All the Devils Are Here(50)

Armand waited, as though expecting a reaction.

Then he covered the feet up again, put on his reading glasses, and, sitting beside the bed, read out loud stories about the bumper grape crop in Bordeaux, and the nuclear power plants coming online around the world to cut down on fossil fuels.

Then he found a wire service story from Agence France-Presse about a tortoise in Marseilles that could predict horse races. He read it out loud, just to annoy Stephen.

But he only got a few lines in before stopping. Taking off his glasses, he reached out and held his godfather’s cold hand, warming it in both of his.

Then Armand closed his eyes and whispered, “Hail Mary, full of Grace. Hail Mary, full of Grace.”

Over and over. He knew the rest of the prayer, but just kept repeating that first line.

“Hail Mary, full of Grace.”

And then, dropping his head to Stephen’s hand, he whispered, over and over, “Help me. God, help me.”

Reine-Marie quietly entered the hospital room and stood in the shadows, watching.

Armand’s head was resting on Stephen’s hand. His voice muffled by the bedding.

But she knew what he was doing.

Hush, hush, she thought. Whisper who dares. Armand Gamache is saying his prayers.





CHAPTER 17




It was just after three o’clock when Irena Fontaine and her second-in-command entered Daniel and Roslyn’s apartment.

They were met at the door by a man in his early thirties. Bearded, tall, substantial. That much was obvious. But Fontaine was skilled at seeing what others might miss.

His eyes, while serious, were thoughtful, warm even. Here was a man it would be easy to like, she thought. And trust.

Which meant she immediately distrusted this Daniel Gamache, despite the fact he was Chief Inspector Gamache’s son.

But then, Commander Fontaine was far from sure she trusted the father.

When she entered the living room, she saw the rest of the family, on their feet and turned to her. The large room felt even bigger thanks to the three floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the metal roofs, the garrets, the chimney pots.

It was a timeless Paris view.

Before starting the interview, her number two took down the particulars of everyone in the room.

Reine-Marie Gamache was a senior librarian and archivist. Retired.

Annie was an avocate. A trial lawyer who’d trained in Québec but qualified for the French bar and was on maternity leave.

Roslyn worked in marketing for a design label, and Daniel was a banker.

He looks, thought Fontaine, a lot like his father. If you removed the beard, the resemblance would be remarkable. And she wondered if that was why the son had grown the beard. So that he needn’t see his father in the mirror, examining him at the beginning and end of every day.

When they were asked for their addresses, Daniel shifted in his seat, and he and Roslyn exchanged glances.

“There’s something we need to tell you,” he said, then turned to the rest of them. “This won’t be our home much longer. We’re moving.”

“Moving?” asked Reine-Marie. “Home?”

There was no mistaking the hope in her voice and the gleam in her eyes.

“This is home, Mama,” he said. “No, we’re putting in an offer on a place in the Sixth Arrondissement.”

“Three bedrooms,” said Roslyn. “The girls will each have their own. And it’s close to their school in Saint-Germain-des-Prés.”

“But they go to school around the corner here,” said Annie.

“Not next semester,” said Roslyn. “They’ve been accepted into the Lycée Stanislas.”

Everyone’s eyes opened wider, including the investigators’.

The little boys and girls, in their dark blue and crisp white uniforms, were as much a part of Paris lore as Madeline and her adventures. The boys and girls could be seen solemnly holding hands as they crossed the boulevards of the Sixth Arrondissement, and played in the jardin du Luxembourg.

It was, without a doubt, the very best private school in Paris. Probably France. And one of the most expensive.

“How … ?” Reine-Marie began, then stopped herself.

“Did we get them in?” asked Daniel, beaming.

“Yes.”

Though it was clear she’d actually meant to ask another question.

How were they going to pay for it? And a new apartment?

But some things were best not asked. Not in front of a homicide investigator.

“Congratulations,” said Armand. “It’s a great school. The girls will love it.”

But Annie was glaring at her brother. Not sharing her parents’ enthusiasm, however forced it might have been.

“Terrific, my ass,” said Annie, unable to hold it in. “We decided to live two streets over to be close to you, and now you leave?”

“We’re not going far,” said Daniel.

“Do you rent here?” asked Fontaine.

“Yes. Shouldn’t be a problem subletting,” said Daniel. He turned to his sister. “Maybe you could take it?”

“Maybe you could—” began Annie.

“Maybe we can talk about this later,” their mother interrupted.

But if she was hoping to change the subject, it was too late.