Kingdom of the Blind (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #14) - Louise Penny Page 0,32
hurled it in his face.
“Excusez-moi,” he said to the Commander, who was staring at him with something close to loathing. “May I use your office? Privately?”
“Of course.”
Gamache placed a call, though the door wasn’t quite closed and the Commander heard. Because he was listening.
“She’s left. Follow her.”
The Commander understood then what Gamache had done. What he was doing. What had almost certainly been the plan all along.
Chief Superintendent Gamache was releasing the young woman into the wild. And where would she go? Back to the gutter, certainly. And there, amid the filth, she would search out more dope.
She would lead them to the trafficker. And perhaps the rest of the opioids that the head of the Sûreté du Québec had allowed into the country.
Chief Superintendent Gamache would recover the drugs and save any number of lives. But he would have to step over the body of Amelia Choquet to do it.
As he watched Gamache leave the academy, the Commander didn’t know if he admired the head of the Sûreté more. Or less.
He also harbored an unworthy thought. And as much as he tried to dismiss it, the idea refused to leave.
The Commander wondered if the Chief Superintendent had planted the drugs himself. Knowing this would happen.
* * *
In his car, before heading to the rendezvous with Myrna and the others, Armand took off his gloves, put on his reading glasses, and held the book between his large hands.
Then he opened it, revisiting the familiar passages. An old friend.
As he flipped through the dog-eared pages, he found lines she’d underlined.
“It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”
And he thought of the click, click, clicking he’d heard as Amelia had passed him in the hallway. Her tell.
Save Our Souls.
CHAPTER 13
“Armand, you need to hear this.”
Gamache had barely arrived at the home of Bertha Baumgartner’s eldest son when Myrna dragged him into the living room, where they’d all assembled.
He’d taken off his coat, tuque, mitts, and boots and now stood in stocking feet quickly taking in the room. Bookshelves were built along the far wall, with books and framed photos and the mementos people accumulate. There was art on the other walls. None of it avant-garde, but some decent watercolors, a few oil paintings, some numbered prints. Windows looked onto the backyard, with mature trees and lawn covered in deep, bright snow. A fire was in the grate.
The room was done in muted, slightly masculine shades of beiges and blues. It was a room, a home, that whispered comfort and success.
“Armand Gamache,” he said, extending his hand to the three Baumgartner siblings. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
There was a slight hesitation as they stared at him. That now-familiar look of surprise as someone they saw in their living rooms on TV appeared unexpectedly in their living room in person. In three dimensions.
Walking and talking.
They shook hands.
Anthony, Caroline, and Hugo.
Tall, fine boned. The healthy complexions of people who ate well and looked after themselves.
Except Hugo.
He seemed to take after his mother. He was short, round, ruddy. A duckling among swans. Though, really, he more resembled a toad.
At fifty-two, Anthony Baumgartner was the oldest, followed by Caroline, and finally Hugo. Although Hugo seemed much older than the others, with features that looked like they’d been worn down by the elements. A sandstone statue left out too long. His hair was iron-gray. Not the distinguished gray-at-the-temples of Anthony or the soft dyed-blond of Caroline.
Anthony held himself with ease and even a certain grace. But it was Caroline who’d moved forward first, her hand extended.
“Welcome, Chief Superintendent,” she said, using his rank though he himself had not. Her voice was warm, almost musical. “We didn’t realize my mother knew you. She never mentioned it.”
“Which was strange, for her,” said Hugo. His voice was unexpectedly deep, rich. If a trench in the earth could speak, it might sound like this man.
“We never actually met,” said Armand. “None of us knew your mother.”
“Really?” said Anthony, looking from one to the other. “Then why are you liquidators?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” said Myrna.
The siblings consulted one another, perplexed.
“To be honest,” said Anthony, “we thought we were the liquidators. Came as a surprise when Maître Mercier here called.”
“Well, the Baroness must’ve had her reasons,” said Caroline. “She always did. There must be a connection.”
“Madame Landers and I live in a village called Three Pines,” said Gamache. “I believe your mother worked there.”