron?”
Beauvoir opened it to the title page. “For Colette, with love and eternal gratitude, Paul.”
He looked at Colette. “Paul?”
“My husband, Jean-Paul.”
“My name is Jean-Guy. No one calls me Guy.”
“And I’ve never heard you call your husband Paul,” said Armand. “Even now, it was Jean-Paul.”
“It was a joke between us,” she said. “Long ago. May I?” She reached out and Beauvoir gave her the book.
Armand gestured toward a seating area by the window. There was activity all around them as Sûreté officers went through the home.
“Who’s Paul, Colette?”
“I’ve already told you.”
“We can do a handwriting analysis you know.”
She considered for a moment, looking at the book, closed on her lap. “Paul Robinson. As I think you guessed.”
“So why lie?”
“Because I can see what you’re thinking. He and I were close, but not that close.”
“He signed the book, With love.”
“Don’t you love your friends?”
“Why was he eternally grateful? What had you done?”
“I looked out for Abigail at Oxford. He appreciated that.”
“Eternally?”
When she didn’t reply, Armand nodded toward Jean-Guy, who showed her the picture on his phone.
She smiled. “I haven’t seen that for years. Look at him. So happy. He always wore a bow tie, you know. A noeud papillon.” She stared at the photograph, mesmerized. “That was taken at the conference in Victoria. His last happy day, last happy few hours.”
The last one, thought Armand. “Before?”
“Before going home and giving Maria a sandwich for dinner. She choked to death on it. But you knew that too. You’re not thinking . . .”
“What?”
She cocked her head to one side and studied him. “Why’re you interested in Paul? In that picture?” She paused. “You’re not thinking that there was more to it? You think Paul did it deliberately?” When both Gamache and Beauvoir continued to watch her, she gave a bark of laughter. “You think I did it?”