A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15) - Louise Penny Page 0,98

Pelletier had been up most of the night, going over and over the file. The evidence.

She knew it was folly, and ethically wrong, to prejudge. But judges were, after all, human. And some cases were just obvious.

There was very little doubt in her mind who had killed Vivienne Godin. Nor was there much doubt about the outcome of the day.

Still, to be sure, she’d called up colleagues and asked opinions.

Then asked more colleagues, judges across the country, and collected more opinions.

She’d even phoned her old, now retired, law prof and gone through the case against Carl Tracey.

All, save one, said the same thing.

And now it was her turn to say it.

* * *

“There is, I’m afraid, a poisonous tree in this case.”

Jean-Guy Beauvoir stared at the judge in amazement, then turned to the prosecutor. Zalmanowitz’s mouth had fallen open. Beauvoir swiveled to look at Gamache, whose eyes were wide, his mouth also slightly open.

“It goes back to the very beginning,” said Judge Pelletier, her voice almost a monotone. “Even before Vivienne Godin’s body was found.”

“What’s she saying?” asked Homer, his voice below normal conversation, but above a whisper. “What does this mean?” He could tell, a child could tell, that something unexpected had just happened. Something bad. “What’s a poisonous tree?”

“In a minute,” whispered Gamache, glancing briefly at Homer before returning his attention to the judge.

“When Vivienne Godin’s overnight bag was found on the shores of the river—” Judge Pelletier turned to Beauvoir. “You did not have a warrant, I believe, to go onto that private property.”

Beauvoir shot to his feet. “No, Your Honor, we didn’t. But it was an emergency. The river was in flood, and it needed to be diverted. The law allows us to enter private property in an emergency. We don’t need a warrant to rescue people from a fire, for example.”

“True, but in going onto private property you didn’t just create a runoff for the flood. You discovered the victim’s duffel bag. Did you open it?”

“We did.”

Judge Pelletier nodded. “Oui. That’s what it says here.” She placed her hand on the papers in front of her. “There’s video evidence of that, too, which has been submitted. Your written statement says that upon opening it and examining the contents, you realized it belonged to the missing woman, which led you to the bridge, which led you to her body—”

“What’s happening?” Godin whispered, more urgently.

“Just listen,” said Gamache, keeping his voice low, calm, reasonable. He reached over and touched the man’s arm, feeling it so tense it might snap.

His own body was taut. He could see where this was going, though he barely believed it.

A poisonous tree? Surely not.

He’d become hyperaware of his surroundings. The world was bright and in sharp focus. Sounds were magnified. The smallest movement noted. Every word, every inflection absorbed.

It was the way he became when under attack. For this felt like an attack. Like someone had just tossed a grenade into the courtroom.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it from going off.

Off to the side, at the defense desk, he could see the court-appointed lawyer equally surprised. But unlike the prosecution, who was looking at the judge as though he’d been hit in the face, the defense was smiling.

Zalmanowitz, the prosecuting attorney, got to his feet. “If it pleases the court, there’s case law covering this. Where officers go onto private property to stop a crime being committed and in the course of that come across another crime—”

“True.” The judge stopped him there with an upraised hand. Predicting just this objection. “But no crime was being committed. A river was flooding. It was an act of nature. A violent one, potentially dangerous, granted. I have no doubt that the actions of the officers saved property if not lives. It was the right thing to do. Except when they found the duffel bag, they should have immediately applied for a warrant, before removing it. And certainly before opening it.”

Beauvoir, in near panic, looked once again at Gamache.

Gamache himself was shocked. Never had he heard such a severe, such a narrow interpretation of the law. He immediately scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to the prosecution, who read it and said, “Your Honor, a life was at stake. As you said, Madame Godin had not yet been found. She could have been hurt, or kidnapped. They needed to search the overnight bag, to determine if it was hers and if it could lead them to her. Which it