A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15)(53)

“Is it possible she wasn’t?” asked Gamache.

Beauvoir considered, glancing over at Tracey, then back to his two colleagues. “Possible, I suppose, but I don’t believe it was an accident, or suicide. Do you?”

“Not for a moment,” said Lacoste.

Gamache nodded. It was murder. He knew that. What he didn’t know was whether they could prove it.

“Did you know that Agent Cloutier was Vivienne Godin’s godmother?” Beauvoir asked.

“Huh,” said Gamache. “Why didn’t she tell us that before?”

“Says she was afraid of being taken off the case. But I’m not convinced. Why keep that a secret unless there’s more there?”

Gamache then told them about Bob Cameron.

“Merde,” said Beauvoir. “He was having an affair with her?”

“Denies it,” said Gamache.

“You don’t believe him?” asked Lacoste.

“I don’t.”

“You think he might’ve killed Vivienne?” Beauvoir couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice.

“I think he and Vivienne were much more involved than he admits. And where there’re secrets—”

“There’s fire. What do you think happened?”

“I think one possible scenario is that they arranged to meet on that side road by the bridge. Where they wouldn’t be seen. If she told him then that the child was his and that she’d left Tracey to be with him—”

“Is he married?” Lacoste asked.

“Oui. With two children.”

“You think in a moment of madness he pushed her off the bridge,” she said.

“Or just pushed her away and she fell against the railing. I’ve seen him play. He’s strong. And it’s the sort of instinctive move a left tackle makes.” Gamache mimicked the pushing motion. “It wouldn’t take much for Vivienne to break through the railing and fall.”

“And he just left?” asked Lacoste.

“Once she was in the water, he couldn’t save her even if he wanted to.” Once again, and just for an instant, Gamache felt himself submerged in the bitterly cold water. Unable to breathe.

“And now he’s too afraid to admit anything,” said Beauvoir. “Still, do you think that’s what happened?”

It didn’t take Gamache long to answer that. “Non.”

“We all know who did this,” said Lacoste.

“Bon,” said Gamache, and turned to continue walking, but when he realized Beauvoir had not joined him, he stopped and returned.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” said Jean-Guy.

“Oui?”



* * *



Reine-Marie had walked around the village green and joined Olivier and Gabri outside the bistro.

“Jesus, he did hit you, didn’t he?” said Gabri, looking at the bruise on her face. “You okay?”

“Nothing Honoré hasn’t done, also by accident.” She touched her bruised cheekbone lightly. “I put frozen peas on it.”

They brought her up to speed on what had happened, and as they talked, she took another few steps away from Carl Tracey, who was sitting at a table on the terrasse. Drinking a beer. At eight in the morning.

“Does that remind you of anything?” Olivier asked.

“A clown in a sewer?” Gabri suggested.

“No, not him. Them.” Olivier gestured toward the three S?reté officers on the village green.

Reine-Marie cocked her head, staring. And then she gave a short puff of amusement and recognition.

Isabelle. Jean-Guy. Armand.

Three colleagues.

Three friends. A trinity. Sturdy. Eternal. Together.

“Three Pines,” she said.

“Three Stooges,” said Ruth as she walked by and entered the bistro.



* * *



“I know I assigned this to you, that you’re the lead investigator, but do you mind if I take over?” Before Gamache could answer, Beauvoir held up his hand. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“You have a perfect right to assume command of any investigation. May I ask why?”

“This will probably be my last case with the S?reté. With any police force. This’s the one I want to go out on.”

When Gamache didn’t answer, Beauvoir asked, “What is it?”

“Have you thought that maybe this isn’t the one you want as your final case?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re pretty sure we know who did it.”

“More than ‘pretty sure,’ I’d say. Tracey all but admits it.”

“He admits he beat Vivienne, not that he threw her off the bridge. He keeps insisting it was suicide, and we’re going to have a helluva problem proving it wasn’t at least an accident. And, as you said, even if we can prove it’s murder, it might be extremely difficult to convict the man.”

“We’ve had more difficult cases,” said Lacoste.

“True.”

“Are you reluctant to give it up? Because of Annie? I’ve seen how much you sympathize with Godin. More than usual.”

Armand smiled and nodded. “It’s true. This one’s gotten under my skin. And yes, because of Annie. I’m trying not to, but the truth is, I find myself asking how I’d feel, if … And even more since you told us Annie’s pregnant.”