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“These men want to talk to him.”
    She nodded and slipped away on silent feet.
    “Children at school?” I asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Paulette not here today?”
    “Who?”
    “The housekeeper.”
    “Oh. She quit.”
    “Why?”
    He shrugged. “You know how superstitious these people are. Bloody Vodou. She thought Marie’s ghost was haunting the place or something. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have calls to make. The laundry room’s through the kitchen. Across the courtyard.”
    We found our way easily enough. The room was large, with a modern washing machine and dryer. A row of laundry detergents was neatly placed on a high shelf. An ironing board was propped in a corner beside the iron. School uniforms, clean and folded, were stacked on a table. Alphonse stood against the far wall. He rubbed his hands together, and his eyes darted between us.
    The interview did not begin well.
    “Why did you kill Mrs. Hammond?” LeBlanc asked.
    Alphonse’s skin was very dark. But I swear he almost turned pale. “I…I…,” he stuttered.
    “Did she reject your advances? Did she threaten to tell her husband?”
    “Hold on here,” I said.
    “Don’t interfere,” LeBlanc snapped at me.
    I ignored him. “Alphonse, did you get on well with Mrs. Hammond?”
    “Yes,” he said. “She was very nice. She was a kind woman.”
    “Kind,” LeBlanc snapped. “How kind?”
    There was nothing I could do to turn this into a fair interview. I’d written up a report the previous night on what Hammond had said and sent it to the judicial branch. My report had been a recitation of the facts as Hammond told them to me. Clearly, LeBlanc had taken it as gospel. His assumptions had then been reinforced by Nicholas.
    By the time the interview was over, Alphonse was trembling. His dark eyes filled with tears. “Please,” he said. “I would never hurt her. She was a good woman.”
    “That’s what you say,” LeBlanc said. “You are under arrest.”
    “Can I have a word, agent?” I asked.
    LeBlanc looked like he was about to say no. But he nodded. We walked into thecourtyard. The floor was cement. It was surrounded by concrete walls. Heat rose in visible waves.
    “You can’t arrest a man on rumor and hearsay,” I said.
    “If I let him go,” LeBlanc said, “he will disappear into the countryside. Perhaps over the border. We do not have the resources to find him. This is not like Canada.”
    He was right. But I didn’t like it.
    “If he is innocent,” LeBlanc said, “then he has nothing to fear.”
    That I doubted very much.
    We returned to the laundry room. The gardener hugged his arms. His head was down.
    “You will come with us,” LeBlanc said. He turned and walked out, leaving me to bring the prisoner. I took Al’s arm and led him into the house. I could feel him tremble.
    We found Gail Warkness sitting at the kitchen table, tapping on her phone. A tall glass of iced tea was at her elbow.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked.
    “Protecting the interests of an American citizen,” she said. “Hammond called my office. He said you were here, asking questions.” She stood up and thrust her hand toward LeBlanc. “Gail Warkness. United States Embassy.”
    LeBlanc shook.
    Warkness glanced at Alphonse. “Did he do it?”
    “Being brought in for questioning,” I said.
    LeBlanc marched out of the kitchen. Warkness followed. I was left to bring Alphonse.
    Hammond did not appear. Nicholas smirked as he opened the garage door to let us out. Alphonse kept his eyes fixed on the ground. His shoulders were slumped. He looked like he’d given up already.
    Pierre stuffed the gardener into the back of our truck. LeBlanc said he’d meet us at the police station. Warkness shook his hand again. She smiled and said she’d fill Hammond in. She didn’t give me another glance.
    “Did he confess?” Pierre asked when we pulled into the street.
    “Nowhere near it,” I said.

SIX
    W hen we got to the police station, LeBlanc wouldn’t