I remembered him from Rivard’s report. “He’s the man who accompanied Professor Chamberlain for the first part of the hunting trip the day he died? But I understand that your father-in-law dropped him ashore hours before he disappeared. Lieutenant Rivard interviewed Mr. Jewett on several occasions, and his alibi for the afternoon was airtight. Now you’re telling me that he and your father-in-law were lovers?”

“No one knew about it at the time,” said Mrs. Chamberlain. “The idea was so unlikely, given their differences.”

“That’s not entirely true,” said Bibi.

Her mother grew red. “You knew and never told me?”

“I had suspicions, but it was no one else’s business. It still isn’t, if you ask me.”

“Bibi—”

I was concerned that if I didn’t interject now I would miss my chance. “What can you tell me about Mr. Jewett that isn’t in the file?”

Mariëtte smoothed her pants atop her thighs. The corduroy was worn there; she did this a lot. “He’s a retired Navy veteran who lives about a mile south of here. He’s one of those—what’s the word? Help me here, Bibi. Preppers? Survivalists?”

“Kooks,” said the daughter. “He believes the collapse of civilization is imminent and that the black and brown hordes will flee the inner cities to rape and pillage the good people of Stratford, Maine.”

Her Rhodesian mother cleared her throat. Bruce Jewett’s views on race relations were not what the self-proclaimed fugitive wanted to stress.

“I never understood what the professor saw in him, honestly, even as a hunting companion,” she said.

“Grandfather called Bruce ‘an acquired taste,’” said Bibi. “He told me, ‘If you can wait out his filibusters, Bruce can be quite insightful. He hides his intelligence behind a barbed-wire fence of SHTF nonsense.’”

“SHTF?” said Mariëtte.

“It stands for Shit Hits the Fan. The Second Civil War. The coming genocide of the white race.”

A dark expression passed over Mariëtte’s perfect face. She seemed to withdraw inside herself before slowly returning to the room. “Those things are not relevant. They are not part of the motive.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain,” I said.

“It is Jewett’s self-disgust that you must focus on,” she said. “That is the reason he killed the professor.”

“Oh, please,” said Bibi with a flourish of her nicotine delivery device. “The man who can’t accept his sexual identity—it’s a total cliché.”

Mariëtte cocked her chin. “Some stereotypes are true.”

“For the love of God, Mother.” Bibi put her head in her hands.

“I want to return to your accusation, Mrs. Chamberlain,” I said. “Based on what you’ve told me, I believe you’d be better off speaking with someone from the state police’s Unsolved Homicide Unit. I can give you the name and number of a victim witness advocate.”