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"What you and General Simms are suggesting is repugnant," Sarveux said in hoarse indignation.
"Canadian ministers do not go around murdering one another to attain higher office."
Shaw saw that any further argument was fruitless. "I'm sorry I can't offer you more precise information."
"So am I," said Sarveux, his manner quickly becoming cool again. "I'm not convinced a blunder by you or one of your people didn't cause that nasty mess with the Americans on the St. Lawrence. And now you're trying to cover up by throwing the blame on someone else." Shaw felt his anger rising. "I assure you, Prime Minister, that is not the case."
Sarveux stared at Shaw steadily. "Nations are not run on probabilities, Mr. Shaw. Please thank General Simms and tell him to consider the matter dropped. And while you're at it, please inform him I see no reason to pursue the North American Treaty business." Shaw sat astounded. "But, sir, if the Americans find a treaty copy, they can-"
"They won't," Sarveux cut him short. "Good day, Mr. Shaw."
His hands balled into fists, Shaw got up and wordlessly left the room.
As soon as the door latch clicked, Sarveux picked up the phone and dialed a number on his private line.
Forty minutes later, Commissionaire Harold Finn of the Mounties entered the room.
He was an unimpressive little man in rumpled clothes, the sort who is lost in a crowd or melts in with the furniture during a party. His charcoal hair was parted down the middle and contrasted with bushy white eyebrows.
"I'm sorry to have gotten you over here on such short notice," Sarveux apologized.
"No problem," Finn said stonily. He took a chair and began fishing through a briefcase.
Sarveux didn't waste time. "What are your findings?"
Finn unhinged a pair of reading glasses and held them in front of his eyes as he scanned a pair of opened folders. "I have the file on the autopsy and a report on Jean Boucher."
"The man who discovered Jules Guerrier's body?"
"Yes, Guerrier's bodyguard/ chauffeur He found the remains when he went to wake the premier in the morning. The coroner's report states that Guerrier died sometime between nine and ten the previous evening. The autopsy was unable to turn up a specific cause of death."
"Surely they must have some idea?"
"A variety of factors," said Finn, "none conclusive. Jules Guerrier was one step away from the grave.
According to the forensic pathologist who conducted the autopsy, he was suffering from emphysema, gallstones, arteriosclerosis-the latter is what probably killed him-rheumatoid arthritis and cancer of the prostate gland." Finn looked up and smiled thinly. "It was a miracle the man lived as long as he did."
"So Jules died a natural death."
"He had a good excuse for it."
"What about this Jean Boucher?"
Finn read from the report. "Comes from a solid family. Good education. No record of arrests and nothing to indicate an interest in radical causes. Wife and two children, both girls who are married to honest wage earners. Boucher was hired by Guerrier in May of sixty-two. As far as we can determine, he was completely loyal to the premier."
"Do you have any reason to suspect foul play?"
"Frankly, no," replied Finn. "But the death of a well-known personage demands strict attention to details so that no disputes arise at a later date. This case should have been routine. Unfortunately, Boucher threw a wrench into the gears of the investigation."
"In what way?"
"He swears Henri Villon visited Guerrier the night in question and was the last man to see the premier alive."
Sarveux looked bewildered. "That's impossible. Villon made the opening dedication speech at the performing arts center two hundred miles away. He was seen by thousands of people."
"Millions, actually," said Finn. "The event was on national television."
"Could Boucher have murdered Jules and then made up this fairy tale as an alibi?"
