В сердце большого города скрываются тайны и загадки. Каждое утро открывает новый слой этой истории, напоминая о безвозвратности прошлого. Внутренние драмы и судьбы, переплетающиеся в пространстве и времени, создают непредсказуемую атмосферу будничной мелодрамы.
After disconnecting, I returned to the living room. While Ryan spent another thirty minutes questioning Fisher, I observed quietly.
In my absence, tears had again wreaked havoc on the vivid maquillage. Fisher’s anguish was heartbreaking.
Bastillo was another story. Her spine remained rigid, her stare fixed and devoid of compassion for her mother’s grief. From time to time the younger woman would recross her legs, or refold her arms across her chest. Otherwise, she sat motionless and without comment.
At last Ryan finished.
We both rose, repeated our regrets to Fisher and her daughter, and took our leave.
Back in the car, Ryan suggested we grab a sandwich.
“No, thank you.”
My stomach chose that moment to growl.
“I’ll take that as a metabolic veto of your decision not to lunch.”
Without further discussion, Ryan pulled into the parking lot of a Lafleur, Montreal’s answer to fast food. Rounding the car, he opened my door, bowed at the waist, and made a sweeping gesture with his free hand.
What the hell.
Lafleur is famous for its steamed hot dogs and fries. Steamé et frites. Though regulars register blood cholesterol counts that would classify them as solids, now and then every Montrealer eats at Lafleur.
Minutes later Ryan and I were seated at a Formica-topped table, four weenies and twenty pounds of fries between us.
My cell rang as I was starting my second dog. As usual Claudel wasted no time on greetings.
“Vous avez raison.”
I almost choked. Claudel was admitting I’d been right about something?
Ryan mouthed “Heimlich?” and stretched out his arms.
“Monsieur Stéphane Ménard was born Stephen Timothy Menard. Parents were Vermonters, Genevieve Rose Corneau and Simon Timothy Menard.”
“Fisher remembered correctly.”
“The Menards were schoolteachers who also owned and operated a small truck farm about fifteen miles outside of St. Johnsbury. Papa died in sixty-seven when the kid was five. Mama died in eighty-two.”
“How did Menard end up in Canada?”
“Legally.
“Menard has dual citizenship.”
“Yes.”
“But he didn’t take up residence in Canada until eighty-nine?”
“When Corneau died in 1982 Menard inherited the truck farm. Three acres and a two-bedroom house.”
I did a quick calculation.
