A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #12) - Louise Penny Page 0,123
leave us. I’m finished for the day anyway. Thank you for staying.”
Madame Marcoux hesitated at the door.
“It’s all right, Chantal.”
With a severe look at Beauvoir, she left, closing the door softly behind her while the two men stared at each other.
“We found out about the silencer,” said Beauvoir. “Made by a company in Tennessee. It specializes in customized weapons. They have a record of Leduc’s order. He must have smuggled it across the border.”
Gamache made a sound of disapproval but not of surprise, and waved toward the sitting area of his office. Away, Beauvoir noticed, from his desk. And the closed laptop.
“Is that what you came here to tell me?” asked Gamache, sitting down and taking off his reading glasses.
Beauvoir took the chair across from him and leaned forward. “The joke’s over, patron. What’s this about? What’re you doing in here?”
“Beyond the fact it’s my office?” There was an edge of annoyance in Gamache’s normally composed voice. “What do you want, Jean-Guy?”
Beauvoir, faced with such a simple question, felt overwhelmed.
He wanted to know why Monsieur Gamache had hidden away all day.
He wanted to know why he’d just closed his laptop. What was on it?
He wanted to know why he’d really taken those students down to Three Pines.
He wanted to know why Gamache’s fingerprints were on the murder weapon.
He wanted to know why he’d specifically asked for Paul Gélinas to join the investigation, and lied to Chief Inspector Lacoste, and himself, in the process.
He wanted to know who Amelia Choquet really was.
And he wanted to know who killed Serge Leduc, because in the early dusk it was slowly dawning on Beauvoir that Monsieur Gamache might know.
But Jean-Guy Beauvoir sat there, mute. Staring at the familiar face, the familiar man. Who was becoming a stranger.
“I want you to let me in.”
Jean-Guy’s eyes left Gamache’s, and he slowly turned his head to the desk and the closed computer.
“Why does Paul Gélinas suspect that I killed Serge Leduc?” asked Gamache.
“I think it started with the fingerprints.”
Gamache nodded. “And how did my prints get on the murder weapon?”
Beauvoir sat there, a lump forming in his stomach.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper. “But they’re only partials. They’re obviously not your prints.”
“Oh, they’re mine.”
And now there was complete silence. Except for the thrumming in Beauvoir’s ears, as the blood abandoned his extremities and ran to his core. Retreating. Running away. And leaving him light-headed.
“What’re you telling me?”
“You and I both know that partials aren’t admissible,” said Gamache. “We tell people we don’t take them seriously. But the fact is we do. And we should. How often have they led us to the murderer?”
“Often,” admitted Jean-Guy.
“And they do this time too.”
“You’re not—”
“Confessing? Non. I have never touched that gun. I didn’t even know he had it, and would never have tolerated it had I known.”
“Brébeuf’s partials are on the gun. Are you saying it was him? But he’d have wiped the gun. As would you. Amelia Choquet? Her prints were on the revolver, and the gun case, and it was her map. Is she the one who killed him?”
Into the silence he placed another question.
“Who is she?” Jean-Guy asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Who is she?” Beauvoir asked again, more firmly this time. “There’s a personal connection, isn’t there? That’s why you reversed the earlier decision and admitted her to the academy. Paul Gélinas was right.”
“Yes, he was. But I need to speak to Madame Gamache first.”
“Is she—”
“I won’t tell you any more, Jean-Guy. And the only reason I’ve gone this far is because I trust you.”
“But not enough to tell me the truth.”
“I have told you the truth. I just can’t tell you more right now. You need to trust me.” Gamache got up, and Jean-Guy rose with him. They walked to the door.
“Do you know who killed the Duke?” asked Beauvoir.
“I think I do, but I have no proof.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t. But I will tell you that the key is in the fingerprints on the revolver.”
Beauvoir stopped at the door, his foot against it so that Gamache couldn’t open it. “Deputy Commissioner Gélinas is planning to arrest you for murder, isn’t he?”
“I think so.”
“But you don’t seem worried.”
“Just because I’m not screaming up and down the hallways doesn’t mean I’m not worried. But I’m not panicked. He has his plans and I have mine.”
“You must regret bringing him in,” said Jean-Guy. “Why did you? You went behind Isabelle’s back to do it. You’d never have tolerated that when you were chief inspector,