A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #12)(85)

Deputy Commissioner Gélinas turned away from Gamache and spoke to the others.

“Is it possible he killed Serge Leduc,” he held up his hand to stop Beauvoir’s protest, “to protect the students? He came to suspect abuse. Not simply inappropriate punishments of cadets, but something systematic and targeted and shattering. The emotional, psychological, physical and perhaps sexual abuse of certain cadets. He had no proof. He invited those students he suspected were most at risk to join his informal gatherings, in the hopes they’d grow to trust him. He invited them to research the map, as a way of bonding with them. But they kept running back to Leduc. To their abuser. There was only one way to save them. And others.”

Beauvoir and Lacoste sat silent. Imagining the scenario.

“Could you see Monsieur Gamache murdering, to save young lives?”

It was clear both Lacoste and Beauvoir wanted to deny it. To defend Gamache. But it was also clear that they could, in fact, see it. If Armand Gamache was ever to commit murder, if would be to save others.

“He’s also the only person here who didn’t have to kill him,” said Charpentier, calmly, and all eyes swung to him.

“Explain,” said Gélinas.

“He’s the Commander. He alone could get rid of Leduc by just firing him.”

Beauvoir nodded approval and turned to the RCMP officer. Waiting for his reply.

“And pass the problem on to someone else?” asked Gélinas. “The Commander himself has admitted he would not do that.”

“You know he didn’t do it,” said Beauvoir. “You’re just playing into the murderer’s hands. Chasing the whale.”

“All that most maddens and torments,” said Gélinas, glaring at Gamache. “All truth with malice in it, all evil were visibly personified, and made practically assailable—”

“—in Moby Dick,” said Charpentier, finishing the quote. “You got it mostly right. I have the students read it as an insight into obsession. Into what can drive a man mad. I see you know it too.”

“—but not a whale,” said Gélinas, his eyes never leaving Gamache. “A man. For you, sir, it was personified by Serge Leduc. And like Ahab, you had to stop him.”

Gamache sat immobile. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

In the face of his silence, Gélinas continued. “The pick of the litter. You used that phrase just now. Your wife had the pick of the litter and she chose the runt. You did the same thing. You picked the runts and invited them to your soirées. Invited them into your home. Like she did with Gracie. You want to save them. Sometimes that means removing them from danger. And sometimes it means removing the danger.”

Armand Gamache took a deep breath and looked at the photograph of a man he’d grown to despise. A man now dead. Then he looked up at Gélinas.

“I’m not Ahab. And Leduc was not my whale. Yes, I know a lot about murder. Enough not to commit it.” He tapped his glasses a couple of times on his hand, considering Paul Gélinas. “I just finished telling the cadets that it’s in the murderer’s best interest to create chaos. To make us turn on each other. Suspect each other even.”

“Maybe, but last night when you, Professor Charpentier, were asked where you’d start to look for the killer, do you remember what you said?”

Charpentier hesitated, perspiration now pouring off him. He glanced at Gamache, who gave the slightest of nods.

“I said Matthew 10:36.”

“Oui.” Gélinas turned to Gamache. “You know the reference.”

“I taught it to all the new S?reté agents,” said Gamache. “I’ve asked Michel Brébeuf to use it as the core of his course.”

“And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household,” said Gélinas. “Powerful advice. You were right, professor. That’s where I’d start too, to look for the killer. In our own household.”

“He didn’t do it,” said Lacoste. “You know that. Why are you even pursuing it?”

“Because you won’t.”

And for a moment he looked like a man with a whale in his sights.





CHAPTER 27

“Yup, that’s what it is,” said the young woman as she wiped her hand on her white apron. “An orienteering map. But it’s old, eh? Where’d you get it?”

She looked from the slender, simply dressed Chinese Girl to the Goth Girl. An odd couple if there ever was one.

“It was found in a wall when they were doing renovations,” said Amelia. “What can you tell us about it?”

The girl looked surprised. “Nothing, except what I’ve already said. I’ve seen maps sorta like this, in history books on orienteering, but never actually seen one in person. It’s sorta cool, isn’t it?”

Amelia wondered if she knew what “cool” meant.

The girl kept looking over her shoulder at the long line of customers waiting for coffee and doughnuts. And at her frantic supervisor, who was shooting her vile looks.

I’m on break, she mouthed to her boss, then turned her back on the pimply young man, her eyes drawn to the map again. There was something compelling about it. Perhaps the simplicity. Perhaps the unbridled joy. Perhaps the cow.