A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15)(47)

“I am.”

Armand looked at her, closely, to make sure she was telling the truth. Then he turned his attention to the others.

Jean-Guy had stopped trembling.

Homer had not.

As soon as they’d returned to the house, they’d called the S?reté divers and a Scene of Crime squad from homicide. But with the state of emergency across the province, they were told it could take some hours. Not before morning, for sure.

After letting Isabelle Lacoste and Agent Cloutier know what had happened and asking them to come down, they’d split up.

Jean-Guy had grabbed a shower first, while Armand helped Homer to strip off his wet clothing and get into his own shower. He stayed with the man, who’d sunk into silence, until the shower was over and Homer was in warm, dry clothes.

Armand stayed with him in the kitchen until Jean-Guy returned.

While he knew it wasn’t Homer’s fault, and it would almost certainly never happen again, he was damned if he’d leave Reine-Marie alone with Homer. Mad with grief, Vivienne’s father was capable of almost anything.

Certainly, Armand knew, capable of murder. Though that was aimed at only one person.

After his own shower, Armand returned to the kitchen and caught Jean-Guy’s eye. Both men turned to Reine-Marie.

“What?” she asked.

“Jean-Guy has something that might make you feel better,” said Armand quietly.

“Can you come with me?” Jean-Guy stood up.

After a brief, baffled, glance at Armand, Reine-Marie followed her son-in-law out of the kitchen.

Fred had put his large head on Homer’s slippered feet, and Henri did the same with Armand. Little Gracie was curled up on a blanket close to the fire.

The only sound was the slight rattle of the old windows as the night tried to get in. Not, perhaps, realizing it was already dark in there.

A few minutes later, Reine-Marie and Jean-Guy returned.

She was flushed, and her eyes were moist. And when she met Armand’s, his, too, began to burn. She brought her hands to her mouth, and he embraced her.

“I just spoke to Annie. A baby,” she whispered, words meant only for Armand.

Homer did not need to know that they were living his dream, while he lived their nightmare.

Excusing himself now, Armand went into his study and, picking up his phone, tapped in a familiar number.

“I’m sorry,” he heard the polite young receptionist say, “but Chief Superintendent Toussaint can’t take your call right now.”

“Tell her it’s Armand Gamache.”

There was a pause. “She knows.”

Now it was his turn to pause. “Merci.”

Then he called the senior RCMP commissioner who’d been in the meeting the day before.

“Armand, what is it?” He sounded weary.

“I wanted an update on the flooding.”

“Did you call Toussaint?”

“I tried.”

Again there was a pause. Gamache could feel the embarrassment down the line.

“It’s a hectic time,” the officer said.

“Oui. Can you tell me what’s happening?”

“The dynamiting on the St. Lawrence worked, but it looks like a temporary reprieve. The thaw’s moving north.”

“The dams?”

“Holding. Barely. The pressure’s building. And they still can’t decide whether or not to open the floodgates.”

“Go on.” Gamache, who knew the man well, could hear the hesitation.

“I’ve consulted with the armed forces engineer and Hydro-Québec. We’re not waiting for approval. Hydro’s going to open the gates.”

Gamache took a deep breath. “You know that what you’re doing could be considered insubordination.”

“You think? Well, you’re the expert, I guess,” the Mountie said with a laugh. He sounded drained. “Once the floodgates are open, we’ll pull the machinery from all but the most vulnerable dams and move it south. The corps of engineers will then begin digging trenches along rivers that’re threatening communities. More insubordination. I don’t think they’re going to let us play together anymore, Armand. You’re a bad influence.”

Gamache gave a small sound of amusement. It was all he could muster.

“Armand?”

“Oui?”

“Be careful of Toussaint.”

“She’s doing well,” Gamache said. “These are difficult decisions. She’ll grow into the job.”

“But what job? She has political aspirations.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Except she’s using her position in the S?reté not as a responsibility but as a tool, a springboard. Surely that was obvious in the meeting. She needs to distance herself from you. Distinguish herself from you.”

“Your point being?”

“With this flood, with our decision to follow your suggestion and not waiting for her approval, she’ll be gunning for you.”

“Not literally, I hope.”

But there was silence down the line. Both remembering when that was exactly what senior officers had done to each other, literally. In the time “before.”

“Non. But she’s no friend of yours. You have the support and loyalty of the rank and file, Armand. She doesn’t.”