“Non. I… I do not know. I never gave it much thought,” André admitted. “We just used the other gate.”
“And what, he just packed up and went home, did he?”
“Ha! Chance would be a fine thing. Bernie was no quitter. He shouted. A lot. He told the new arrivals that they were being tricked, that I was stealing their money, and that, like all doctors, I was a charlatan.”
Logan stopped pacing. “Doctors?”
“Oui. I am a doctor.”
Logan looked the younger man up and down. “Of what?”
“Of alternative and holistic medicine.”
“Right,” Logan said. He took a moment to process this. “So, you’re not an actual doctor, then?”
“That depends on your definition of—”
“Are you licensed to practise medicine?”
André seemed amused by this notion, like the detective’s interpretation of the word was naive and childish.
“What is ‘licensed’ really, huh?” he asked. “Who gives some group or body the right to say, ‘Yes, you can do this, you can not’？”
“The government, I’d imagine,” Logan said.
“Exactly. And do you think the government has your best interests at heart? Hmm? Or do you think they wish to continue taking bribes from pharmaceutical companies, knowing all the while that sunlight and nature can cure all ailments? Do you think they wish you to know this? Non. They do not. They wish it to be kept secret, so they can profit at our expense.”
He crossed one leg over the other, then rested both hands on top of the uppermost knee. Judging by the look on his face, he felt like the argument had just been well and truly won.
Logan sucked in his bottom lip, then spat it out. “Right, so not a doctor, then.”
“You have your definition, Detective Chief Inspector, and I have mine,” André said. “Bernie considered me a doctor.”
“Bernie thought the world was a box and run by lizard people. I wouldn’t be taking his word as gospel on anything,” Logan said. “Speaking of which, what is with the whole Jesus thing by the way? Is that part of the shtick?”
“Stick?” André frowned. “Apologies. I do not understand the question. What about a stick?”
Logan sighed. “Doesn’t matter. So, Bernie was shouting, calling you a fraud—can’t think why—then what?”
“Then… he stopped. I do not know. He left.”
“Just untied himself and walked off?”
“Non. He was picked up.”
“In a car?”
“A van. Small. Like a car, but with… a van back. You know?”
Logan nodded. “Aye. Did you recognise it?”
“Non. It went west. Towards the lighthouse, I think. I did not watch for long.”
“Did you get any details? Registration? Can you give us a description, at least?”
“White. Small. Dirty. Rust above the wheels. I did not get number, no. I was just happy to see him go.”
“I bet you were,” Logan said. He began pacing again, this time talking as he walked. “You told me yesterday that Bernie didn’t affect your business. That this grudge he had wasn’t a problem.”
“Oui. That is correct.”
“And yet, a little birdie tells me that numbers are right down,” Logan continued. “By the sounds of it, Bernie’s antics have had a real impact on the number of new cult members coming through your door, or… tent flaps, or whatever.”
André uncrossed his legs, then crossed them again the other way. He adjusted his robe, sniffed, then shrugged. Throughout it all, he didn’t once stop smiling. “Attendance ebbs and flows, just like everything else. The Universe fluctuates. Seasons come and go. The tides rise and fall. It is the way of all things. Even here and now, in this room, there are changes going on, so subtle, that we do not see them. But they are happening. A wall may creak as it contracts. A window groans as the sun heats the glass. If I shout at the sky, would you blame me for the sunset, Detective Chief Inspector?”
Logan rubbed his temples, nursing the headache he could feel starting to build there. “No. Because that would be mental,” he said. “But shaking your fist at the sky isn’t the same as telling people they’re being ripped off, is it? There’s fuck all the sun can do, but people can always choose to take their business elsewhere. And by the sounds of it, that’s exactly what’s been happening.”