Free Asylum by Jeannette de Beauvoir

you wanted to find out about me, that’s where you’d look. I have online calendaring, my address book, my personal finances, reports, employee evaluations, e-mail … it’s all there.” I frowned. “Did they find her address book, or her daily planner anywhere? I didn’t see any in the office.”
    He didn’t have to consult his notes this time. “ Nada . So she’s probably like you, keeps everything on the computer.”
    I nodded, thinking of the messy desk, the papers everywhere. “We both use Macs,” I said slowly. “We probably have a lot of the same software for keeping track of life, for managing everyday stuff. There might be something there your colleagues didn’t see, or think was important.”
    “Did you try any passwords?”
    I shrugged again. “Her name, her street name, that was all. I didn’t know her birth date, but honestly, it could be anything. Her mother’s maiden name, a nickname, even something completely random. University accounts have really hard-to-guess passwords, and they get changed all the time, so who knows?” Ivan did that, generated a new password every week. But then again, Ivan worked with people whose minds were pretty good at trying to outsmart stuff like that. It was less likely that Danielle would have felt a need to be that safety-conscious. “Listen, I’ll write something official for the dean, see if that gives us entrée with the university IT guys. They can probably override her password in two seconds flat, maybe even over the network.”
    He was frustrated. “That’ll take time. We need to move on this, because the other computers were wiped. Maybe even remotely. Let me get it done through the department. Maybe a phone call will be enough.” He grinned, suddenly and vividly. “I’m close with one of our IT people. Maybe she can do it, or talk to her counterpart at UQAM. Get us access.”
    “She?” I smiled back at him.
    “Yeah,” he said. “ Definitely a she. You about ready to go?”
    I finished my cider. “Where to now? What’s the plan?”
    He signaled for the bill. “You want to take turns paying? I’ll take this one.”
    “Fine.” I nodded. “What’s the plan?”
    He counted out money. “I’ll call Monique and see if I can get the computer stuff started. If you’re right, then that’s critical.” He smiled at the waitress and she giggled. I mean, really, giggled . He had the strangest effect on young women.
    Julian stood up. “Then we’ll go see Danielle’s place together. I want you along, you might see something I haven’t. And then we’ll see about talking to frère Jacques.”
    “That’s not really his name?”
    “Cross my heart,” Julian said cheerfully, and held the door for me. “ Après toi. ”
    We were able to do both errands at once, as it turned out, because Jacques Leroux was sitting in his sister’s apartment when we arrived. Just sitting. Not reading, not watching television, not looking through her possessions. Just sitting.
    Julian presented his credentials and glossed over mine, then took another look at the man sitting dejectedly in the tapestry chair by the window and turned to me. “Madame LeDuc…?”
    Obviously dealing with the grieving was to be my role in this partnership. I said, as gently as I could, “Monsieur Leroux, please accept our condolences. Losing your sister in such a way is beyond terrible.”
    He looked at me as though seeing me for the first time, a big, burly man, without the laughter that sparkled around his sister’s face, even in her pictures. “Yes?”
    I sat down hesitantly on the edge of the sofa nearest him and said, as gently as I could, “Though it is no doubt painful for you, monsieur , it would help us if you could answer some questions.”
    “They’ve already been,” he said heavily. “The police.” He looked around as though expecting to see more of them. “They just left. An hour ago, perhaps. They have asked me many questions.” My, this was fun, following