“Disconnected. Hell, I could have saved you the trouble.”
“You’ve had all the trouble,” Guy said. He tried the sister’s number.
A man answered. Frank heard Guy ask for Yvette Nereault. A rapid exchange occurred in which he thought he heard the word “California.” Then he heard Guy say something about the Las Piernas Police Department.
“The Las Piernas police?” he heard the man ask in English.
“What happened?” Frank asked.
“I asked for Yvette Nereault and was told that she was not at home, but the man who answered was her husband. I asked when she would be back and he said not for a week, that she was in California. I said that I was calling on behalf of a friend who was with the Las Piernas Police Department, who needed urgently to contact her. You heard what happened after that.”
Frank sighed. “This family is understandably upset with the department.”
“Why?”
“Strictly between us?”
“Of course.”
Frank gave him a brief summary of the case.
“Phew!” Guy said. “So they must believe in his innocence.”
“I’m not so sure their faith is misplaced. And the notes on the case indicate that persistent inquiries were made of the family during the first year or so after Lefebvre disappeared — some members of the department thought Lefebvre would hide out in Canada.”
“So they feel harassed and have no love of the Las Piernas police.”
“Right. But I need to do my best to tell them that we’ve found him. Are you willing to try again?”
“Sure.”
“Maybe we can convince him to get in touch with his wife and ask her to call us — to let it be her decision.”
Guy dialed the number again. He spoke very rapidly when Nereault answered, and Nereault allowed him to go on at some length. Frank heard him mention Montreal and then the Buffalo Sabres and, from Nereault’s disbelieving and then excited tone, realized that Guy was gaining ground. He also realized that however excellent Detective Tran’s French might be, unless he had played pro hockey, he wouldn’t have made such a hit with Nereault. Eventually, Frank heard Guy mention “Detective Harriman” and then Philippe Lefebvre.
“So you didn’t work for the department when my brother-in-law disappeared?” Nereault said in perfect English.
“No. I was working in another city then.”
“Philippe is dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Frank answered.
There was a long silence.
“Yvette knew it. She knew it then. Her parents — that was another matter.”
“Can you tell me how to reach them?”
“Do you know a spiritualist?” Nereault said. “Sorry — that was in poor taste. They have been dead for eight years.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I can’t say that I miss them. And even Yvette has come to see that they were not — well, that does not matter. Whatever one thinks of them, it is a shame that they died thinking their son was a crooked cop. But to tell the truth, for many years, they had thought worse of him than that. Philippe had been dead to them for a long time, you know.”
“No, I didn’t—”
“And now you tell me he is really dead. Who killed him?”
“His plane crashed in the mountains.”
“Who killed him?” Nereault asked again.
“I’m trying to learn the truth about what happened to him,” Frank said. “If someone killed him, I’ll do my best to find out who it was.”
“I’ll tell you who it was,” Nereault said. “It was one of you. One of your Las Piernas Police Department fellows, that’s who. You should watch your back, Detective Harriman, especially if you are going around saying that Philippe might have been innocent.”
He spoke in French to Guy for a while, then said, “You may be surprised to learn that my wife is not far from you at the moment. She is in Las Piernas.”
“What brings her here?”
He hesitated, then said, “She would not want me to discuss her business with you.”
Frank waited.
“Let’s say she is visiting a friend. A good reason to be there, no? A woman named Marie. You can ask for Marie
