But what had once been glances of recognition and even respect were now tinged, tainted, with suspicion. Even amusement. He was on the verge of becoming a joke.
But Armand Gamache could see beyond those looks, to the finish line.
* * *
That had been mid-June. A month earlier, almost to the day. Now Gamache glanced at the clock and stood.
“Time to get back to court.”
“How’s it going, patron?” asked Madeleine Toussaint, the head of Serious Crimes.
“As expected.”
“That bad?”
Gamache smiled. “That good.”
They locked eyes, and then she nodded.
“You have that report coming in from an informant on the Magdalen Islands,” he said. Trying not to sound too hopeful. Or was the word “desperate”?
She’d mentioned this in the meeting. There’d been interest, but nothing unusual. Only a handful of them understood just what that report might mean.
“Will you hear in time for the meeting at the end of the day?” Beauvoir asked.
“I hope. It all sorta depends on what happens at the trial, doesn’t it?” said Toussaint.
Gamache nodded. Yes. It did.
After Superintendent Toussaint returned to her office, Beauvoir and Chief Inspector Lacoste remained with Gamache.
“Speaking of the trial,” said Lacoste, gathering up her papers, “I’m not sure I’ve seen a prosecutor go after his own witness in such a way. And the judge sure hasn’t. She’s new to the bench, but not to be underestimated.”
“Non,” said Gamache, who’d noticed the sharp look in Judge Corriveau’s eye.
They walked the length of the corridor and the elevator arrived. Lacoste got off at her floor.
“Good luck,” she said to Gamache.
“Good luck to you,” he said.
“Almost there, patron,” said Isabelle, as the doors closed.
Almost there, thought Gamache. But he knew that most accidents occurred within sight of home.
* * *
“Chief Superintendent Gamache, you testified this morning that the figure on the village green in Three Pines returned the next day. How did that make you feel?”
“Objection. Irrelevant.”
Judge Corriveau considered. “I’m going to allow it. The trial is about facts, but feelings are also a fact.”
Chief Superintendent Gamache thought before he answered.
“I felt angry, that the peace of our little village was being violated. Our lives disrupted.”
“And yet, he was just standing there.”
“True. You asked how I felt, and that’s the answer.”
“Were you afraid of him?”
“Maybe a little. Our myths are so deeply ingrained. He looked like Death. Rationally I knew he wasn’t that, but inside, I could feel the chill. It was”—he searched for the word—“instinctive.”
“And still, you did nothing.”
“As I told you before the break, there was nothing that I could do, beyond speaking with him. If I could have done something more, I would have.”
“Really? Judging by the Sûreté track record of late, that’s not exactly true.”
That brought outright laughter from the courtroom.
“Enough,” said Judge Corriveau. “Approach the bench.”
The Chief Crown did.
“You will not treat anyone like that in my courtroom, do you understand? That was a disgrace—to you, to your office, and to this court. You will apologize to the Chief Superintendent.”
“I’m sorry,” said the Crown, then turned to Gamache. “I apologize. I let my astonishment get the better of me.”
The judge gave a small sigh of annoyance but let it stand.
“Merci. I accept your apology,” said Gamache.
But still, Gamache glared at the Crown attorney with such focus, the man took a step back. Neither the jury nor the audience could fail to see both the look and the reaction.
In the gallery, Beauvoir nodded approval.
“So you did speak to him again, that next morning?” asked Zalmanowitz. “What did you say?”
“I told him again to be careful.”
“Clearly not of you,” said the Crown.
“No. Of whoever he’d targeted.”
“So you no longer thought it was a joke?”
“If it had been, I don’t think he’d have returned. He’d spooked the village with his first appearance. That would have been enough, had it been a joke, or even vindictive. No, this went deeper. There was commitment. There was a purpose.”
“Did you think he meant to do harm?” asked the Crown.
That was a more difficult question, and Chief Superintendent Gamache considered it. And slowly shook his head.
“I didn’t really know what he intended. Harm of some sort, it seemed. He was intentionally threatening. But did he have an act of violence in mind? If he did, why warn the person? Why wear that getup? Why not just do it, under cover of darkness? Hurt, even kill the person? Why just stand there for everyone to see?”
Gamache stared ahead of him, deep in thought.
The Crown seemed at a loss. So unusual was it for someone to actually think