A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15) - Louise Penny Page 0,80

you redo this, please, but remove your name.”

“But I was the—”

“I know.” Gamache held his eyes. Unwavering. “Just do it.”

Though confused, Cameron sat back down and redid the paperwork while Chief Inspector Gamache tore up the evidence that Agent Cameron had anything to do with releasing a man who’d vowed murder.

He then signed the new form so that his name, and his name alone, would be seen.

“Now,” said Gamache, dropping the pen, “we’ll let Monsieur Godin out in a few minutes. First, tell us what you’ve found out about Tracey’s movements on Saturday.”

“Turned out to be quite easy,” said Cameron. “He was in Sherbrooke at an art-supply shop. Apparently that’s where he gets most of his clay and other things he needs. His bank card shows a purchase there at eleven forty.”

“Roughly the same time as the posts,” said Cloutier.

“What did he buy?”

“A bag of clay, some glazes,” said Cameron.

Gamache nodded. They’d found unopened clay wrapped in plastic and new pots of glaze in Tracey’s studio.

“I’ve also been to the local pharmacist about the abortion drug. She has no account for Vivienne Godin or Carl Tracey and confirms that bottle is black-market.”

“Why would Vivienne need to get it on the black market?” asked Cloutier. “She could get it for free, right?”

“With a prescription, oui,” said Cameron. “If you don’t have one—”

“Or you want to terminate a pregnancy too far along,” said Gamache.

“—then you go on the black market to get the drug.”

“Mail order?” asked Gamache, and said a quiet prayer.

“Many are, but the pharmacist didn’t think so in this case. Buyers are beginning to realize that while pushers might not be the most reliable people, mail order is even worse. I know a few dealers. People we’ve dealt with in the past. Want to come?”

Gamache looked in the direction of the holding cell where Godin waited. The abortion drug could be one of the keys to the case against Tracey. If it turned out he was the one who’d bought it. It could strengthen their argument that he wanted to end the pregnancy, one way or the other.

“Non. There’re other things I need to do. But let me know as soon as you have any information.”

“Oui, patron,” said Cameron, pushing back from his desk.

“Good.” Gamache brought out his iPhone. “Give me your cell number.”

Cameron did.

As Gamache was putting it in, his own phone vibrated with a call.

“Excusez-moi.” He took a few steps away.

“Coroner’s report is in,” said Beauvoir. “They found spores in her hand. An exact match for the ones on the rotten wood.”

Gamache exhaled. They’d just taken a big step closer to making an arrest.

“This proves she was on the bridge,” said Beauvoir. “And she died trying to save herself.”

“Oui. But we still need to place Tracey there. And prove it wasn’t an accident.”

“We’re going over Tracey’s clothes to see if we can find any of the microorganisms. The forensics team found something else, patron. When they moved her car, they found boot prints. They’d been protected from the rain by the car.”

“Are they a match for Tracey’s boots?” asked Gamache.

“They’re looking now.”

“Good, good,” said Gamache, his thoughts moving quickly ahead. Is it enough? Is it enough?

He made up his mind.

“I’m going to hold Godin for another couple of hours until you find out more. By then—”

“We might have enough to nail Tracey. I think it’s time we brought Pauline Vachon in.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ve applied for a warrant to search her place while she’s being questioned,” said Beauvoir. “As soon as it comes through, I’ll have her picked up. Isabelle will interview her at the station. She’d like Cloutier there. Any news from your end?”

“Agent Cameron has a lead on the abortion drug found in Vivienne’s bag. Definitely black-market. I’m hoping we can get proof that Tracey bought it.”

“About that,” said Beauvoir. “We have news on the fetus.”

Gamache listened, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the information. When Beauvoir finished, Gamache simply said, “Merci.”

“What is it, patron?” asked Cloutier, seeing his expression after he’d hung up.

Gamache paused for a moment, staring at the blank wall in front of him. His lips were pressed together in concentration. Then he clicked his device off and slipped it into his pocket.

“Superintendent Lacoste will be by in a few minutes,” he said, striding back to the desk. “We’re bringing in Pauline Vachon.”

“But there’s more I can get from her private Instagram account,” said Cloutier. “I’m sure of it.”

When he turned to her, she was surprised to see that the anxiety that had flitted across his