Chương 7
My stomach tightened.
“What note?”
“A Lyon address.”
Chloé’s cup clicked softly against the saucer.
“Luc?”
“We don’t know.”
Samuel continued.
“I checked it against Garnier’s current address.”
My heart beat harder.
“And?”
“It isn’t his home.”
“Then what is it?”
“A rehabilitation clinic.”
Claire stood.
“Is Garnier a patient?”
“I called the public line and got nothing beyond normal privacy restrictions.”
“Of course.”
“But there’s another problem.”
Nobody spoke.
Samuel lowered his voice.
“Renaud Vasseur was admitted to that clinic yesterday afternoon.”
The kitchen seemed to contract around us.
“Renaud?” I said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was he injured?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know he was admitted?”
“He called me from there.”
Claire’s eyes sharpened.
“When?”
“Yesterday at 4:12 p.m.”
“You didn’t mention this.”
“He told me he was there for tests and asked that I not tell Marianne unless it became relevant.”
I felt anger rise before fear.
“He asked you to keep that from me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said he was frightened.”
“Of Maxime?”
“He didn’t say.”
“What did he say?”
Samuel hesitated.
“He said he had made a mistake contacting us.”
Chloé whispered something I could not hear.
Claire took the phone from the table and held it closer.
“Samuel, do you have any way to reach Renaud directly?”
“I’ve tried twice tonight.”
“No answer?”
“No.”
“Call again.”
The line ended.
I stood too quickly and had to put one hand against the table.
Claire came around to me.
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Chloé had gone pale.
“What if Maxime was going there?”
“We don’t know that.”
“He had the address.”
“Yes.”
“He threatened Luc.”
“He spoke vaguely about Luc.”
“You’re doing lawyer language again.”
“Because language matters.”
Claire turned toward her.
“It matters especially now.”
I walked to the sink and stared at the dark window above it.
My reflection looked older than it had that morning.
Not seventy.
Simply tired.
Behind me, Chloé began speaking.
“There’s one more thing.”
I turned.
Claire closed her eyes briefly.
“What?”
“The night I heard him on the balcony, Maxime said a name.”
“You said he didn’t.”
“I said I didn’t know who was on the other end.”
“What name?”
Chloé swallowed.
“Henri.”
Every muscle in my body seemed to stop.
“My husband has been dead for three years.”
“I know.”
“What exactly did Maxime say?”
She looked directly at me.
“He said, ‘Henri cleaned up the first mess, and I’m not letting his widow ruin everything now.’”
I gripped the edge of the sink.
“His widow?”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at me.
I looked back at her.
Maxime had not been talking about me.
Henri had never called me his widow while he was alive, and Maxime would not have described me that way to someone who knew our family.
The sentence implied another man named Henri.
Or another widow.
Or a story none of us had yet found.
My phone buzzed before I could speak.
Samuel again.
I answered.
This time there was no greeting.
“I reached the clinic.”
His breathing was audible.
“Renaud is missing.”
Claire reached for the phone.
“What does missing mean?”
Samuel exhaled hard.
“He checked himself out at six-thirty yesterday evening.”
“That isn’t missing.”
“He didn’t sign the discharge form.”
Claire’s expression hardened.
“Then how did he leave?”
“No one seems to know.”
I moved away from the sink.
“Was he well enough to leave?”
“The nurse wouldn’t discuss his condition.”
“Of course she wouldn’t.”
Samuel continued.
“But she did say something she probably shouldn’t have.”
Claire looked at me.
“What?”
“Renaud had asked reception whether anyone had called asking for him.”
The room went very still.
“Did someone?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Who?”
“The caller wouldn’t leave a name.”
Chloé pressed both hands over her mouth.
I looked at the clock on my oven.
It was almost one in the morning.
The date had already changed.
My birthday was over.
“Call the police,” I said.
“They already know,” Claire replied.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Tell them about the clinic, the note, the calls, all of it.”
“They’re being updated.”
“Then update them again.”
She studied me for half a second, then nodded.
“Samuel, send me everything you have.”
“I’m doing it now.”
The call ended.
For several minutes, the only sound in the kitchen was my refrigerator cycling on.
I had purchased it because Henri said the old one hummed like an angry priest.
I had forgotten that until that moment.
“Who is the other Henri?” Chloé asked.
I turned toward her.
“I don’t know.”
“Could Maxime have been talking about your husband?”
“He said ‘Henri cleaned up the first mess’ and then referred to me as ‘his widow.’”
Claire leaned against the counter.
“That sounds like he was speaking to someone who knew exactly which Henri he meant.”
I sat down again.
The chair felt suddenly too hard.
“Henri’s full name was Henri Belmont.”
Chloé nodded.
“Yes.”
“But Renaud’s consulting company received money through a firm called HB Conseil.”
Claire’s eyes sharpened.
“You noticed that?”
“I signed enough internal reports to remember initials.”
She opened Samuel’s files on her tablet.
“HB Conseil was dissolved two years ago.”
“Who owned it?”
“Nominee structure.”
“Who was behind it?”
“We never established that.”
I looked at her.
“You told me it was likely one of Maxime’s friends.”
“I said it was possible.”
“Lawyer language.”
“Yes.”
Chloé gave a nervous laugh.
Nobody joined her.
Claire scrolled.
“HB Conseil was registered through an accounting office in Lyon.”
My stomach tightened.
“Henri was born near Lyon.”
“So were several million other people.”
“I know.”
“I’m not dismissing it.”
“You sound like you are.”
“I’m stopping us from deciding first and proving later.”
She was right.
I disliked her for it.
That was one reason I paid her so well.
Chloé stood and carried her untouched coffee to the sink.
“Can I ask something?”
“You usually do,” I said.
May you like
She glanced at me.
“Why did Maxime hate the idea of you selling part of Belmont so much?”
