A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #12)(115)

He wanted to know who Amelia Choquet really was.

And he wanted to know who killed Serge Leduc, because in the early dusk it was slowly dawning on Beauvoir that Monsieur Gamache might know.

But Jean-Guy Beauvoir sat there, mute. Staring at the familiar face, the familiar man. Who was becoming a stranger.

“I want you to let me in.”

Jean-Guy’s eyes left Gamache’s, and he slowly turned his head to the desk and the closed computer.

“Why does Paul Gélinas suspect that I killed Serge Leduc?” asked Gamache.

“I think it started with the fingerprints.”

Gamache nodded. “And how did my prints get on the murder weapon?”

Beauvoir sat there, a lump forming in his stomach.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper. “But they’re only partials. They’re obviously not your prints.”

“Oh, they’re mine.”

And now there was complete silence. Except for the thrumming in Beauvoir’s ears, as the blood abandoned his extremities and ran to his core. Retreating. Running away. And leaving him light-headed.

“What’re you telling me?”

“You and I both know that partials aren’t admissible,” said Gamache. “We tell people we don’t take them seriously. But the fact is we do. And we should. How often have they led us to the murderer?”

“Often,” admitted Jean-Guy.

“And they do this time too.”

“You’re not—”

“Confessing? Non. I have never touched that gun. I didn’t even know he had it, and would never have tolerated it had I known.”

“Brébeuf’s partials are on the gun. Are you saying it was him? But he’d have wiped the gun. As would you. Amelia Choquet? Her prints were on the revolver, and the gun case, and it was her map. Is she the one who killed him?”

Into the silence he placed another question.

“Who is she?” Jean-Guy asked.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Who is she?” Beauvoir asked again, more firmly this time. “There’s a personal connection, isn’t there? That’s why you reversed the earlier decision and admitted her to the academy. Paul Gélinas was right.”

“Yes, he was. But I need to speak to Madame Gamache first.”

“Is she—”

“I won’t tell you any more, Jean-Guy. And the only reason I’ve gone this far is because I trust you.”

“But not enough to tell me the truth.”

“I have told you the truth. I just can’t tell you more right now. You need to trust me.” Gamache got up, and Jean-Guy rose with him. They walked to the door.

“Do you know who killed the Duke?” asked Beauvoir.

“I think I do, but I have no proof.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t. But I will tell you that the key is in the fingerprints on the revolver.”

Beauvoir stopped at the door, his foot against it so that Gamache couldn’t open it. “Deputy Commissioner Gélinas is planning to arrest you for murder, isn’t he?”

“I think so.”

“But you don’t seem worried.”

“Just because I’m not screaming up and down the hallways doesn’t mean I’m not worried. But I’m not panicked. He has his plans and I have mine.”

“You must regret bringing him in,” said Jean-Guy. “Why did you? You went behind Isabelle’s back to do it. You’d never have tolerated that when you were chief inspector, and yet you did it to her.”

Now Gamache did look tired. He met Beauvoir’s gaze. At first Jean-Guy thought Monsieur Gamache was trying to make up his mind whether to confide in him, but then it became something else.

Monsieur Gamache was holding on to Jean-Guy’s eyes like a mariner clings on to a bit of flotsam in a gale.

He was a man overboard.

“It seemed too good an opportunity to pass up,” said Gamache. “The Deputy Commissioner of the RCMP actually visiting Montréal. I had to ask.”

“But you could’ve gone through Lacoste.”

“Yes, but I doubt he’d have come down for her. He doesn’t know her.”

“He doesn’t know you, if he suspects you of murder.”

“You suspect me too, don’t you?”

“I do not,” snapped Beauvoir, though they both knew that was a deception, if not a lie. “Is Gélinas going down to Three Pines with you again tonight?”

“He is. I invited him down again.”

“Why?” asked Beauvoir.

“So he can keep an eye on me,” said Gamache, then smiled. “And I can keep an eye on him.”

“Do you want me to come down with you? I can stay over.”

“No, you need to be with Annie. I spoke with her this afternoon. She sounds happy.”

Armand Gamache offered his hand to the younger man in a gesture that was oddly formal.

Jean-Guy took it.

“Don’t believe everything you think,” said Gamache, before releasing the hand and opening the door. “Pema Ch?dr?n. A Buddhist nun.”

“Of course,” said Beauvoir and gave a heavy sigh as the door closed behind him. He turned to go, only to come face-to-face with Chantal Marcoux, who was standing by her desk in a long cloth coat. She was just putting a knitted hat on her head.