A Quiet Kill Read Online Free PDF Page A

her.”
    â€œI do believe she’s winking at you.” Liz grinned.
    Hay grimaced. He was well aware that police work sometimes attracted a particularly ghoulish kind of groupie. He was pleased to change the subject.
    â€œWe didn’t learn much from the program manager for immigration,” he commented. The immigration program head, a tiny woman sporting huge glasses, had not had much to offer. “A bit of a bluestocking. She didn’t have a bad word for anybody. Unless they’re all just terribly discreet in that profession. And she doesn’t seem to have known Guévin very well at all.”
    Liz wasn’t entirely sure what “bluestocking” meant but wasn’t about to admit it, so remarked, “Well, she said she’d only been here, what, three or four months? Following an assignment in Warsaw. So that’s quite plausible. Let’s hope we get more out of Lahaie.”
    As if on cue, Colonel Claude Lahaie, Canadian military attaché to the High Commission, strode into the room. He cut an impressive figure, standing well over six feet, with that easy yet commanding military presence. Lahaie had a strong face and a disarmingly genial manner. He was attired in full military kit. He could have “dressed down” today—it being Friday—but he felt that whenever he was on duty, especially in a foreign country, he was obliged to keep up appearances. He slid gracefully into the chair offered him and declined coffee.
    â€œOf course I know what this is about,” began Lahaie in lightly accented English. “A dreadful business. Natalie was a lovely woman.”
    â€œYou knew her well?”
    â€œNatalie wasn’t one to talk about herself. She was a very private person, quiet, dedicated to her job. Couldn’t abide pretense. She was a straight shooter but didn’t give much of herself away. So no, I didn’t know her well , but I liked and admired her very much.”
    â€œI understand,” said Liz Forsyth, “that you were riding companions?”
    Lahaie raised his eyebrows slightly. “Yes, we were.”
    â€œAnd you rode together often?”
    â€œAbout once a week. But we talked mostly about horses. There was nothing going on, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
    â€œI didn’t mean to suggest, sir . . .”
    â€œNo, but someone will suggest it for you. Posts are hotbeds of gossip—much of it without foundation. You might want to remember that.” Lahaie smiled. “My wife always found it quite funny. She likes—liked—Natalie a lot and found the rumors quite entertaining. Anyway, we were, as you say, riding companions. Natalie and I were the only serious riders in the office. She was very good, loved the animals. But when we were together our conversation was almost exclusively about the sport.”
    â€œDo you know if she had any enemies?”
    Lahaie looked steadily ahead. “Not personal ones, if that’s what you mean. But she had been receiving . . . threats.”
    â€œThreats?”
    Lahaie nodded. “From one of those environmentalist organizations. As you know,” he addressed this to Hay, “there are many in this country who choose to become excited about sealing in Canada. Load of hogwash if you ask me. If seals looked like snakes no one would give a damn. Eighty-five percent of them are shot, anyway, not clubbed. But this post has always been an especial target for such activists, and the trade position in particular usually takes the heat.”
    â€œAnd Natalie Guévin was a target?” asked Hay, his heart sinking fast. He had half-believed, half-hoped this to be an internal High Commission crime, preferably committed by a Canadian. The last thing he needed was some dreadful political fiasco.
    â€œNot at first. The issue has lost importance in recent years. Only lately has it made the newspapers again. And recently