The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #11) - Louise Penny Page 0,66

great pleasure consumed by grief.

“He didn’t do it, you know.”

“Pardon?” said Clara.

“I’ve heard the gossip, we’ve seen how people look at us. They want to say something nice, but they’re afraid we did it. Do people really think that?”

Clara knew that grief took a terrible toll. It was paid at every birthday, every holiday, each Christmas. It was paid when glimpsing the familiar handwriting, or a hat, or a balled-up sock. Or hearing a creak that could have been, should have been, a footstep. Grief took its toll each morning, each evening, every noon hour as those who were left behind struggled forward.

Clara wasn’t sure how she’d have managed if the grief of losing Peter was accompanied not by shepherd’s pie and apple crisp, but by accusations. Not by kindness but by finger-pointing. Not by company and embraces and patience, but by whispers and turned backs.

Al Lepage, the most social of men, the most jovial, had spent most of his time since the tragedy kneeling in a field. And no one had gone to get him.

“They don’t know what they’re saying,” said Clara. “They don’t realize the harm they’re doing. People are afraid and they’re grabbing at whatever they can no matter how ridiculous.”

“We thought they were friends.”

“You have friends. Lots of them. And we’re defending you,” said Clara.

It was true. But it was possible they could have done a better job. And Clara realized, with some shock, that part of her wondered if the gossip wasn’t perhaps, maybe, just a little … true.

“Well, they have something else to talk about now,” said Clara.

“What do you mean?”

She hasn’t heard, thought Clara. These two really were isolated. It was like a moat had been carved around them.

“The gun,” she began, watching Evie, who was looking blank.

Beyond Evelyn, out the window of Laurent’s bedroom, Clara saw a familiar car drive up and park beside her own. Behind it came two Sûreté squad cars. On seeing the look on Clara’s face, Evie turned, then rose stiffly to her feet.

“The police.” She looked at Clara. “Why? What was it you were saying about a gun?”

CHAPTER 20

“Al?” said Evie, approaching the large man planted in the field. “The police are here.”

Al Lepage remained kneeling on the ground but straightened up. And then he very slowly hauled himself upright. He turned and stared at his wife as though not quite understanding what she was saying.

Evie put out her hand and he took it in his massive hand. And she led him back to the house.

“Al,” said Clara as he passed, but while he looked at her, he said nothing.

Clara wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed invasive, and perhaps even ghoulish, to stay. She didn’t want to appear to be simply curious, collecting gossip. But to leave felt like running away, abandoning them.

She decided to stay. Laurent’s parents had been left on their own far too often and far too long.

“Monsieur, madame,” said Isabelle Lacoste. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask to search your home again.”

She glanced at Clara and gave the tiniest of nods of acknowledgment.

“Why?” asked Evie. “Has something happened? Is this about the gun?”

“Gun?” said Al. His slack face tightened up, and his eyes came back into something like focus. “What gun?”

“I was just telling Evelyn,” said Clara. “But I didn’t get to the details. I don’t think Al knows.”

The two Sûreté officers looked at Laurent’s father, wondering, of course, whether that was true.

“I don’t understand,” said Al.

If he did know about the Supergun, thought Beauvoir, he was doing a pretty good imitation of someone who was completely ignorant.

“The thing that was hidden under the netting,” said Lacoste. “In the woods. Where Laurent died. It’s a gun.”

“A cannon, really,” said Beauvoir, studying them. “A missile launcher. It’s called a Supergun.”

“Laurent was telling the truth,” said his father, staring at Lacoste, his eyes pleading for something, though she didn’t know what.

Forgiveness? For ignorance? For her, and her news, to go away.

“I didn’t believe him. I laughed at him.”

“We both did,” said Evie.

“No, you wanted to go and see, in case it was real.”

“But then he told us about the monster,” Evie reminded him. “There was no way to believe that.”

“Christ,” said Al. It sounded more like a plea, a prayer, than a curse. “Oh no.” Lepage shut his eyes and hung his head, shaking it slightly. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’re not the only ones who didn’t believe him,” said Lacoste. “None of us did.”

While she spoke kindly, Chief Inspector Lacoste never lost