CHAPTER 8
Melbourne had Clara unlock her device before taking it inside to do as I asked. Once we were alone, I faced Clara. "I need to ask you a few important questions, Clara. Is that okay?"
"I don't understand why I have to keep repeating myself." Her voice evaporated into blubbering sobs. "I told that lady everything I know. Where's my bébé? Just find him. I can't… Please. I need my bébé." She hugged herself and broke down again.
"And that is exactly what I want to do. Believe me, Clara. Before Giles left to go away this weekend, did you two get into a fight or have a disagreement?"
She sighed and rolled her eyes, dabbing the runaway mascara from underneath each. She shrugged and shook her head. "No. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"What does that mean exactly? The ordinary."
"Giles doesn't help much with Mathieu. I confront him sometimes, and he tells me that's why he hired me a nanny.
That's not what I mean, I tell him. He gets angry and tells me to go get a pedicure and relax. He doesn't have time for a bébé."
"Does he spend time with Mathieu when he's home?"
Clara shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes no. He's very busy, but I know he loves Mathieu."
"I'm sure he does."
I puzzled out what she wasn't saying. Leaving that angle for the moment, I changed directions.
"Clara, can you tell me exactly what you were doing and what happened up until the point when you discovered Mathieu missing?"
Her shoulders bounced as she cried harder, hands trembling as she shredded a tissue. "H-he was … n-napping. I … I … I was t-tanning. Isabella, she's the nanny, she left earlier, and we were all alone. Mathieu likes to have his dodo outside. I stay with him. I never leave him. You have to understand. I'm a good maman." She cried harder, her ability to converse compromised to a point her words blubbered out nonsensically.
I gave her a few minutes to blow her nose and find her composure before urging her to continue.
"My phone, it was ringing and ringing. I bring it with me outside when I'm tanning."
"Who was on the phone?"
"A man. H-he said he was from Service Canada." I frowned. "What did he want?"
"He s-said Giles did one of their surveys. A census thing." She waved a hand like she didn't quite understand what it was. "They needed to confirm something about his tax form. A number. I don't know these things. Giles does all this. Not me. They said there was an error on a document, and I had to check to see if the number was right. I told them to wait for Giles to come home, and the man said it was urgent."
"Did this phone call feel suspicious in any way?"
"N-no." She hiccupped and blinked wet lashes, her green eyes glimmering in the sunlight. "The man, he knew everything about my husband. Where he works. How much he makes. His social insurance number. All those things. It seemed proper."
"It's Saturday, Mrs. Paquet. Service Canada wouldn't make calls on a weekend."
"I know this now. I didn't think. He tricked me. He took my Mathieu. I am a stupid, stupid woman. Giles will be so angry with me." Her panic was rising, so I veered our conversation forward before I lost her again.
"Did you recognize the voice of the caller?"
She dabbed her eyes, shaking her head. "No. The call. It was not clear. There was static, and he sounded far away. A bad connection. Muffled."
"Can you describe the voice?" She sagged forward. "No."
"Did he have an accent? Did he speak French or English? Was the tone of his voice deeper or higher pitched?
Anything you can tell me will help."
"He spoke fast. English. Midtone? I don't know. Nothing stood out."
"Okay. So you went inside to retrieve the information he asked for. How long were you gone?"
"Five minutes. Maybe a little longer. I don't know. It could have been ten minutes. Giles keeps all that stuff in his office. I never go in there. He doesn't like me in there, so I didn't know where to find it. While I was l-looking, the man on the phone kept pressing. He said he needed this paper and that line, and I was confused. I don't know. Then after I told him I couldn't find it, he said he needed to put me on hold for a second. I needed to wait while he confirmed something. So I waited. Before he returned, the call… it stopped."
"He hung up?"
"My phone, it made the noise." She waved a hand as though I should understand.
"A dial tone?"
"Yes. Like that. I took the folder with the tax papers outside in case he called back. When I got off the deck, I saw the blanket was gone." She waved a hand at the pram nestled among the trees and surrounded by garden paths. "I always keep a blanket on top of the pram so Mathieu doesn't get too much sun."
Information filtered through my head. Ikeyo's warning that something was amiss with the carriage. The phone call that
turned out to be a ruse intended to distract Clara. The father who wasn't answering his cell and who'd displayed irritability toward his wife and child before leaving for a business trip.
"Was there a caller ID? Did a number show up on your phone?" It was a long shot.
"No. It said unknown."
"Excuse me, Detective?" Clara and I both turned at the gentle voice of Constable Melbourne.
The officer stood on the upper level of the deck, shielding her eyes against the sun with a hand.
"Sorry to interrupt, sir. I got a hold of Steven Ingles. He claims Giles Paquet was not sent away for business this weekend. As far as he's concerned, the man was off today. He doesn't know where he is."
"What?" Clara grabbed my arm. "He… He's… I don't understand. What does this mean? He… He wouldn't do this, Detective. You have to believe me. Giles would never take Mathieu away from me. Is that what you think?" The uncontrollable crying started anew.
"Ma'am." I placed a comforting hand on her arm.
She threw me off and pinned me with a hostile glare. "He wouldn't take him! Find my bébé."
An absent father. A missing baby.
I'd seen this scenario play out a few dozen times in my career. When marriages were rocky, when children came between loved ones, people did crazy things. The Paquets
might not be in an ongoing battle for custody over their child, but it didn't exempt Giles from being among my primary suspects. Parents, family, and close friends were often responsible for a majority of the cases involving missing children that I worked. Statistically, it was more
likely Giles had the child than a stranger.