‘He’s not here, I told you. He’s out. I don’t know when he’ll be back.’
OK, thought Beauvoir, joke’s over.
‘Mrs Croft, we’re going to go out with your husband in a minute and look at the bows and arrows. While we’re out there I’d like you to think about something. We need to speak with Philippe. We know he was involved in the manure incident in Three Pines, and that Miss Neal identified him.’
‘And others,’ she said defiantly.
‘Two days later she’s dead. We need to speak to him.’
‘He had nothing to do with it.’
‘I’m willing to accept that you believe that. And you might be right. But did you think he was capable of attacking two men in Three Pines? Do you really know your son, Mrs Croft?’
He’d hit a nerve, but then he’d expected to. Not because Beauvoir had any particular insight into the Croft family, but because he knew every parent of a teenage boy fears they’re housing a stranger.
‘If we can’t speak with your son by the time we’re ready to leave then we’ll get a warrant and have him brought to the police station in St Rémy to be questioned. Before today is over, we will speak with him. Here or there.’
Chief Inspector Gamache watched all this and knew they had to somehow get into that basement. These people were hiding something, or someone. And whatever it was was in the basement. Yet it was odd, thought Gamache. He could have sworn Matthew Croft had been relaxed and natural in the public meeting. It was Suzanne Croft who had been so upset. Now they both were. What had happened?
‘Mr Croft, may we see those bows and arrows now?’ Beauvoir asked.
‘How dare you—’ Croft was vibrating with rage.
‘It’s not a question of “dare”.’ Beauvoir looked him hard in the face. ‘At the meeting this morning Chief Inspector Gamache made it clear that unpleasant things would be asked of each and every one of you. That’s the price you’ll pay for finding out who killed Miss Neal. I understand your anger. You don’t want your children traumatised by this. But, frankly, I think they already are. I’m giving you a choice. We can speak with your son here, or we can speak with him at the St Rémy station.’
Beauvoir paused. And paused. And in his mind dared Nichol to offer cookies. Finally he continued. ‘The rules of normal life are suspended when there’s a violent death. You two and your family are among the first casualties. I have no illusions about what we do, and we do it as painlessly as possible -’ Matthew Croft sputtered in disgust’—which is why I’ve offered you the choice. Now, the bows and arrows please.’
Matthew Croft took a deep breath, ‘This way.’