of your own. That’s the best I can do. However, before we get to that, it’s my responsibility to inform you in full of the crimes you’re accused of. Now, you’re not under any obligation to respond to what I say, you do have the right to remain silent, simply acknowledge that you understand the charges with a nod.”
“All right… Officer…?”
“Detective Lieutenant Félix Nadeau.”
Crane nodded.
“I’m translating as I go so the exact wording may not be the right legal one, but you’ll get the gist.”
“Okay.”
“You are charged with the kidnapping and uh… forcible containment of one Édouard Duvernay, including assault and aggravated sexual assault, and sexual assault with a foreign object.” Nadeau looked up at Crane, waiting for him to acknowledge he’d heard. Crane wanted nothing more than to beg Nadeau to listen to him, that he had the wrong person… If anyone had assaulted Max, it was Vinny’s men… But then was Max really kidnapped? There was so much he wanted to know, but he forced himself to remain silent and gave a curt nod.
Nadeau continued. “You are charged with property damages resulting from fire, water, uh… vandalism and other such general mischief at a residence rented and occupied by yourself.”
“What?” Crane said, leaning forward. “Where?”
Nadeau frowned at the page in front of him and fished a pair of reading glasses out of his breast pocket, putting them on. He read out the address of Max’s condo.
“The condo wasn’t rented by me.”
“I have here the agreement between the owner and you for the long-term rental of the unit at this address.” He turned the page so Crane could see it. “This is your signature?”
Crane stared at the page. That was his signature… But it was forged. It had to be. He scanned the rental agreement and saw it had been arranged with the owners over the Web.
“The condo wasn’t rented by me,” he asserted. However, Nadeau flipped a few more pages and showed him the photocopy of his driver’s license and a credit card. He felt nauseous. Then he noticed the credit card was a Visa.
“That isn’t my card. I have a MasterCard.”
“Hmm” was all that Nadeau said, and he scribbled a few more things on his sheet. When he looked up at Crane, he asked, “Do you understand the charges?”
No! No, I don’t, he wanted to yell. This is all Max’s doing. I can prove it. But he just nodded weakly.
“What I want to know is how this”—Nadeau placed the photo of Crane from the clinic’s website—“turned into this.” The other photo was his mug shot. He thought he looked a little like Charles Manson in it. There couldn’t be more difference between the two photos. Crane averted his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at his clean-shaven, healthy-looking face, clear eyes, and keen smile; that man was long gone.
There was another knock, and a woman with short dark hair opened the door to Nadeau’s yelled “Oui?”
Leaning over to speak into Nadeau’s ear, the woman passed him a single sheet. Nadeau nodded and the woman left.
“This morning we found remains located in the… uh… ‘dungeon’ where Mr. Duvernay was kept. The body was just positively identified as a Mr. Guillaume Bertrand, age sixty-two, missing since August thirteenth.” Nadeau tapped the sheet. “He was your neighbour, was he not?”
Crane flared his nostrils, the sickness rising like lava in his throat. He nodded once.
“Well. Dr. Crane, you are now also charged with the murder of Mr. Bertrand and”—Nadeau skimmed the rest of the report—“it looks like they’ve tacked on ‘improper disposal of human remains’ in a highly, uh… frequented place. Do you understand?”
His stomach finally giving way to the horror of his predicament, Crane leaned over and threw up on the floor.
“Tabarnak!” swore Nadeau, jumping to his feet. He wrenched open the door to call for assistance as Crane toppled slowly from his chair.
Thursday, November 17th
“He forged my signature,” Crane repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time. “He took out a credit card in my name. He rented the condo with it. The owners never saw his face… You can check with them! And I don’t know how he got my driver’s license, but if he stole it out of my wallet somehow, I know I wouldn’t have noticed—I haven’t driven since moving here last spring. And look… I was still living with Mary at the date on the rental agreement. Why would I rent a condo if I already had a house? He was planning it the whole