A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15) - Louise Penny Page 0,143
a demotion.
With the departure that evening of Jean-Guy Beauvoir to Paris, Gamache once again took over the homicide department. Respected by colleagues and subordinates, he was viewed with suspicion and worse by those who feared the power he wielded. No matter his official rank.
And Madeleine Toussaint had grown used to her own power. Used to the office. The deferential looks. The salutes. The respect of her community.
She wasn’t about to give it up. But to hold on to it, she had to diminish Gamache. And that meant one thing. A purge of his most powerful supporters.
“I’ve been looking at your health records, Isabelle.” She nodded at the dossier on the table between them. “The Sûreté demands a certain level of fitness, especially in its leaders. We have to act as role models.”
“Yes,” said Lacoste. “I know. I also know there are different sorts of fitness.”
The words hit home, but Toussaint tried not to show it. “I’m sorry to say we’ll have to pension you off. While you’ll keep most of your salary and your benefits, I’ll have to ask for your ID and your weapon back. Your security code will no longer be valid.”
If she’d expected an argument, Toussaint was disappointed. Isabelle Lacoste just nodded and put her hand in her pocket to bring out her Sûreté ID.
But instead what she brought out was her cell phone. Propping it against some books on the table, she hit play.
Chief Superintendent Toussaint watched with thin lips and narrow eyes.
She watched Jean-Guy Beauvoir dive across the screen. Reaching for the falling man.
She watched as he grabbed a handful of the man’s coat and hung on, even as he himself was dragged over the edge.
Her eyes widened as she watched Gamache leap forward. No time to think. He reacted instinctively.
She no longer saw him. He’d disappeared over the edge of the bridge. But she did see his hand. White-knuckled. Gripped onto the foot of the post.
As she watched, the hand began to slip.
Her mouth opened a little as the finger slid off. Isabelle Lacoste leaped forward to grab the hand. But someone was there before her. The former tackle, Cameron, was on his belly, reaching over the side.
There were shouts for help. Cries for help. A splash.
All this the Chief Superintendent knew. She’d read the report. But knowing and seeing were two different things.
Lacoste picked up her phone and turned it off.
Then she took an envelope out of her pocket and, placing it on the table, slid it toward the Chief Superintendent.
Isabelle Lacoste knew that the doctored video purporting to show Gamache killing unarmed kids had come from Toussaint.
It was done to discredit her predecessor, not expecting the real video to be found and released by some crazy old woman in a village that didn’t even, officially, exist.
And now it was gaining ground. Overtaking the fake.
Gamache’s own reputation was not only being restored, it was growing.
And this video, if released, would put the final lie to Toussaint’s doctored effort to show Gamache as a psychotic coward.
“What do you want?” Toussaint asked.
“That”—Lacoste gestured toward the envelope—“is the job I want. The job I will have.”
Toussaint nodded. Knowing, of course, what it said.
While Gamache could not be made Chief Superintendent, Isabelle Lacoste could.
Toussaint picked up the envelope, tore it open, and read. Then she looked across the table at Isabelle Lacoste. Perplexed at first, then realization growing.
“You must be kidding.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“We need to go,” said Annie. “They’ve almost finished boarding.”
Armand’s Sûreté credentials had gotten him and Reine-Marie past security. They stood with Annie and Jean-Guy by the gate at Trudeau International Airport.
Honoré was in Reine-Marie’s arms while Armand and Jean-Guy struggled with the travel stroller.
“Here,” said Reine-Marie. She handed the child to Annie, walked over to them, pressed a button, lifted some nylon, and up it folded.
The two men nodded to each other, Laurel and Hardy style.
Hm, hm, hm.
“Can I leave him here and bring you to Paris, Maman?”
“Oh, don’t ask me twice,” said Reine-Marie, taking Honoré back.
Dropping her face to his hair, she took a deep breath, then handed him to his grandfather.
The Air Canada representative approached. “I’m sorry, but we’re closing the gate.”
“Merci,” said Annie, and looked at her father.
“See you soon, buddy,” Armand whispered to the tired child, almost asleep in his arms. “You’ll love Paris. What an adventure you’ll have. And you’ll see your cousins Florence and Zora.”
He held Honoré in the pocket of his shoulder, resting his cheek on the little head, for a moment. Then he kissed his forehead and