Chương 7
"They can start."
"Do it."
She did not move.
"You need to call Henri yourself."
Henri Dumas had represented the company for eight years.
He had also represented me during the divorce.
That meant he knew exactly how vicious I had been.
Claire stood.
"And Alex."
"What?"
"If you're reopening this because you think Lucie was framed, do not contact Paul yet."
"Why?"
"Because if Margaux was involved, and if Paul was involved, then one of them may warn the other."
"You think they're still in contact?"
"I think we know almost nothing."
She opened the door.
"For once, behave accordingly."
By noon, Henri was sitting across from me in a navy suit that seemed immune to rain.
He read the archived logs twice.
Then he removed his glasses and cleaned them with a folded cloth.
"You have a problem."
"I gathered that."
"No."
He put the glasses back on.
"You have several problems."
He pointed to the screen.
"If these records are authentic and complete, your former wife's credentials may have been compromised."
"May have been?"
"Do you want legal analysis or emotional reassurance?"
"Legal analysis."
"Then may have been."
He turned another page.
"If company funds were misdirected through unauthorized account changes, we can reopen the internal matter."
"And the police?"
"Eventually."
"Eventually?"
"Evidence first."
I hated that word because it was exactly what Lucie had told me.
Henri continued.
"If Margaux is involved, confronting her now would be foolish."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I gave him a look.
He raised both hands.
"I represented you during the divorce."
"Point taken."
"Good."
He tapped the file.
"We preserve servers, payment records, archived correspondence, and access logs."
"What about the loan against my father's property?"
"Separate issue."
"Could she have done that without him understanding?"
"Depends what he signed and his capacity at the time."
"He was competent."
"Then if he knowingly guaranteed a loan, the guarantee may be valid even if she lied to him about the purpose."
I felt sick.
"Could the house be taken?"
"If the loan defaulted and the property secured it, yes."
"Has it defaulted?"
"I don't know."
"I need to find out."
"We will."
Henri leaned back.
"Where is Arthur now?"
I hesitated.
"With Lucie."
His expression changed.
"Lucie?"
"She has been caring for him."
"Since when?"
"Five months."
Henri looked at me as if deciding whether he was permitted to say something.
"Go ahead."
He folded his hands.
"You owe that woman an apology so large I am not sure the French language contains the necessary grammar."
"This conversation is in English."
"Then perhaps English has better tools."
I looked away.
Henri's humor vanished.
"I am serious."
"I know."
"Do not apologize yet if you're only doing it because you feel guilty."
"What does that mean?"
"It means guilt is still about you."
He gathered the documents.
"She may not want to help you."
"She's already helping Dad."
"That is not the same thing as helping you."
After he left, I drove to the address where Lucie had been living with my father.
I stopped at a pharmacy first.
Then a supermarket.
Then, because I did not know what else to do, a medical supply shop.
By the time I arrived, the rear of my SUV contained groceries, adult hygiene products, blankets, a space heater, nutritional drinks, and enough bottled water for a small disaster shelter.
Lucie opened the door and stared past me at the vehicle.
"What did you do?"
"I bought things."
"I can see that."
"I wasn't sure what you needed."
"So you bought everything?"
"More or less."
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
"Take most of it back."
"Why?"
"Because we don't have room."
"I can move him somewhere better."
"Where?"
"My house."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"Why not?"
"Because Arthur needs accessibility."
"I can make the house accessible."
"Tonight?"
"No."
"Then no."
"A hotel?"
"No."
"A private clinic?"
"Maybe."
That stopped me.
"Maybe?"
"His doctor needs to approve any transfer."
"I can arrange that."
Lucie crossed her arms.
"You can arrange an evaluation."
I nodded.
"Fine."
She studied me as if I had unexpectedly learned how to use a door handle.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're looking at me."
"You usually argue longer."
"I was told recently that I have a problem with that."
"By someone intelligent?"
"Unfortunately."
She almost smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
I opened the back of the SUV.
"Can we at least take in the things you actually need?"
Lucie looked through the bags.
"Water."
"Good."
"Protein drinks."
"Fine."
"The heater."
"Obviously."
She picked up a package of expensive imported biscuits.
"Not these."
"Why?"
"Arthur hates them."
"He used to eat those."
"He used to feed them to the dog when you weren't looking."
I stared at her.
"We didn't have a dog."
"The neighbor did."
From inside, my father made a rough coughing sound.
We both moved at once.
Lucie reached him first.
Arthur was upright but struggling to clear his throat.
She steadied him and adjusted his position while I stood uselessly beside the bed holding a bottle of water I had no idea whether he could safely drink.
"Don't give him that," she said.
I put it down immediately.
The coughing eased.
My father's face reddened with frustration.
Lucie checked his breathing, then looked at me.
"He needs the swallow assessment moved up."
"When is it?"
"Thursday."
"You'll ask whether they have a cancellation."
"Right."
I took out my phone.
She watched me.
"You're learning."
"Slowly."
"Very."
I called the clinic.
There was no opening that afternoon.
There was one the following morning at eight twenty because another patient had canceled.
I took it.
When I ended the call, Lucie was organizing the supplies.
My father pointed toward my pocket.
"What?"
He pointed again.
"My phone?"
He nodded.
I handed it to him.
His left thumb moved clumsily over the screen.
He could not unlock it.
I entered the code.
May you like
He opened my messages.
Margaux's thread was at the top.
