The Nature of the Beast (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #11) - Louise Penny Page 0,95

of the architects of that gun we found in the woods,” said Gamache. No use hiding it since Brian had heard it all the night before anyway.

“Uncle Guillaume?” asked Brian. “But he was an engineer. He built overpasses.”

“Antoinette talked about him then?”

“Not much, and to be honest, I didn’t really ask. She seemed to like him, and he obviously liked her. You think she was killed because of him?”

“It’s possible. We think he might have kept the designs for that gun and someone went there to find them, maybe thinking she wasn’t home.”

“They’re worth a lot of money. I heard you say that last night.”

Gamache nodded. “That’s right. Do you have any idea at all whether those papers were in the house?”

Brian shook his head. “I feel useless. I think I should be able to hand them over to you, but all of this is news to me. I have no idea what’s happening. Did Antoinette know what her uncle really did?”

“We don’t know that either. We do know that there’s no evidence of him in your home. Can you remember anything? Even a photograph?”

Brian pursed his lips, thinking, then shook his head. “There might’ve been and I just didn’t notice. I don’t think I’m all that observant. I wish I’d been home. I should’ve been home.”

“Whoever did this would’ve just waited until you were gone the next time,” said Armand. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

Gamache didn’t say it, but he believed Antoinette’s life was over as soon as Laurent found the gun and started telling everyone, and when the CSIS agents decided not to tell anyone about her uncle.

“Did anyone ever come asking about Guillaume Couture?” Armand asked.

“Not that I know of. He died before I met her.” Brian looked down at his coffee mug, as though he’d never seen one before. “I don’t know what to do.”

Armand nodded. He understood that with loss came the overwhelming feeling of being lost. Directionless.

“I can’t go home,” said Brian. “Not yet.”

Gamache knew he meant emotionally, but he also wouldn’t be allowed home.

Not surprisingly, Lacoste had called first thing with the news that Mary Fraser and Sean Delorme had an injunction to search Antoinette’s home themselves. Alone. Though Gamache had the feeling the injunction was just for show. He was pretty sure they’d already been there. Already searched. Without benefit or need of legal approval.

“I might go to the theater today,” said Brian. “I think I’d feel close to her there. Better than sitting around the B and B all day. And I don’t really want to talk to anyone, you know?”

“Let me drive you,” said Armand, getting up. “I’m heading in that direction myself.”

At the door they found the clothing.

“Here,” said Armand. “Put on one of the sweaters while I make a phone call.”

He went into the study, closed the door firmly, then called a private number in Ottawa. It was eight thirty. After a brief exchange he hung up.

By noon they should know more about Mary Fraser and Sean Delorme.

Brian was waiting for him at the front door, wearing Armand’s favorite blue cashmere sweater.

“A bit big for you, I’m afraid,” said Gamache, rolling up the sleeves for him.

“Are you going to Knowlton too?” Brian asked.

“No, a few kilometers beyond. I can drop you at the theater then pick you up in a couple of hours, if that’s all right.”

He didn’t say he was going to Highwater. The fewer people who knew, the better.

As they drove away, Gamache saw Professor Rosenblatt sitting on the bench, bundled against the brisk wind and tossing bread to the birds. Autumn leaves, blown off the trees, swirled in a whirlwind about him, mixing with the excited birds and airborne bread so that it looked like nature had gone mad around the elderly physicist.

And once again, Armand was left to wonder why Professor Rosenblatt was still there instead of at home in front of his fireplace, safe and warm.

* * *

Clara and Myrna approached the bench and sat, one on either side of the professor.

“Good morning,” said Clara. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the howling wind. “How did you sleep?”

“I’m afraid I had a little too much to drink last night,” he said. “I came out here for fresh air.”

“Well, there’s lots of that,” said Myrna, trying to keep her scarf off her face. On the other side of the professor, Clara was fighting with her hair.

Rosenblatt offered them some of his stale bread to toss to the chickadees and blue