“I yelled ‘Hi,’ but there was no answer. Of course.” He seemed to deflate a little at those last two words. “I hung up my coat and walked toward the living room and saw—” he gestured, but Chief Inspector Lacoste did not fill in the blank. “Everything was all over the place. I think I sorta went blank. Froze. And then I panicked and started shouting for Antoinette. I ran into the room and must’ve tripped because I ended up on the floor. That’s when I saw…”

“Saw what, Brian?” asked Lacoste quietly when the silence had gone on.

“Her foot. I’m not sure what happened next. I’ve been sitting here trying to put it together but it just seems like…” He struggled for the word. “I remember seeing her face, and her eyes. And knowing. I think I might’ve touched her because I remember feeling cold. And then thinking I was about to pass out. It was just too…”

He stared out the kitchen window and seemed to have ground to a halt, overwhelmed.

“What did you do then?” Lacoste asked.

She had the impression that had she not prompted him, Brian would have spent the rest of his life staring out that window. Stuck.

Lacoste glanced over at Jean-Guy, who also sat very still, absorbing it all.

“I panicked,” said Brian softly, not meeting their eyes. “I ran away. I had to get out. I went over to Madame Proulx’s place next door. She called the police.”

“Did you come back here?”

He shook his head. “Only when the police arrived. They asked me to come back with them, and they put me in here.”

The coffee was ready and Beauvoir poured them each a mug. When they’d taken a sip of the strong coffee, Lacoste resumed the interrogation. She made it sound like a conversation, but only a fool, or a man numb with grief, could mistake it for that.

“Can you tell us what you did last night?”

“I was in Montréal. The monthly meeting of the Geological Survey. We go through our reports.”

“Last night?”

“No, yesterday afternoon but I stayed over. Some of us go out for drinks and dinner after. We always do.”

“Can you give us the details, a phone number of someone who was there?”

“Yes.”

Beauvoir took it down.

“What time did you finish?”

“About eight, eight thirty. Not late.”

“Where did you stay? A hotel?”

“No, we have a pied-à-terre. Just a studio. I stay there when I’m in town for meetings and will have a few drinks.”

“Can anyone vouch for you?” asked Lacoste.

“Vouch for me?” he asked, and then it dawned on him, as it did every suspect eventually. That they were suspected. But unlike many, Brian didn’t get angry or defensive. He just looked even more frightened, if that was possible.