A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15)(63)

She raised her hands. No.

“And the blood work?” Beauvoir asked.

“Very preliminary. None of the more detailed results yet, but I can tell you that she’d been drinking.”

“She was drunk?” asked Beauvoir.

“No, but she’d had a few ounces of alcohol shortly before her death. No sign of drugs. But if there’re just traces, that won’t show up until I get the detailed report. I’ve put a rush on it, and we should have something by later this afternoon.”

“Can you ask them to check for this?” Beauvoir brought out the pill bottle in its sterile baggie.

Dr. Harris examined it while Gamache walked back to Vivienne’s body.

He looked down at her, at the wounds caused by the river. By the fall. By her husband. And by the coroner. Who’d cut into this young woman in an effort to find out who’d caused the other wounds.

He picked up her hand, to tuck it next to her body and draw the sheet over her.

The hand was, as he expected, cold. It would have shocked him to the core had Vivienne’s hand been warm.

He held it for a moment and realized he was, unconsciously, trying to comfort her. He noticed then that there was a gash on her palm.

“Doctor, what’s this? It looks like a defensive wound.”

“Not from a knife,” she said, joining him. “Too jagged.”

“Could it have been caused by reaching out for the railing,” Gamache asked. “And having it break?”

Dr. Harris lifted up Vivienne’s hand to take a closer look.

Then, stepping away from the body, Dr. Harris stood straight and lifted both hands in front of her.

Anyone would have thought she was being threatened by the two S?reté officers.

Her face was intent. Her body rigid in feigned alarm. Then she leaned away from them and reached behind her. With her right hand.

“What height is the railing?”

“Ninety-eight centimeters,” said Beauvoir.

Dr. Harris adjusted her hand to just over three feet off the floor. Then she nodded and walked over to her desk.

Doing quick calculations of Vivienne Godin’s height. The height of the railing. The angle of the cut on her hand and the likely trajectory of her body. The coroner then returned to the metal slab.

“What’s the thickness of the handrail?”

Beauvoir needed to consult his notes for that and gave the dimension to her.

Harris measured the wound and reexamined it closely.

“Still no splinters, but I’ll do a microscopic examination. There might be something wedged into the flesh. It looks likely that it was caused when she fell and not when she was in the water.”

“How can you tell that?” asked Beauvoir, stepping closer.

“Because the cut starts here”—Harris pointed to just above Vivienne’s wrist, where the palm began—“and tears up to her middle finger. It would be unlikely a cut like this would be made when a person was going headfirst down the river. Her hands would be out in front of her, if possible, and a cut would go from fingers down, not wrist up.”

“You think it was made when she was going backward, not forward,” said Gamache, also moving closer. He put his glasses back on.

“I do.”

“So Vivienne was pushed backward while on the bridge,” said Beauvoir, and when Dr. Harris didn’t contradict him, he went on. “She reached for the railing”—he also mimicked the action—“to stop herself, and it broke.”

There was what felt like an eternal silence while the two S?reté officers stared at the coroner. And the careful coroner considered.

“Probably.”

“Yes.” Beauvoir clenched both fists in excitement, knowing what that would mean to their investigation.

“Probably,” said Gamache, more cautious. “But not definitive?”

“No. It’s likely that’s what happened. I could testify to it. But the defense could argue that it was caused in the water. That her body was twisting around so it was at times going backward down the river, and that’s when the cut was made. It would be difficult, but just possible. I’d have to testify to that, too.”

“What do you need to be sure?” asked Gamache.

“What we don’t have. A splinter that matches the wood from the railing.” Then she paused. “You say it was rotten?”

“Oui,” said Beauvoir. Perking up. Noticing the slight shift in her tone. “Very.”

“Do you have a sample?”

“We’ve removed that whole section. It’s in the lab.”

“Good. Have them test for spores. For algae. For microscopic traces of organisms. Lots of things make their home in rotting wood. And flesh. I’ll take samples from the cut and test as well. It’s possible not everything was flushed out. We’ll see if what’s found on the wood matches what’s in the cut.”

“And if it does, that would place her on that bridge,” said Gamache. “Going backward through the railing. It would prove the wound wasn’t made after she went into the water.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“But,” said Gamache.

“But,” said Beauvoir, looking at him. Knowing what he was thinking and coming to the same conclusion.