A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #12) - Louise Penny Page 0,101

and another bone, or a piece of hair, that might be human. Or mouse.

And each time the verdict. Not human.

But Michel and Armand developed a pet theory. Their finds were in fact some poor victim, and Dr. Nadeau the killer. Covering up. They didn’t believe it, of course, but it became a running joke. As was their search for more and more ludicrous things to take to the poor man for analysis.

“Gamache?” said the RCMP officer. “Do you think Brébeuf is still a good man, underneath?”

“I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t think there was good still in him,” said Gamache, the distant laughter echoing off the glass and concrete.

“But do you regret the decision? Do you think he killed Leduc?” asked Gélinas.

“Not long ago you were accusing me, now you’re accusing him,” said Gamache, taking the steps down, his hand on the rail. He stopped on the landing as cadets raced by, late for class. They paused to salute, then ran on, taking the stairs two at a time.

“I’ve found in homicide it’s natural and even necessary to suspect everyone,” said Gamache, when the stairwell was clear, “but best not to say it out loud. Undermines your credibility.”

“Thanks for the advice. Fortunately, in the field of homicide, I have no credibility.”

Gamache grinned at that.

“I actually thought you might’ve done it together,” said Gélinas, as they continued down the steps.

“Killed him together? Why in the world would we do that?”

“To get rid of a problem. You wanted Leduc dead, to protect the cadets. But you couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it. But you knew someone who could. Someone who owed you. That would also explain Brébeuf’s presence at the academy. As an object lesson for the students, perhaps, but mostly as a tool for you. To get rid of someone you couldn’t just fire. So while it was your idea and planning, Brébeuf was the one who actually did it. It was one last spectacular amend for what he did to you.”

“And now?”

“I no longer think that.”

“And yet you just asked if I thought he’d killed Leduc.”

“I asked if you thought he did it, I didn’t say I thought so.”

“You mean you wanted to see if I’d throw him under a bus, to save myself?”

Gélinas was silent. That was exactly what he’d done. He’d handed Gamache an opportunity to condemn Michel Brébeuf. And he hadn’t taken it.

“Brébeuf is the only person in this whole place who actually needed the dead man alive,” said Gélinas. “While I said I’d learned never to underestimate hatred, I’ve learned something else since the death of my wife.”

Gamache stopped at the next landing and gave his full attention to Paul Gélinas.

“Never underestimate loneliness,” said the Mountie. “Brébeuf wouldn’t kill the only person not just willing but happy to keep him company. What did he call Leduc?”

“His life raft. And now? Are you still lonely?”

“I was talking about Brébeuf.”

“Oui.”

He paused to let Gélinas know he was listening, if he wanted to talk. The RCMP officer said nothing more, but his lips compressed, and Gamache turned away to give the man at least the semblance of privacy.

He looked out the window, across a snowy field gleaming in the sun, to an outdoor rink where the village children were playing a pickup game of hockey. One of the last of the season. Even from a distance, Gamache could see the puddles where the ice was melting. Before long the rink would be gone, would be grass, and another game would begin.

It seemed not so much a window as an opening into another place and time. A million miles from where they stood.

“I remember doing that on the lake at our chalet in the Laurentians,” said Gélinas, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “When I was a kid.”

When I was a kid, thought Gamache. Now there was a sentence. When I was a kid …

The two men stood in silence, watching the game.

“They could be using the indoor rink of the academy,” Gélinas gestured toward the arena. “But maybe they prefer to be outside.”

“Would you have?” asked Gamache, and Gélinas smiled and shook his head.

“Non. Give me a warm arena and scalding hot chocolate from the vending machine after the game,” he said. “Heaven.”

“The mayor has stopped them coming to the academy,” said Gamache.

He watched as one of the players had a breakaway and another plowed him into the snowbank surrounding the rink. There was a great poof of flakes and then they emerged, covered