All the Devils Are Here(58)

In fact, what she said next surprised him.

“Angels? Are you so sure? Is it possible that Hell is empty, and all the devils”—she brought her index finger down again on the grainy photograph, this time on top of Stephen’s face—“are here?”

Gamache leaned back, slowly, almost casually, and continued to regard her. When he spoke, his voice was calm, reasonable. Thoughtful.

“Dussault told you about Stephen’s favorite saying?”

“He did.”

“Did he also tell you that he called Stephen an avenging angel?”

“Non.”

“But I think now he was wrong, and you’re right,” said Gamache, to everyone’s surprise. “Stephen’s actions during the war were a prelude to what he did all his life. He tracked down the devils among us. He’s not an avenging angel. He’s an exorcist. I’m going to join the others in the park, unless there’s another member of my family you’d like to attack.”

He got up.

“No, I think that does it,” said Fontaine.

They all rose. Gamache gave a curt nod and left.

Beauvoir waited until the door closed, then turned to Fontaine. “Give me the dossier. I’ll pass it along to him.”

“I don’t have it on me. I only brought the photograph. But we can get it to you.”

“Do. And by the way, just so you know, you’re wrong. About Stephen, for sure. But you’ve made another mistake.”

They’d walked to the door, and now he paused. “Monsieur Gamache might look old to you. Did you call him a hundred? Over a hundred?”

“It was a joke.”

Beauvoir nodded. And smiled. Then leaned closer to her. “Just a word of warning. You don’t want to fuck with him.”

“Oh, really? And what’s he going to do?”

“Not him. Me.”





CHAPTER 19




Armand stood in the bright sunshine of the small park. He knew he should read his emails, make some phone calls.

But he needed this more. This moment watching his grandchildren play. Watching his own children be parents. Turning his back on life as it was, he watched life as it should be.

Walking over to Daniel, who was pushing Zora on a swing, he said, “Can we grab a beer later? Just us.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company. Because it would be nice to catch up. Hear more about your new job, your new home.”

“Continue the interrogation?”

Armand managed not to be drawn in. “I just want to catch up. We don’t get to do that often.”

Ever.

“I’m a little busy right now,” said Daniel. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Daniel—”

“See you later, Dad.”

He gave Zora another push, turning his back on his father.

Across the park, Reine-Marie was watching, and caught Armand’s eye.

“You okay?” Reine-Marie asked when he joined her. “That looked tense.”

“He’s angry about the interview. About my questioning him.”

“He’ll settle down. Realize you did it to help him.”

“I don’t think he will. I tried to talk to him, but …” He raised his hands.

She saw in that gesture all the pain and futility of the last twenty-five years. The frustration and sadness of trying to connect with a child who’d one day vanished. His sweet boy. Gone. Replaced by a grim, angry child.

And they didn’t know why.

She looked at her husband and thought, not for the first time, that here was a man who spent his life working out what had happened to others, but who couldn’t figure out what had happened to his own child.

“I’ve invited the Dussaults for dinner tonight,” she said.

“I’m sorry? You what?”

“Claude and Monique are coming for dinner.”

He stared at her. Of course, she couldn’t have known the awkwardness of the conversation at the 36 just an hour or so earlier. But she did know that the cologne they’d smelled in Stephen’s apartment, while standing over the body, was the same as Claude Dussault wore. That there was a suspicion that the Prefect was somehow involved.

“Why?”

“I think I’ve found the cologne,” she said. “The one we smelled. But I want to be sure. I thought if we had them over …”

“We could just ask him? Claude, were you in the apartment with us? Did you kill Alexander Plessner? Cheese?”

She laughed. “No. Of course not. But it might come up.”

“Cologne?”

“He doesn’t know we smelled it in the apartment, does he?”

“No.”

“Then there’s no harm in asking.”

“There’s a great deal of harm,” said Armand, turning to her. “Reine-Marie, please. Promise me you won’t ask him. Please. These are dangerous times. He might be a friend, but if he isn’t, if he feels threatened, cornered—”

“So you do suspect him.”

“I’m afraid at this stage I suspect everyone. Except our own family. Please, promise me you won’t ask him about his cologne.”

“I promise. Did I make a mistake in inviting them over? I can cancel.”