All the Devils Are Here (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #16) - Louise Penny Page 0,45
of information.
Instead, he apologized and asked, “They know each other well?”
“They’re more like acquaintances than friends. Not especially close.”
“Can you find out if Alex Plessner ever sat on the GHS board?”
“I think so.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me about Mr. Plessner? Anything Stephen might’ve said?”
There was a pause as she thought. “I believe Mr. Plessner has a great deal of money. Mr. Horowitz said he made most of it all at once, through some speculation. I think it might’ve been venture capital.”
“Like seed money for Apple or Microsoft?”
“Something like that. Mr. Horowitz always kids Mr. Plessner about falling into a bucket of luck.”
That bucket, it seemed, had run dry yesterday, thought Gamache.
“Mrs. McGillicuddy, there’s something else I need to tell you. Alex Plessner was found murdered this morning, in Stephen’s apartment.”
There was a soft moan at the other end. The sound of a person who’d seen a lot in her long life. And had now seen too much.
Armand gave her time to absorb that news.
“What’s happening?” she whispered down the line from Montréal.
“I’m trying to find out. The apartment was ransacked. They were looking for something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. We think it might be evidence of some sort that Stephen and Plessner found. Alex Plessner had Stephen’s business card on him—”
“Well, that’s no sur—” She’d interrupted him. And now Mrs. McGillicuddy interrupted herself. “Are you saying … That’s not possible.”
“What isn’t?”
“You were going to tell me that Mr. Horowitz gave him a JSPS card.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it. You know what that card does? Anyone with it can get into Mr. Horowitz’s bank accounts, his safety-deposit boxes. His homes. As far as I know, Mr. Horowitz only gave that card to three people. You, me, and your grandmother.”
“Zora?”
“Yes.”
“Zora?” Armand repeated. “Are you sure?”
“I was there when he gave it to her. He made sure I saw.”
“At my parents’ funeral?”
“No. When you were going away to Cambridge. He thought she might need a friend one day. He was offering to be that friend.”
“She hated him.”
“Yes. But that didn’t mean he hated her.”
Armand thought for a moment. Could the card they found on Alex Plessner have been Zora’s? But no. She’d been dead for more than twenty years. And Mr. Plessner’s card was newer. Thick, sturdy. Zora’s would have been the much older, flimsier version.
He wondered what had become of Zora’s. It hadn’t been among her belongings when she died. Perhaps his grandmother hadn’t understood the magnitude, and significance, of what Stephen was offering, and had thrown it away.
“Would you necessarily know if Mr. Plessner used his card?”
Mrs. McGillicuddy thought. “If he used it to get into one of Mr. Horowitz’s accounts, or homes, or business, yes. But you know that card can be used for so much more. In the international business world, it’s pretty much a laissez-passer.”
That was a good way of putting it, Armand thought. The Just Some Poor Schmuck card, as silly as it might sound, was anything but. It was akin to a travel document issued by rulers and despots of old, guaranteeing safe passage.
Within the international business community, Stephen Horowitz’s JSPS card had become legendary. Mythical.
“You don’t know, then, if Mr. Plessner ever actually used it?”
“No.”
“You still have yours?”
“Of course.”
“I have a colleague, Isabelle Lacoste. She’s the acting head of homicide for the Sûreté. She’s going to need to get into Stephen’s home and work. Into his safety-deposit boxes at the bank, to make sure they haven’t been searched in the last day or so, and to search them herself.”
“Tell her to call me. I’ll make sure she gets in.”
“If she needs the JSPS card, can you give her yours?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Mr. Horowitz trusted me with it. I’ll help her with whatever she wants, but I need to be there when she uses it.”
“Agreed. There is something else I need you to do,” said Armand.
“Please. Anything.”
“I found a scrap of paper in Stephen’s agenda,” said Armand. “With dates that seem to be in reference to Monsieur Plessner. I’m wondering if they’re meetings the two of them had, either in person or on the phone. If I email them to you, can you cross-check with Stephen’s old agendas? See what he was doing on those days? Some go back a number of years.”
“I can do that.”
Armand paused before speaking again. “Can you think of anyone who might want Stephen dead?”
“I can think of any number of people.”
Armand gave a small laugh. “True. Merci, Mrs. McGillicuddy.”
“You’ll let me know—”
“I will.”
“I didn’t mean to blame you, Armand. It’s just that …”