Page 87
“The duck.”
Despite himself, the image of Rosa in the rocking chair smoking a corncob pipe, with a tiny shotgun across her knees, made Jean-Guy smile.
It would definitely scare the merde out of him.
Gamache sent an agent down to the basement with the head of security to search the janitors’ room and Gaston Comeau’s locker while he himself stood just inside Jeanette Bouchard’s small windowless office.
His hand in his pocket was fiddling with a slip of paper. Bringing it out, he saw it was the list of London vintage clothing shops Brian Fillmore browsed.
He took a photo of it and sent it to an agent, asking them to follow up.
Then he stepped away to let the team get on with their work while he got on with his.
“Come with me,” he said to Charles Fillmore, and walked down the corridor, not looking to see if he was followed.
“Sit down.”
Charles hesitated, then sat.
Armand had taken him into the break room and locked the door. The two men now sat facing each other across the Formica table.
“You’ve lied over and over, Monsieur Fillmore—”
“No, no—” But Armand held up his hand to stop him.
“I know your brother visited Clara Morrow, claiming to be a relative. A short time later, he disappears.” Fillmore made to interrupt, but Gamache held up his hand. “Your investigator also went to Three Pines, visiting Clara Morrow—”
“Wait. What? What’re you talking about?”
“Jeanette Bouchard was there shortly after Brian left. She claimed to be a fellow artist writing an article on Peter Morrow. What was she looking for?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t know anyone from Réunion was there. Why would she visit Clara Morrow?”
“Why did your brother? You knew he went down, didn’t you. And yet you lied to me. Said he’d never met Clara Morrow.”
Charles was shaking his head. “I don’t know. He asked me not to say anything, not until he knew for sure.”
“Knew what?”
“I don’t know. He was excited. Look, what excites Brian and what excites others is very different. He loves finding things out.”
“To use against people?”
“No, never. He isn’t like that. He’s…” Silence. “Nice. Decent. He loves the search. He loves books and libraries and archives. Maps and old documents. He could care less about money or power or things. You show me a rabbit hole, and I’ll show you a place my brother would happily jump down.”
“So he went to Three Pines to find something out?”
“Yes.”
“You must know what. Look, if that body is that of your brother—”
Charles waved his hands in front of his face, as though that would dispel the dreadful words.
Armand decided to change tack.
“Why is Jeanette Bouchard in France? What’s there?”
“I have no idea. I’d never heard of her before you mentioned her name. Look, the day-to-day investigations, the genealogical research, isn’t my interest or job. I look after the business end. This’s all news to me.” His voice had risen to a plea. “Please, stop badgering me. I can’t take this all in.”
