A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #12) - Louise Penny Page 0,90

McDermot .45 came into its own in the First World War,” said Gamache. “In the trenches.”

“Oui,” said Lacoste. “Soooo?”

“It’s probably nothing,” admitted Gamache. “But you know that a copy of the map that was in Leduc’s bedside table was found in the stained-glass window in Three Pines. The one of the soldiers from the Great War. The soldier had the map, but he also wore a revolver. I’m guessing a McDermot.”

“Pardon?” said Gélinas. “I’m not following.”

“Are you saying the two are connected?” Beauvoir asked.

“Wait a minute,” said Gélinas, holding up his hand. “A map?”

“Yes. A few months ago, an old map was found in a wall of the bistro in Three Pines,” said Gamache. “We were talking about it yesterday in the meeting.”

“I remember, but you didn’t say a copy was found in Leduc’s bedside table.”

“It’s in the report,” said Lacoste.

Gélinas turned to her. “There’s a lot in the report. Not all of equal weight. That’s why context is important, don’t you think?”

He spoke as though lecturing a failing cadet. Then he returned to Gamache.

“You kept this from me.”

“We’re telling you now,” said Gamache. “A couple of weeks ago, before any of this happened, I decided to use the map as a training tool. A few of the cadets were invited to investigate it. I gave them copies of the map.”

“And one of them was found in the dead man’s bedroom?” Gélinas asked. “How did it get there?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” said Lacoste.

“Whose fingerprints are on it?” Gélinas scanned the report.

“There’re three sets,” said Beauvoir, not needing to consult his iPad. He’d read the report when it had arrived in his inbox that morning. And while not everything was memorable, a few things leapt out. Including this.

“Leduc’s, Cadet Choquet’s, and Commander Gamache’s.”

“Monsieur Gamache made the copies and handed them out,” said Lacoste. “So his prints would naturally be there. Cadet Choquet’s copy of the map is missing.”

“Then it’s his,” said Gélinas. “Who is this Cadet Choquet? He seems very involved.”

“She,” said Gamache. “Amelia Choquet. A freshman.”

Gélinas went back a page in the report. “I see her name in the list of people whose prints were on the revolver case and might be on the revolver itself.”

“Right next to Nelson Mandela’s,” Lacoste pointed out.

“Still, we need to speak to her,” said Gélinas. “Can you have her brought here now?”

“She’s not in the building,” said Chief Inspector Lacoste.

“Where is she?”

Lacoste looked at Gamache, who said, “Three Pines. I had her and three other cadets taken there the day of the murder.”

Gélinas stared at Gamache, his mouth open. Unable to process what he’d heard.

“You what?” he rasped. “Is that what was meant by the four cadets in the village? Not Saint-Alphonse, but your own village? Who are they?”

“The students closest to Professor Leduc,” said Gamache. “Amelia Choquet and Nathaniel Smythe are freshmen—”

“—Smythe? The one who found the body?” demanded Gélinas.

“Oui. As well as two seniors. Cadets Laurin and Cloutier.”

“And you knew?” Gélinas looked at the others.

When even Professor Charpentier nodded, the Deputy Commissioner exploded.

“Everyone knew, except me? Why? What are you playing at?” Now he was staring directly at Gamache. “Do you know how serious this is? You’re withholding evidence, you’re hiding witnesses. My God, man, what’re you doing?”

“I took them there to protect them, not to hide them. And the chief investigating officer knows exactly where they are. But it’s vital that no one outside of this room knows.”

“Well at least one person in this room didn’t know,” said Gélinas, his anger only mounting. “You had no right, no authority, to do that. You’re actively interfering with an investigation.”

“I had every right, and all authority,” said Gamache. “I’m the Commander here. These students are my responsibility. Their training is entrusted to me, and so is their safety.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Gélinas leaned close to him. “You’re as bad as Leduc. Treating the Sûreté Academy as your personal city-state. This isn’t the Vatican and you’re not the pope. You’re behaving as though you’re all-powerful. Infallible. Well, you’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“Not necessarily,” said Charpentier. “Tactically it makes sense if—”

“The fewer who know where the students are the better,” said Gamache, cutting off the tactician.

“Better for who?” asked Gélinas. “Not me. Not the investigation. Better for you, perhaps.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Beauvoir.

“Whose prints were on the murder weapon?” Gélinas demanded.

“Partials,” said Beauvoir.

“Whose prints were on the map? Who stayed with the body, refusing company, until others arrived?” said Gélinas. “How many minutes? Ten? Twenty? Plenty of time to set the