All the Devils Are Here(90)
“People have killed for a lot less.”
“Killed?” asked Arbour, and Beauvoir realized she didn’t know the whole story.
He told her about Alexander Plessner. About Stephen. About the upcoming board meeting.
By the time he stopped, Séverine Arbour was pale. “And you’ve now dragged me into it.”
“No, you were already in. If I found out about your snooping, they will, too. But if the issue is the mine in Patagonia, why are you so interested in Luxembourg?”
“How do you know I am?”
“I searched your files.”
“You what?”
“Look, let’s just assume you’re mad at me, I apologize, and you accept, okay? Let’s just skip to the important part. Luxembourg.”
Arbour glared at him and gave a curt nod. “Fine. Carole Gossette’s in charge of the Patagonia project. I’ve been digging and saw references to her and the Luxembourg funicular. But I can’t figure out the connection.”
“So Madame Gossette is involved?”
“Up to her neck, from what I can see. So much for your mentor.”
And my ability to spot wrongdoing, he thought. Still, if Madame Gossette was trying to hide what she and GHS were doing, why go all the way to Montréal to hire a senior cop, the former head of homicide for the S?reté? Why not just go with someone dense and easily manipulated?
Though, come to think of it …
He put that uncomfortable thought out of his head.
Séverine Arbour was looking at Loiselle. “He works for GHS. Won’t he report back?”
“No. He’s with us.”
She nodded, but was deeply unhappy. Things were getting way out of control. Confusing. This was not at all what she’d signed up for.
*
“Mrs. McGillicuddy emailed me last night,” said Armand. “She should be awake now. Do you mind?”
“Non.”
He placed the call, pressing his phone to his ear in an effort to hear above the din of the restaurant. He said a few words, then listened.
Reine-Marie saw, for a split second, a look of astonishment on his face.
He hung up and stared into space. Then he made another call. This time to one of their neighbors in Three Pines.
“Oui, Clara? No, Stephen’s still in critical condition. Yes. I will, merci. But I have a question. Who do you know at the Louvre?”
Now it was Reine-Marie’s turn to look astonished.
“Séverine,” said Beauvoir. “What do you know about our company?”
“What do you mean? It’s a huge engineering firm. What else is there to know?”
He took another tack. “How could the Luxembourg funicular figure in?”
“Maybe payoffs, funds for the mine siphoned through the Freeport in the duchy. Or bribes for Chilean officials.”
Yes, thought Jean-Guy. That made sense. The financial angle. That’s how Stephen would have first suspected something was wrong.
Beauvoir put his hands behind his back and walked in silence, gazing out over Paris. The great monuments were spread out at his feet. The boy from East End Montréal, who played ball hockey among garbage cans in the alleyways, could see the curve of the earth.
And all he wanted to do was go home.
CHAPTER 30
The taxi on the way to the Louvre stopped briefly at their apartment so Armand could pick up the GHS annual report.
While he was upstairs, Reine-Marie called Daniel and convinced him to move with Roslyn and the girls to the George V. To join Annie and her family in Stephen’s suite.
“Shouldn’t we take another room?” he asked. “It’ll be a little tight.”
“You’ll be fine.”
She hadn’t told him about his name in the archive system. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance he’d go to Commander Fontaine and tell her all he knew.
Best he didn’t know that.
When Armand returned to the taxi, she told him of her success with Daniel.
“That’s good.” He sighed with relief, knowing if he’d asked, Daniel would never have agreed.
He gave the driver the directions.
“We don’t want to go to the main entrance. I’ll guide you.”
Ignoring the snorting and muttering from the front seat, Armand pointed out the way to the Porte des Lions.
“You won’t get in,” warned the driver when he dropped them off.
Armand and Reine-Marie stood between the two huge sculptures of lions, and looked up at the tall wooden doors.
“Do you think there’s a doorbell?” Reine-Marie asked.
Just as they began to think the surly driver might have been right, the doors slowly, slowly opened.
“We’re here to see Monsieur de la Coutu,” said Armand, and showed the guard his ID.
Within minutes the curator arrived, hand extended. “Madame, Monsieur Gamache. Clara Morrow phoned and asked me to help. What can I do for you?”
To be honest, Reine-Marie had the same question.
All she knew was that Bernard de la Coutu was a curator in the Louvre’s Department of Paintings.
“I’d like you to come with us,” said Armand. “I promise, it won’t take long.”
The curator raised his brows and studied the couple, then nodded. “Absolutely. I’m a huge fan of Clara’s paintings, especially her portraits. She’s become a good friend. I’ll do whatever you need.”