The Dead of Winter

TWELVE

JANUARY 3

12.30 PM

John Collins had disappeared or, more accurately, he had never reappeared. Everyone at Xeon knew him, or thought they did, but each said that he had been closer to someone else. Truth was he was close to no one. He worked among them but was alone. Nobody knew where he lived or what he did outside work. Just about everyone said he was a little strange, but no more than that, not strange enough to be unusual.

It was the same thing with his neighbours. They all recognized him and would nod to him in the street, but that was all. The police had questioned and re-questioned everyone who had attended the Circle of Christ sessions and, again, the face was familiar, but that’s where it stopped. They remembered him, but didn’t know him and never remembered seeing him with somebody. He was a loner, living within the hive as though he belonged, but passing his life in a universe of one.

Vanier was frustrated. It was like Collins had never existed. And Vanier didn’t know how to find someone who was so disconnected.

His phone rang.

“Anjili, any news?”

“News indeed, Luc. How did you know?”

“About what?”

“About Audet.”

“He’s the corpse?”

“There’s no doubt. The dental records, blood, measurements, height, everything matches. The corpse is Marcel Audet.”

“You’re certain.”

“Luc, we could do a DNA but it seems pointless. In my opinion, there is no doubt it’s Audet.”

Vanier took a long breath.

“So what does it mean, Luc?”

“I don’t have a clue. I need to think.”

“Any word on Collins?”

“He’s disappeared down a deep hole. That’s not so hard if you hardly existed anyway. His own mother couldn’t find him and he wasn’t even hiding. What chance do we have when he really decides to hide? And how does Audet show up dead in his van?”

“There must be a connection.”

“What was Audet up to that he ended up as cinders in the front seat?”

“That’s police work, it’s what you’re good at, Luc.”

“People get murdered for a reason. Like the priest.”

“Father Drouin?”

“Yes. He probably knew Collins, or knew where to find him. So Collins decided he had to go.”

“So perhaps Audet figured it out, too.”

“Perhaps. But if Collins killed Audet, he must have had a reason, and Audet must have had a reason for being with Collins. Listen, I have to go. Thanks for this, Anjili.”

“Any time.”

3:00 PM

This time, Vanier had steeled himself against the allure of Ayida and her wonderful coffee. He burst into the offices of Blackrock and walked straight by Ayida, turning right, in the direction that Markov and Romanenko had come from in the earlier meeting. Laurent followed, and then the receptionist, protesting with waving hands and Non, messieurs, non! Markov’s office was in the northwest corner, with a spectacular view of the mountain. He was on the phone and stopped talking as the two officers walked in.

“Got to go,” he said, putting down the phone.

“Officers, we have a receptionist for a reason.”

“Won’t take long, sir,” said Vanier, “Just a few additional questions.”

Romanenko entered the room, trying unsuccessfully to get in front of them to protect his client.

“Marcel Audet. Is he an employee of Blackrock?”

“I believe he may be on the payroll; I’d have to check. What’s it to you?”

“Let me ask the questions, sir. Is he or is he not an employee?”

“Like I said, I’ll check and get back to you,” said Markov, regaining his composure.

Laurent made a show of writing down the answers.

“Have you spoken to M. Audet recently?”

Before he could answer, Romanenko broke in, “Officers, this is completely unacceptable. You have no right to barge in here and subject Mr. Markov to questioning. Mr. Markov will cooperate entirely with you, but we will not accept these kinds of tactics.”

“So, let’s talk,” said Vanier.

Markov looked concerned and left it to Romanenko to answer.

“You need to make an appointment and, I should add, indicate what it is that you wish to talk about. Is that clear?” said Romanenko.

“Fine. So can we have an appointment?”

“Certainly”, said Markov, breathing easier as he opened a large diary. “How about Tuesday next, at 2.30 p.m?”

“I don’t think it will wait until then, sir,” said Vanier. “Tell you what, why don’t you call me tomorrow morning, after you’ve read the papers, and we can talk about why Marcel Audet, an employee of Blackrock Investments, was found dead in a car belonging to a certain Mr. Collins, a suspect in the homeless slaying.”

Vanier walked out and Laurent followed. Romanenko ran after them, pushed by Laurent, and caught up with Vanier.

“Wait! Let’s talk.”

“You’ve had your chance. Here’s my card, M. Romanenko, why don’t you call and make an appointment?”