A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15) - Louise Penny Page 0,55
you,” said Jean-Guy.
“Oui?”
* * *
Reine-Marie had walked around the village green and joined Olivier and Gabri outside the bistro.
“Jesus, he did hit you, didn’t he?” said Gabri, looking at the bruise on her face. “You okay?”
“Nothing Honoré hasn’t done, also by accident.” She touched her bruised cheekbone lightly. “I put frozen peas on it.”
They brought her up to speed on what had happened, and as they talked, she took another few steps away from Carl Tracey, who was sitting at a table on the terrasse. Drinking a beer. At eight in the morning.
“Does that remind you of anything?” Olivier asked.
“A clown in a sewer?” Gabri suggested.
“No, not him. Them.” Olivier gestured toward the three Sûreté officers on the village green.
Reine-Marie cocked her head, staring. And then she gave a short puff of amusement and recognition.
Isabelle. Jean-Guy. Armand.
Three colleagues.
Three friends. A trinity. Sturdy. Eternal. Together.
“Three Pines,” she said.
“Three Stooges,” said Ruth as she walked by and entered the bistro.
* * *
“I know I assigned this to you, that you’re the lead investigator, but do you mind if I take over?” Before Gamache could answer, Beauvoir held up his hand. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“You have a perfect right to assume command of any investigation. May I ask why?”
“This will probably be my last case with the Sûreté. With any police force. This’s the one I want to go out on.”
When Gamache didn’t answer, Beauvoir asked, “What is it?”
“Have you thought that maybe this isn’t the one you want as your final case?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re pretty sure we know who did it.”
“More than ‘pretty sure,’ I’d say. Tracey all but admits it.”
“He admits he beat Vivienne, not that he threw her off the bridge. He keeps insisting it was suicide, and we’re going to have a helluva problem proving it wasn’t at least an accident. And, as you said, even if we can prove it’s murder, it might be extremely difficult to convict the man.”
“We’ve had more difficult cases,” said Lacoste.
“True.”
“Are you reluctant to give it up? Because of Annie? I’ve seen how much you sympathize with Godin. More than usual.”
Armand smiled and nodded. “It’s true. This one’s gotten under my skin. And yes, because of Annie. I’m trying not to, but the truth is, I find myself asking how I’d feel, if … And even more since you told us Annie’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” asked Lacoste. When Jean-Guy nodded, she gave him a quick embrace. “Félicitations.”
“Merci.”
“I think you feel the same way,” said Gamache. “About Vivienne and Annie.”
“Not really.”
Gamache stared at his son-in-law, frankly and openly amazed. “I beg your pardon?”
“This is a terrible case, absolutely. But I haven’t personalized it.”
There was silence as Gamache watched him. And then spoke.
“You almost killed yourself trying to get to her body,” he pointed out. “I’ve seen you desperate to stop a murderer, but I’ve never seen you take it so personally.”
“I’m not.” Then he relented. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s hard not to. But I have my feelings well under control. Don’t worry.”
Isabelle Lacoste looked from one to the other. Both, she knew, were personalizing this. Far more than she’d ever seen. Far more than was healthy.
If they weren’t worried, she was.
“Bon,” said Gamache. “I’m happy to hand over the case. May I act as your second-in-command, patron?”
“For the first time?”
“And, with luck, the last.”
Beauvoir gave a small laugh and put out his hand. “Welcome aboard. I’ll try to go easy on you, son. Just don’t screw up.”
“You inspire me already, Chief Inspector.”
“Now, isn’t it your nap time?”
“You might want to consider grabbing some sleep yourself,” said Gamache. “Long day behind us and long day ahead.”
“Work still to be done. I need to set up an incident room.”
“I’m sure your second-in-command can do that.”
“You’re my second-in-command.”
Gamache gave a short grunt of laughter and clapped Beauvoir on the arm. “Well, good luck.”
But as he walked away, Armand’s smile faded. Replaced by a slight frown.
* * *
He called his RCMP colleague as soon as he got back home.
It rang. And rang. Finally clicking over to voice mail.
Gamache looked at his watch. The sun had been up for slightly over an hour.
The floodgates at the mighty dams had been open for slightly under an hour.
What was happening up there?
He left a message, then went upstairs, suspecting he wouldn’t be able to sleep. But the moment his head hit the cool, fresh pillow, he was out.
Reine-Marie, also exhausted, had joined him, and in their sleep they moved to the middle until their warm bodies touched.