Read Online Asylum by Jeannette de Beauvoir - Free Book Online

honored to support the mayor in his political endeavors,” he told me by way of explanation.
    Ah: I had him now. Attorney and—no doubt—lobbyist. Pharmaceutical companies often have deep pockets, and in my boss’s worldview, the deeper the better. “I’m sure that he’s grateful,” I said. The joys of politics.
    “We hope he is,” said Robert Carrigan smoothly, and I could swear he winked at me. He turned to the mayor. “I’ll leave you, then, Jean-Luc. And don’t forget about Friday night. Just a short speech will be fine.”
    “Of course, of course,” my boss said, waving him out of the room. “Madame LeDuc, you have something to report?”
    The door closed behind the lobbyist and I turned to face the mayor. “I have been doing liaison work with the SPVM,” I said smoothly. “A détective-lieutenant named Julian Fletcher.” I waited a moment for the name to sink in.
    It did. “A police officer?” He sounded shocked. The Westmount Fletchers went in for public service, but at a rather higher level than the Communauté Métropolitaine de Montréal.
    “A very competent detective,” I corrected him.
    “Well,” said the mayor, “then he will want this wrapped up quickly.” As if just wanting it could make it so.
    “Of course he does,” I said. “As we all do, monsieur le maire .”
    “ Alors ,” he said, picking up a random piece of paper and scowling at it, “you should shut the door on your way out.”
    For once, I was happy to do exactly what my boss wanted.
    *   *   *
    Julian was in high spirits. “We’ve all been thinking chronologically,” he said over the phone. “Even me. ’Cause the theory, you know, the theory goes that someone like this progresses from one victim to the next, establishes a pattern, does what feels logical to them, sometimes decompensates…” His voice trailed off and I could almost feel his shrug. “So everybody looks at the timeline. But what if the timeline is for shit? What if it’s not about a pattern?” The questions were clearly rhetorical. “Let’s start where he left off. Let’s start with Danielle.”
    “My deputy,” I said in a neutral voice, “was dating her.”
    That was news to Julian. “I haven’t seen his statement,” he said. “They had people in all weekend, didn’t see him there.”
    “I expect that he’ll go in to see them today,” I said tiredly. “He has a place he rents in the Laurentians, probably went there over the weekend.” Richard, Richard, I thought: why did you run? It didn’t look good. It didn’t look good at all.
    Julian was thinking about this one. “Seriously? I mean, were they serious about each other?”
    “I don’t know. Probably not, or I would’ve heard her name. But Richard is a very private person.” His office, unlike mine, was not filled with pictures of family, keepsakes, or memories. He had art, good art, original art; that was all.
    “Okay. Well, anyway, getting back to what I was saying, we won’t walk all over anybody’s toes. Let’s start at work. Where she worked, I mean. You went to UQAM, didn’t you?” It was pretty clear that he hadn’t; the Fletchers were Anglophones all the way. Stretching back untold generations. “So, anyway, you know the place. Can you go check out her office?”
    Pourquoi pas?
    The UQAM library was less than bustling, but all the staff seemed preoccupied and busy. I waited until the worried-looking, middle-aged head of the library had time to deal with me. “We have already been talking with the police,” she said cautiously, looking at my card. “Forgive me, madame , but what is your interest in this situation?”
    “I’m working with the police,” I said confidently, trying the expression on for size. “Trying to gather more background information.”
    She handed me back the card, solemnly. “ Bien . What can I tell you?”
    “Danielle Leroux worked for you here?” I asked. Julian had given me a notebook. I opened it to the first page,