Chương 8
I almost answered with the obvious explanation.
Money.
Control.
Entitlement.
Then I stopped.
There was more.
“There is a voting structure.”
Claire glanced over.
I continued.
“Henri and I arranged it years ago.”
“Meaning?”
“Maxime can inherit significant economic value without automatically inheriting control.”
Chloé turned around slowly.
“He told me he would become chairman.”
“He could have been considered.”
“He said it was guaranteed.”
“Nothing was guaranteed.”
Her face tightened.
“He said you were only still chairman because the board was afraid to force you out.”
I laughed once.
“That sounds like him.”
“Is it true?”
“No.”
Claire looked at me.
“Not entirely.”
I gave her a look.
She shrugged.
“Some directors were concerned about succession planning.”
“Concerned is not afraid.”
“Correct.”
Chloé stared between us.
“So Maxime thought he was about to lose the company.”
“He thought he was about to lose control of something he had already decided belonged to him.”
I heard my own words and felt an old discomfort.
For years, Henri and I had spoken about Belmont around Maxime as though it were a family inheritance rather than a company employing thousands of people.
We had corrected him when he behaved badly, but we had rarely corrected the deeper assumption.
Someday, this will all be yours.
Parents say such things lightly.
Children sometimes build their identities around them.
Claire’s phone vibrated.
She read a message.
“The officers have the clinic information.”
“Are they looking for Renaud?”
“Yes.”
“Do they think Maxime did something?”
“They are not saying.”
Chloé sank back into her chair.
“I need clothes.”
“What?”
“My things are at the apartment.”
“You are not going there tonight,” Claire said.
“I can’t stay here forever.”
“You’re staying here for one night.”
“I have medication there.”
That changed the discussion.
“What medication?” I asked.
“Nothing dramatic.”
She looked embarrassed.
“Thyroid tablets.”
“Do you need them before morning?”
“Yes.”
Claire was already typing.
“We can arrange for someone to accompany you later, or have someone retrieve them.”
“I have a spare pack in my travel bag.”
“Where is the bag?”
“At my apartment.”
I sighed.
“Of course it is.”
Chloé almost smiled.
I went to the bathroom and returned with a small basket of toiletries.
“Use whatever you need.”
She took it from me.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The words felt oddly formal.
As she walked toward the guest room, I said, “Chloé.”
She stopped.
“Your phone.”
“What about it?”
“Give it to Claire before you shower.”
Her expression changed.
“Why?”
“If Maxime calls.”
“He’s with police.”
“If anyone calls.”
Her hand tightened around the phone.
“You don’t trust me.”
“No.”
She flinched.
I stood.
“But I believe you may be frightened.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“It isn’t.”
For a moment, resentment passed plainly across her face.
Good.
I preferred it to false intimacy.
She placed the phone on the table and walked away.
Claire waited until the bathroom door closed.
“You handled that badly.”
“I know.”
“She may be our best witness.”
“She is my daughter-in-law, not evidence.”
“She can be both.”
“That sentence is why people hate lawyers.”
“That and invoices.”
I sat down.
Claire’s humor vanished.
“Marianne, I need to ask you something uncomfortable.”
“Tonight has been full of those.”
“Did Henri ever use an intermediary in Lyon named Henri?”
“No.”
“An employee?”
“Not that I recall.”
“A banker?”
“No.”
“Consultant?”
I shook my head.
Then something surfaced.
Not a clear memory.
A name on an envelope.
Blue ink.
Henri complaining that someone had sent paperwork to the wrong address.
I closed my eyes.
“What?”
Claire asked.
“There was a man.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“I’m seventy, Claire.”
She said nothing.
“I am allowed three seconds.”
“Take four.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Henri had a childhood friend.”
“Name?”
“Henri also.”
Claire blinked.
“Seriously?”
“They called him Rico.”
“Surname?”
“Vallon.”
She typed quickly.
“Henri Vallon?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“Insurance, maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I met him twice.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Before the accident?”
“Yes.”
“After?”
“I don’t know.”
The bathroom water started running down the hall.
Claire searched public records through the databases she had access to.
I watched her face.
“Anything?”
“Possibly.”
“Lawyer language again.”
“Henri Vallon, sixty-nine, former claims consultant.”
“Where?”
“Lyon.”
I felt something tighten under my ribs.
“Company?”
“Several.”
“HB Conseil?”
She looked up.
“No.”
I exhaled.
Then she kept reading.
“He was a director of a loss-adjustment firm that worked with Belmont’s insurer.”
The relief vanished.
“When?”
“Until 2020.”
“Luc’s accident was 2019.”
“Yes.”
“Was he involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you find out?”
“Not at one in the morning.”
I stared at her.
She corrected herself.
“I can start.”
Her phone rang before she could.
This time it was one of the police officers from the restaurant.
Claire answered and put the call on speaker only after asking permission.
“Madame Dumas?”
“Yes.”
“We have located Monsieur Vasseur.”
My hand went to the table.
“Is he alive?”
The officer paused.
“Yes.”
The word loosened something inside me.
“Where is he?”
“At his sister’s residence outside Lyon.”
“Is he safe?”
“As far as we can determine.”
“Why did he leave the clinic?”
“He says he became frightened after receiving a message.”
Claire leaned forward.
“What message?”
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
“His sister’s front door.”
Chloé appeared in the hallway in one of my robes, wet hair hanging around her face.
She had heard enough to stop walking.
The officer continued.
“The image was accompanied by a short text instructing him to withdraw his statement.”
My skin prickled.
“From what number?”
“Unregistered prepaid line.”
“Does Renaud still have the message?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know who sent it?”
“He says no.”
Claire’s expression said she did not believe that answer.
“Has he mentioned Maxime Belmont?”
“Yes.”
Chloé came closer.
“What did he say?”
The officer hesitated.
Claire said, “His wife is here.”
“Understood.”
May you like
The officer’s voice remained neutral.
“Monsieur Vasseur claims Maxime Belmont did not organize the original concealment in 2019.”
