All the Devils Are Here(52)

“Then what’s his interest?” asked Daniel.

Gamache looked at Fontaine to answer. It seemed Claude Dussault had, quite rightly, briefed her on their discussion, and their suspicions. He was very interested to see how much Commander Fontaine would say.

But even as he looked to her, she was studying him.

The man confused her.

She didn’t like that.

She didn’t like Gamache’s ease and natural authority. She didn’t like his accent. She sure didn’t like that he seemed oblivious to the fact that he was not their equal, socially, culturally, intellectually, professionally. Couldn’t be. Not coming from Canada. Not coming from Québec.

She didn’t like his relationship, his close friendship, with the Prefect.

She didn’t like that when something bad had happened in the past twenty-four hours, Armand Gamache wasn’t far behind.

And she sure didn’t like that she actually liked the man. That her instinct was to trust him. The Prefect had warned her about that.

“We have no idea why he wanted to go to the board meeting,” admitted Fontaine. “But you know Monsieur Horowitz. Was it more likely he planned to go to congratulate them on their success? Or to expose some wrongdoing? What’s more in character?”

It was clear by their expressions that they knew the answer to that.

“That’s what we thought. But he can’t go now. One question we ask in a homicide is, who benefits? Isn’t that right?”

She’d turned to Gamache, who nodded.

“Who benefits if Monsieur Horowitz is killed?” she went on. “It seems clear that GHS Engineering does.”

“But what could he have on them?” Annie asked.

“We don’t know, and right now the specifics don’t matter. What matters is motive. And it seems GHS had a big one. Silence a whistle-blower.”

“You’re guessing,” said Beauvoir. “Look, you could be right, GHS might be behind it. But there’re all sorts of people who might want Stephen Horowitz dead. He’s made a lot of enemies.”

“That’s true,” admitted Fontaine. “But there’s only one company he was planning to visit just before the attempt on his life. You know, of course, that a dead man was found in Monsieur Horowitz’s home this morning. His name is Alexander Francis Plessner.”

She was speaking directly, and exclusively, to Annie and Daniel. Watching them closely.

“Does the name mean anything to you?”

The siblings looked at each other, then back to the investigator, shaking their heads.

“No,” said Annie. “Should it?”

Armand’s brows lowered as he watched the investigator examine his children.

Fontaine turned her focus on Annie. “Are you sure?”

Annie’s face opened in surprise. “Alexander Plessner? I’ve never heard of him.”

Fontaine continued to stare at her.

“What’s this about?” Gamache asked of Fontaine. “Do you know something?”

She turned to him.

This was clearly the Chief Inspector’s Achilles’ heel. His family. She knew it. And he knew it.

“I know that your daughter’s firm handles his business in Paris. Did he help you get your position there?”

“I’ve never heard of the man,” Annie repeated. “Not personally, not professionally. But I can help you get whatever information it’s legal to give out.”

Good for you, Armand thought.

“That won’t be necessary. Merci.” Fontaine turned to Daniel. “And you, sir? Do you know him?”

Daniel frowned in concentration, then shook his head. “Sorry. No. Was he a friend of Stephen’s?”

“Alexander Plessner was an investor. Venture capital mostly.”

It took a force of will for Armand not to look in Daniel’s direction.

“Ahh, then he might’ve had investments with some GHS subsidiary,” said Daniel. “Maybe he invested in one of their riskier ventures.”

And now his father did look over at Daniel.

He’d just had time, before the investigators had arrived, to warn them not to volunteer information, no matter how banal it might seem. Answer the Commander’s questions honestly, but not more than was asked.

Everything can be misinterpreted.

“This’s very helpful,” said Fontaine. “Do you happen to know what those subsidiaries are?”

“Well, it’s not listed on the Bourse,” said Daniel, ignoring the sound of his father clearing his throat, “so it’s hard to get accurate information. The great advantage of being a private company is just that. Privacy.”

“Perhaps you mean secrecy,” said Fontaine, smiling at him in a conspiratorial way.

Daniel smiled back. Clearly enjoying showing off his expertise.

It was, Gamache knew, a technique in investigations. Appeal to the ego of a suspect. And watch them spill.

“That’s probably more accurate,” conceded Daniel. He opened his mouth to go on, but his father interrupted.

“Regulators would know what the company’s into, wouldn’t they, Commander?” he asked, making it clear who should answer the question.

“You’d be surprised,” said Fontaine.