The Dead of Winter by Peter Kirby Read Free Book Online Page A

but no, I don’t have a Santa Claus costume. Why do you ask?”
    â€œJust one of the questions that we’re working on, that’s all. And where were you on Christmas Eve?”
    â€œMe? You think I could have killed these people? Really, Inspector, that’s going too far.”
    â€œI’m sorry if the question upsets you. But I would like an answer.”
    â€œI was at home until about 10 p.m., with my wife. I went to Midnight Mass at the Cathedral. My wife stayed home. She was tired. After Mass, I came home.”
    â€œThank you, Doctor,” said Vanier. “One last thing. Could I have a copy of your files on these people?”
    â€œI can’t turn them over just like that, it’s a question of patient confidentiality. But if the Coroner’s office calls, I can have the files copied and delivered tomorrow. I need an official request.”
    Vanier sat back in his chair, hoping that silence would prompt the doctor to say something, if only to fill the void. Grenier continued staring at the photos for a few moments and then looked up. “Is there anything else?”
    â€œI don’t think so. But don’t hold back on me, Doctor. If there’s anything you think might help me, you should tell me.” Vanier stood up and leaned forward with his hands on the desk leaving grease marks on the polished surface. “What are you thinking about that you can’t tell me?”
    Grenier tried to look Vanier in the eyes but could only manage it for a moment. “There is nothing. I’ve told you what I know.”
    â€œMaybe. But what about what you suspect? Do you have any hunches, Doctor?”
    More silence. Grenier was waging an inner battle. “There is nothing more, Inspector.”
    â€œIf only life were so easy. If only we could choose to avoid the difficult by ignoring it. Doctor, I need help and I get the impression that you’re not being entirely candid with me. I think you’re holding back.”
    â€œThat’s an outrageous suggestion. If I knew something that might help you I would tell you.”
    â€œDoctor, I love my job. And sometimes I get calls from lawyers, from the Chief, from the Mayor’s office, asking, Why are you persecuting this poor man ? I love those calls. If I weren’t good at what I do, my ass would have been canned long ago. But I get results. And if I find out that you’re holding something back, I’ll be persecuting you.”
    â€œAre you suggesting…?” he asked, indignant.
    â€œNo suggestions. I don’t believe in coincidences and neither do you. These people were killed, and I’m going to find the killer. If you know anything and choose not to tell me, that’s your problem. But when I find out who did this, I’ll figure out if you haven’t been entirely cooperative, and I’ll come back for you. Accessory? Withholding evidence? Who knows? But I’ll be back to haunt you. As for the killer? Pray to St. Jude for him, because his really is a hopeless case. I’ll get him.”
    â€œYou don’t even know that they were killed.”
    â€œI don’t believe in coincidence, Doctor.”
    Vanier lifted his hands from the desk and stood up.
    â€œOne last thing, Doctor. They don’t stop. You know that, don’t you? Once they start, they don’t stop. If you know anything and don’t tell me, the next victim is yours. So why don’t you go through your Top 10 list and try to predict who that will be. Here is my card, Dr. Grenier. Call me. I don’t sleep well, so anytime is good.”
    Vanier handed him the card. “I can see myself out.”
    He left Grenier motionless at his desk, looking at Vanier’s business card. Grenier hardly noticed him leaving.
    9.30 PM
    The Cathedral, Marie Reine du Monde, squats on a downtown block next to the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, imposing the Catholic Church’s presence on Montreal. It’s