THE NEXT TWO WEEKS drifted by in a routine of waking up, eating, doing physio, being updated on his progress by the doctor, getting visits from a handful of people—mostly Hélène, André Rousseau, Jean and Antoine—and trying to catch up on what was happening in the outside world.
Whenever she visited, Hélène had a load of stories about how well her move into his place was going, how much better it made her life and how she was looking forward to when they would share the apartment. She also disclosed she had changed his ragged bedroom curtains for something lavender-colored and willowy.
One day, he received a new visitor—a producer from the Nice TV station that had wanted to use him on the sports program. Burke expected he was going to lose the gig and paycheck.
But the producer surprised him, saying the job offer remained.
“A lot of people have been watching what’s been happening to you,” the producer said. “We’ve kept them up to date on your progress and have been promoting your participation on our panel.”
Burke was relieved. The TV gig would never make him rich, but it would pay a bill or two.
Another day, Fortin and Côté showed up.
“You won’t likely be called to testify in a courtroom,” Fortin said, forgoing any small talk. “It seems the lawyers for Madame and Gabriel Marois are ready to work something out.”
“But how could they do that? I mean, they plotted to kill Vachon—and then they killed him. That’s murder.”
“I’m aware of that,” Fortin said.
“And they tried to kill me,” Burke said, getting angrier by the second at the idea of some kind of plea bargain.
“There are other matters involved, and I can’t disclose them to you,” Fortin said.
Burke couldn’t change anything, and so he tried to calm down.
“Have you found out who drove the second car that hit either Vachon or his minder?” Burke asked.
Fortin shrugged. “Not yet, although we know it was the minder who got run over by that second vehicle,” he said. “We’re confident it was a genuine accident for that driver, though he or she should definitely not have driven off. If we find out who that person is, there will be charges, but we aren’t pushing hard to find out the driver’s identity. Right now, it’s just a case of someone being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Fortin told him he wouldn’t be making any more visits. He had all the information he needed for the Marois and Petit cases.
“You’ve been a pain from time to time these last two months, Monsieur Burke, but you’ve helped us in subtle ways that allowed us to resolve the cases.”
Burke recognized he was being thanked.
“And because of our successes in making good arrests, we are no longer being hammered by the media and the politicians and everyone else,” Fortin said. “In fact, we’re receiving praise from some quarters.”
Burke wondered if Fortin had been promoted.
“So, thank you, monsieur,” Fortin said, standing.
“You’re welcome,” Burke replied.
“And I say this with all respect, I hope I never see you standing in my office or in my police station again,” Fortin added and then left.
Burke watched him disappear.