A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15) - Louise Penny Page 0,62

on their preliminary findings at the bridge.

Now Gamache, in the silence as Jean-Guy slept, went back over that conversation.

“We lifted three sets of fresh prints off the interior of the car,” Beauvoir had said. “Probably Vivienne’s and Tracey’s. But the third?”

“Can we prove that she wasn’t alone? That someone was on the bridge with her?”

“No. That’s a problem. The heavy rain washed away all foot and tire prints.”

“Shame.” Gamache thought for a moment. “But we still think she either met someone there. Something happened, and she went off the bridge. Or—”

“Or Tracey followed her there and killed her.”

“But if he wanted her dead, why wait until she left?” mused Gamache, keeping his eyes on the highway. “He struck me as someone who doesn’t plan ahead. I can imagine him lashing out and killing her that night, in their home, either on purpose or in a fit of rage, but to follow her?”

“He told you he left her in the living room and went into his studio and drank, right?”

“Oui.”

“Maybe he worked himself into a rage. Getting angrier and angrier the more he thought about Vivienne and another man. He sees her leave and decides to follow her, thinking she’s meeting her lover.”

Gamache nodded. That, he could see.

“He’d confront them. Do you think there really was a lover?” Beauvoir asked, then yawned.

“Must have been,” said Gamache. “At least in your scenario. Otherwise why would she drive to the bridge?”

“Okay, she goes to meet a lover, but then wouldn’t Tracey kill him, too?”

“Maybe he did. But I doubt it,” Gamache said. “Like all abusers and bullies, Tracey’s a coward. He wouldn’t attack someone who could fight back.”

“So if he did follow Vivienne, he found her alone on the bridge. Waiting. And threw her in.”

“What did you find there?”

“I discovered I don’t like rotten bridges over rivers in flood.”

“Ahhh,” said Gamache. “Most helpful. Anything else?”

“Wouldn’t take much to break through the railing. It was broken from the inside out and looks recent. I think there’s little doubt that’s where Vivienne fell.”

“Any actual proof?”

“Not yet. We’re testing the wood for fibers and blood. We’ve removed the section where she broke through so technicians can take a closer look in the lab. Then there’s the duffel bag,” said Beauvoir. “Lacoste pointed out that most of the clothes are for summer.”

“Huh,” said Gamache. “That’s strange.”

“Not the only strange thing. You know those pills in the bag?”

“Yes.”

“They’re abortion pills.”

“They’re what?” Gamache glanced over quickly before returning his eyes to the road.

“Medication to end an early pregnancy. Looks like she got them on the black market.”

“I wonder how far along she was,” said Gamache.

It looked to both of them as though she was beyond what could be called an early pregnancy. But the coroner would tell them.

“Isabelle doesn’t think she packed the bag, and neither do I,” said Jean-Guy, yawning again. Between the heat of the car and the gentle hum of the engine, Jean-Guy could feel himself losing the fight to stay alert. To even stay awake.

“You think Tracey packed the bag,” said Gamache.

“Yes. I think it was a simple mess of a murder. You found blood in the living room. And we found blood in the car. Tracey admits beating her. I think either he killed her in the home, beat her to death, drove her to the bridge, and threw her over, wanting to make it look like suicide or an accident, or he took her there while she was still alive and threw her off.”

“I don’t think he beat her to death in the house. There wasn’t enough blood. And if she was still alive, why would she get into the car with him?”

“Yes, that’s a problem. She wouldn’t. Not voluntarily, anyway.”

“So the most likely explanation is that he knocked her unconscious, drove her there, and threw her off the bridge,” said Gamache. “Hoping, like you said, it would look like an accident or suicide. He packed the duffel bag, grabbing things at random, and threw it in after her. But people don’t pack for suicide. If that’s what he wanted us to believe, he made a mistake.”

“There’s another problem,” said Beauvoir. “The blood smears are on the driver’s side. It looks like she was hurt, but conscious enough to drive.”

“So she took herself there,” said Gamache, considering. “And there’s no physical evidence of anyone else on that bridge with her.”

“Not yet. You think he didn’t do it?”

“Tracey? Oh, he did it. It’s just a matter of understanding the evidence. And getting enough to