“I told you. I got back to the Cathedral at 10.30.
“Who was the first person you saw when you got back?”
“Monsignor Forlini, when I presented myself for duty. That would have been about 11.”
“So, just so that I can get this clear, between 4.30 p.m. and 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve, there is nobody who can confirm where you were?”
“That’s correct, Inspector. I suppose you could say I was missing in action during that period.”
“Father Drouin, do you own a Santa suit?”
Drouin looked at Vanier as though he had asked if he wore a yarmulke.
“That’s what’s wrong with Christmas. Christmas is about Jesus Christ, not Santa Claus. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of humanity’s Savior. And Santa Claus is the last thing that Christians should be thinking about. So, to answer your question, Inspector, no, I don’t have a Santa Claus costume.”
“I need to ask these questions, Father,” said Vanier.
“I understand, Inspector. If someone killed these poor people, you must find him.”
“I intend to,” said Vanier. “I will probably have more questions for you. But that’s it for now.”
“Anything I can do to help, just ask me. You know where I am.”
“I do, Father.”
Through the two-way mirror, Laurent watched both men rise from the table. Vanier led Drouin out and walked him down to the main entrance, and waited in the cold while he went to his car. The priest didn’t look back.
Vanier returned and joined Laurent in the viewing room.
“What do you think, sir?” asked Laurent.
“I don’t know. I’m struggling to get over my prejudices against the Church, trying to see him simply as a man with a mission to love his fellow man. I have no problem understanding people who dedicate their lives to others. But I don’t get the inner joy from him. People who do this type of work, the ones I’ve seen exude goodwill, they’re happy. Drouin is angry, not joyful. Maybe he was shocked by the deaths. Who knows? But he was missing when Santa was giving out his gifts.”
“So he’s a suspect?”
“Damn right. So let’s see what we can find out about him. Get some history, but do it delicately. I don’t want the Archbishop calling the Chief. And nail down the time of the last image of Santa in the Metro. Would he have had time to get back to the Cathedral for 10.30? While you’re at it, check out the alibi. Can we get confirmation that he was seen at 11?”
“I’ll get onto it.”
12.45 PM
There was a line of people waiting in the numbing cold to be let into the Holy Land Shelter for lunch. A few were recognizable as down-and-out street people, but others would not have been out of place on the bus, or in the checkout line at the supermarket. Some were only boys trying their best to look like men; others looked old before their time. Most of those in line ignored Vanier and Laurent as they walked past, but some instinctively reached out a hand with an ingratiating smile, unable to miss an opportunity to ask for change.
Laurent held the door for Vanier and followed him into the warmth. Their path was blocked by an unsmiling man standing like a nightclub bouncer in a suit cut tight to emphasize muscle that you can only build with regular work with weights.
“Don’t I know you?” Vanier asked, searching his memory for a name.
“I’ve met a lot of cops. After a while they all look the same. Know what I mean?”
“We’re looking for M. Nolet.”
“Through those doors, to your right.”
The detectives started to move towards the door, and then Vanier stopped. “Audet. Marcel Audet, isn’t it? You were put away, what was it, seven years ago?”
“Yeah. And? I’ve done my time.”
“Got lucky, didn’t you? The poor bastard didn’t die from the beating, just became a vegetable. So it was assault, not murder. Now you’re back out on the street.”
“Like I said, I’ve done my time.”
“And the other guy’s probably still hooked up to some machine somewhere, wishing you’d come back and finish him off.”
“That’s all behind me. I’m clean. I’ve found a purpose in life.”
“I bet you have,” said Vanier.
“What do you know? When you deal with filth every day, you become filth,” he said, turning away from Vanier.
Audet walked to the front doors and opened them, letting the patrons stream in. He had them well trained. There was no pushing or shoving. They were on their best behaviour, like schoolchildren passing the headmaster. Vanier watched the parade of desperate men shuffling towards a meal. He didn’t believe in change. Once a villain, always a villain. He turned to follow the directions to Nolet’s office, and his path was blocked again, this time by a short balding man with a broad smile.
“I am Nolet. You were looking for me?”
Vanier was puzzled until he noticed the closed circuit cameras.
“You have closed circuit TV in a homeless shelter?” asked Vanier.
“We have a difficult clientele. Certain security measures are in the best interests of everyone. How can I help you?”
“We’d like to talk to you about the five people found dead on Christmas Eve. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Yes, of course,” said Nolet, looking quickly to Audet as though he was asking permission. Audet turned away from them. “Let’s go to my office.”
The desk and chairs were the throwaway type. A threadbare orange carpet covered the floor, and papers covered the desk. In contrast to the cheapness of the rest of the office, a bank of six television monitors flickered with images from different parts of the shelter. Nolet seemed to feel the need to explain.
“Times have changed, gentlemen. We live in a tough world and we have to take steps to protect our guests. Fights and thefts are common. So we had a security system installed.”
Vanier stared at the screens. They covered the spot where people lined up to enter the shelter, the doorway, the dining room, what looked like a recreation room, and the two massive dormitories.
“Very impressive, M. Nolet. What are you scared of?”
“I am not scared, Inspector. I’ve worked here fifteen years, and I understand the clientele. They don’t scare me. To tell you the truth, I hardly use the cameras but M. Audet finds them useful. And I must admit that there are fewer incidents since he joined us. He seems to have a knack for keeping things under control.”
“And when was that, M. Nolet.”
“What?”
“When did M. Audet join you?”
“Maybe four months ago. The new Board decided that we needed a stronger hand to beef up security.”
“So it wasn’t your choice?”
“I didn’t disagree. I knew his background and I was happy to give him a chance to turn his life around.”
Laurent was distracted, looking at the television monitors.
“M. Audet has had quite an influence on this place since he’s been here. He manages the shelter on a day- to-day basis. He’s Operations Manager, that’s the title the Board gave him. That frees me up to do more important work, like raising funds, buying supplies and the like, making sure we don’t go bankrupt. He has a firm hand, but you need that around here.”
Nolet moved behind the desk and motioned them to sit in the two chairs in front. He gathered the papers on the desk and moved them to the side, folding his hands in the cleared space. Vanier pulled the photographs out of the envelope and placed them face up on the desk.
“We think we have their names but would like you to confirm any that you know.”
