A Better Man (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #15)(74)

He realized that something about her made him wary. And he knew Jean-Guy felt the same way.

While it was obvious that his love for his own daughter had created an emotional frisson about this case, it was equally obvious that Lysette Cloutier cared very deeply for Homer Godin. Perhaps too deeply.

But did that matter?

And was it even true? Could her protectiveness toward him not be the natural instincts of a close friend?

That was one of the problems with being a homicide cop. Interpreting innocent, even admirable, acts as somehow suspicious. Once that started happening, it was hard to change the perception.

“I’d like you to come with me,” he said to Cloutier. “You might be able to help calm Monsieur Godin. Talk sense into him.”

“I’ll try,” she said. “Merci.”

She seemed to think it was a peace offering, never dreaming this courteous senior officer might have other motives for asking her along.

“Is this all right with you?” Gamache asked Beauvoir.

“Can we talk?” Beauvoir jerked his head toward the window at the far end of the room, away from the others.

Gamache followed him, and despite himself he felt, if not annoyed, then perplexed, and he realized with some amusement that he’d asked Beauvoir out of consideration, not expecting he might actually disagree.

As they walked to the window, Beauvoir heard the Chief’s footsteps. Familiar yet foreign. He was used to hearing them in front of him. Leading. Not behind, following.

This was not getting any easier, he realized. He’d certainly disagreed with Gamache in the past, sometimes arguing quite forcefully. But he’d always understood that the final word would be Gamache’s. As would the responsibility.

But now it was his. He was in charge. The decisions, and responsibility, were his.

He turned and faced his mentor and father-in-law.

“Cloutier’s right. Homer Godin’s gonna try to kill Tracey. You know that. I think you’re making a mistake.”

He watched Gamache closely. And saw him nod.

“Would you rather we didn’t release Monsieur Godin?”

Jean-Guy relaxed and realized Armand Gamache would not make this difficult. “I’d like to understand your reasoning.”

Gamache considered Beauvoir for a moment. His protégé, now his boss.

He remembered the first time he’d seen the younger man. They met at the outpost where Agent Beauvoir had been assigned straight out of the academy. He’d been placed, by the station commander, in the basement evidence locker because none of the other agents liked working with the arrogant, cocky, disgruntled new guy.

Agent Beauvoir was composing his letter of resignation, in which he’d tell them, yet again, what he really thought of them, when the famed head of homicide for the S?reté showed up to investigate a murder.

The station commander had assigned this difficult young agent to help the Chief Inspector, in hopes that he’d run afoul of either Gamache or the killer, and one or the other would rid them of the problem that was Jean-Guy Beauvoir.

Gamache had stared through the bars at the caged young man. Beauvoir had stared back.

And they’d recognized each other.

From lifetimes past. From battlegrounds past.

And on the spot, to the shock of everyone except himself, Chief Inspector Gamache had hired the unruly young agent. The human refuse no one else wanted. Eventually promoting him, several years later, to be his second-in-command.

And now this would be their final investigation together. As Jean-Guy broke free and Armand let him go.

It would be, if Gamache had anything to do with it, a successful end to a courageous career.

But they weren’t over the finish line yet.

“Why would you even consider letting Monsieur Godin go,” Beauvoir was saying, “before we’ve arrested Tracey? Knowing what he planned to do. Unless—”

Beauvoir stopped. Almost in time.

“Unless?” asked Gamache, and once again Jean-Guy could feel the natural authority of the man. It radiated off him. “You think I want him to kill Tracey?”

“Non, not at all. It’s just … honestly?” said Jean-Guy. “Between us? I can understand how Homer feels. And obviously you do, too. If we couldn’t convict Tracey, if he walked free, I’d be tempted to just step aside and let him do it.”

Gamache tilted his head and stared at his son-in-law.

“Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t be tempted, too,” said Beauvoir.

“Tempted, maybe. I honestly don’t know what I’d do, Jean-Guy. But I hope to God not that.”

“So why do you want to let him go now?”

“I’m worried that holding him any longer will just make things worse. My reason for detaining him was to give him a cooling-off period. When he couldn’t do anything. But if it lasts much longer, instead of cooling off, his anger will heat up. I agree that letting him go is a risk, but so’s keeping him in jail. Besides, it’s just not right.”

Beauvoir thought about it, glancing out the window at the Bella Bella and the sandbags lining the river. At the ones still standing and the ones fallen down.

So close to tragedy. It didn’t really take much to tip the balance.

“Okay. Let him out. I’ll have an agent watch his place and follow him if he leaves.”