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That she told him the baby wasn’t his and that she was leaving him. That she’d gone off with some lover.

Tracey admitting to hitting her that Saturday night. And then going into his studio with a bottle, getting wasted, and passing out. When he woke up, she was gone.

“Okay,” said Zalmanowitz. “That’s his version of what happened. We know it’s all bullshit. How did he seem to you, Armand, when you first spoke to him?”

Gamache thought back. It seemed months ago now, not mere days. “Belligerent. Violent.”

He described the pitchfork and the shouts to get off the property.

“Not very cooperative,” said Zalmanowitz. “The one good moment from a shitty day was the judge asking Tracey why he didn’t want you to open the duffel bag, if he was so worried about his wife. It’s a good question. A telling question. It must eat her up to have to release him. But you know, something’s bothering me. After meeting Tracey and hearing more about him, I can understand him killing someone. What I don’t understand is the method.”

“How so?” asked Gamache.

“Wouldn’t you expect this fellow to do something stupid and brutal?”

“Throwing his pregnant wife off a bridge to be battered and drowned in a freezing river isn’t brutal enough for you?” asked Lacoste.

Zalmanowitz regarded her. “No. It’s not. Given his history, I’d have expected something simpler. More hands-on. Beating her to death. Shooting her. Hitting her with a shovel and burying her. Why throw her off a bridge half a kilometer away?”

“Maybe it was Pauline Vachon’s idea,” said Lacoste. “She seems smart.”

“No messages to support that it was her idea?”

“Where she suggests throwing Vivienne off the bridge?” asked Lacoste. “Yes, but we decided not to show you.”

For one brief moment, Zalmanowitz believed her, then lowered his brows.

“Of course there weren’t,” said Lacoste. “They must’ve come up with the plan when they were together. We’ve canvassed the neighbors. A few saw him entering her place last week. She says that was for business.”

“Right,” said the prosecutor. “And even if there were explicit posts, describing it in detail, we couldn’t use them, thanks to NouveauGalerie and that agent.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Lacoste repeated. “Like I said, she ran it by me and I approved. Encouraged her, even. So lay off her.”

“Okay, sorry, you’re right,” said Zalmanowitz. “Back to the bridge. How did Tracey even get Vivienne there?”

“The coroner thinks the most likely explanation is that he beat her senseless at home, put her in the car, and drove her to the bridge,” said Beauvoir. “Her blood on the car handle and steering wheel might’ve come from her blood on his hands.”

“But that doesn’t explain his boot prints,” said the prosecutor. “How would they get under the car if he drove her there?”

“Made when he was scouting the place, maybe,” said Beauvoir. “We don’t really know the details. And probably never will. Another possibility is that part of what Tracey said is true. Vivienne arranged to meet her lover on the bridge. Tracey overheard and got there first.”

“Okay,” said Lacoste. “But then, what happened to the lover? And when did she call him? There were only five calls out of the house that day. Four to what we think is a wrong number and one to her father.”

“You said you believed Bertrand when he said he didn’t know her,” said Gamache. “Is it possible you were wrong?”

Lacoste considered. “It’s always possible.”

Gamache nodded, even as he recognized it for what it was. Desperation. But sometimes that uncovered something useful.

And they had precious little left to them except desperation.

“All right, let’s walk through it,” said the prosecutor. “Vivienne is afraid. She calls her father, telling him she’s leaving her husband but has to choose her time. That evening Tracey beats her senseless, and then, either thinking she’s dead or trying to work up the courage to finally kill her, he goes into his studio and gets drunk.”

“Then Vivienne regains consciousness and calls Bertrand, her lover,” said Beauvoir. “Begging for help. Telling him to meet her on the bridge. But this Bertrand fellow doesn’t show up. She was a fling to him, nothing more. He sure didn’t want to get involved with a pregnant woman running from a dangerous husband.”

“Vivienne gets in the car and drives herself there,” said the prosecutor. “Bertrand doesn’t show, but Tracey does. He’s waiting for her. He throws her off the bridge and tosses the bag in. The one he’d already packed, according to the posts.”

“There is another possibility,” said Gamache. They turned to him, and he sat forward. “That Bertrand did show up.”