‘Here, read this while you’re waiting for your submissive teenager to come back. It’s your copy of the case file for the investigation into Firmin Cyr’s death. I’m going home now. I’ll have a look at my copy before I go to bed.’
Lefebvre walked over to the door and stopped, as if he had just remembered something. ‘Turns out one of the officers who worked that case is still floating around.’
‘In Gaspé?’
‘Yes. Maybe the two of you can chat tomorrow. I’ll get in touch and see what I can do.’
‘OK, thanks.’
Lefebvre retrieved his coat from the hallway and put it on.
‘Mind if I leave you to do the washing-up?’ he said, on his way out the door.
Thursday 4th October
Moralès was finishing his breakfast when Corine walked in the front door of the auberge with a spring in her step. He hadn’t seen her since Angel’s funeral.
‘Corine? Where were you?’
She looked at him and seemed taken aback. ‘Is there a problem, Joaquin?’
He realised he had come on a little strong. Maybe because he’d been waiting to interview her for the last few days and had started to suspect she was avoiding him. Or maybe because he hadn’t seen Sébastien since yesterday and that was tugging at his paternal heart strings. Or perhaps because he’d imagined them together and that had set him ill at ease.
‘No. No problem at all. I’m sorry. I was just worried because I hadn’t seen you.’
She hung up her coat and switched her autumn boots for indoor shoes as Joaquin got up to wash his dishes.
‘No one needed me here, and the grief felt like it was weighing me down, so I thought I’d go and spend three days at my boyfriend’s place. I told your son I was going. And I left my mobile number here just in case.’
She went over to the reception desk and pointed to a board on the wall where a number had been scribbled. Moralès hadn’t thought to ask Sébastien if he was aware of Corine’s comings and goings.
‘I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.’
‘Well, I do. He works at the microbrewery in L’Anse-à-Beaufils and he lives in Sainte-Thérèse. Oh, and he plays on the same baseball team as your colleague, Érik Lefebvre. The Sainte-Thérèse-de-Gaspé Mariners.’ She said it with comic enthusiasm.
‘I have a question to ask you, Corine.’
He returned to the breakfast table and reached into his file for the list of names she had given him the morning after his arrival at the auberge.
‘Why isn’t Kim Morin’s name on this list?’ he asked.
Corine frowned. ‘You asked me for the list of fishermen who were there that night. So I just wrote the names of the fishermen.’
‘Are there other people who were there that night whose names weren’t on your list?’
‘Yes. Louis Legrand, who’s a barman at the Brise-Bise in town, my boyfriend Gabriel Sutton and me.’
Moralès picked up a pen and added these names to the list.
‘I’m sorry, I misunderstood what you asked,’ Corine said.
‘What time did they all leave?’
‘Kimo left around two. She’s single and tends to get a lot of attention from men. She was getting fed up of them putting the moves on her. You know, the guys were letting their hair down at the end of the season, and they’d had a fair bit to drink…’
‘Who was putting the moves on her?’
She hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure what to answer.
‘Plenty of guys…’
Moralès stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate.
She took a deep breath. ‘Oh, all right then. You know I don’t really like answering those kinds of questions, but it seems to be important … Kimo spent all last week on an emotional roller coaster, and to be honest that’s partly why I went away for a few days. I’m a friend, not a therapist. And sometimes I have a hard time wrapping my head around complex relationship stuff, so I tend to put my foot in it without meaning to.’ She stood rigidly and spoke like a teacher reciting a lesson. ‘Kimo’s been single for a long time. Maybe men are intimidated by her athletic physique, I don’t know. But back in the spring, she went out to watch the boats going back in the water after the winter, because she likes that kind of thing, especially the big shrimp trawlers. Anyway, Bruce Roberts soon invited her aboard, and they started to see each other. But not long after that, Clément Cyr invited her aboard his boat as well. It’s almost like he was jealous of Bruce, you see?’
She waited for him to say yes before she continued.
‘Bruce is a shy kind of guy, but the drink brings him out of his shell. So he had a few the other night to try and win Kimo back. But you know how men get when they’ve had a drink, and Clément was trying it on with Kimo too. He was as drunk as a skunk. It’s creepy when you think about it, because right around the same time, his wife was taking her own life. So Kimo’s ticked off at Clément, and she feels guilty for what happened. I mean, it’s normal to be a bit shaken up, but it was a suicide. It’s not like Kimo killed her.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘You know, Kimo wouldn’t hurt a fly, but try and put yourself in her shoes. She’s been single for three years, then out of the blue two guys come along and are all but ready to fight over her. Of course, you’re going to say she should have just chosen Bruce, because he’s single, but it’s not as simple as that.’
She toyed nervously with a salt shaker and pepper mill that were minding their own business. So many words were pouring from Corine’s mouth, standing there in the dining room at the auberge, she could power an electric turbine, Moralès thought.
‘Kimo’s an athlete. She’s competitive by nature, and winning competitions and medals isn’t just something she wants, it’s something she needs. And she’s very physical, if you know what I mean. Angel Roberts was like a superwoman around here. Even I have to admit I admired her. It took some guts to be a woman fishing in a man’s world.’
It struck Moralès that she must have been wrestling with her conscience in the last few days, and that her boyfriend had likely encouraged her to tell the police everything.
‘I think that in Kimo’s mind, Angel was probably the stiffest competition she could find in the whole of the Gaspé. It was a pride thing. The woman who’s a model of strength, the one we all aspire to be, is right there, and you’ve got the chance to get your rocks off with her husband. Talk about a trophy to hang on your bedpost.’
Her eyes widened in horror at what she’d just said.
‘I know that sounds brutal. It’s not the kind of competition that deserves a trophy, but who are we to judge Kimo? She’s not a bad person. She’s just a single woman in a man’s world. Are you with me?’
Corine sighed deeply, as if she were squeezing a beach ball against her chest to get all the air out. Revealing everything and navigating a maze of explanations to get to the bottom of it all had left her exhausted. She pulled out a chair and collapsed into it.
‘Louis Legrand left around three in the morning. My boyfriend stayed the night here with me. We tidied up the next day. Louis was supposed to come back and lend a hand, but we called him and said not to bother.’
Moralès gave her a gentle smile. ‘Is there anything else I should know about that evening, Corine?’
She looked at him, sorry to have kept him in the dark for so long, and shook her head.
‘Did Kimo go up to see Clément Cyr in his room?’
‘No. I’d tell you if that had happened. Kimo found it insulting when drunk men came on to her. She might have slept with him, but only if he was sober. It would have been humiliating for her if he’d been on the sauce. Otherwise she might have ended up in bed with Bruce, but he was drunk as well. Eventually she just got fed up and left. By that point, things were just about wrapping up anyway, and I didn’t really need her here anymore.’