Beauvoir was quieter than ever these days, as though his walls had grown and thickened. And his narrow drawbridge had been raised.
Armand Gamache knew no good ever came from putting up walls. What people mistook for safety was in fact captivity. And few things thrived in captivity.
“It’ll take time,” said Reine-Marie.
“
Gamache, with one last look at the two younger people, continued his conversation with Reine-Marie.
“Do you really think I don’t want to go to the
She considered for a moment. “I’m not sure. Let’s just say you don’t seem in a hurry to get there.”
Gamache nodded and thought for a moment. “I know everyone will be there. I suppose it might be awkward.”
“You arrested one of them for a murder he didn’t commit,” said Reine-Marie. It wasn’t an accusation. In fact, it was said quietly and gently. Trying to tease the truth of her husband’s feelings from him. Feelings he himself might not even be aware he had.
“And you consider that a social
“More than just a social
After a moment his smile faded and he nodded again, taking a deep breath.
“It was a terrible thing to do to someone,” he said.
“You didn’t do it on purpose, Armand.”
“True, but his time in prison wasn’t more pleasant because of that.” Gamache thought for a moment, looking from the gentle face of his wife out into the trees of the park. A natural setting. He so yearned for that, since his days were filled with hunting the unnatural. Killers. People who took the lives of others. Often in gruesome and dreadful ways. Armand Gamache was the head of homicide for the famed Surete du Quebec. He was very good at his job.
But he wasn’t perfect.
He’d arrested Olivier Brule for a murder he didn’t commit.
* * *
“So what happened?” Annie asked.
“Well, you know most of it, don’t you? It was in all the papers.”
“Of course I read the reports, and talked to Dad about it. But he never mentioned that someone involved might still hate him.”
“Well, as you know, it was almost a year ago,” said Jean Guy. “A man was found dead in the bistro in Three Pines. We investigated and the evidence seemed overwhelming. We found fingerprints, the murder weapon, stuff stolen from the dead man’s cabin in the woods. All of it hidden in the bistro. We arrested Olivier. He was tried and convicted.”
“Did you think he’d done it?”
Beauvoir nodded. “I was sure of it. It wasn’t just your father.”
“So how come you changed your mind? Did someone else confess?”
“No. You remember a few months ago, after that raid on the factory? When your father was recovering in Quebec City?”
Annie nodded.
“Well, he began to have his doubts, so he asked me to go back to Three Pines to investigate.”
“And you did.”
Jean Guy nodded. Of course he’d gone back. He’d do anything the Chief Inspector asked of him. Though he himself had no such doubts. He believed the right man was in prison. But he’d investigated, and discovered something that had truly shocked him.
The real murderer. And the real reason for the killing.
* * *
“But you’ve been back to Three Pines since you arrested Olivier,” said Reine-Marie. “This won’t be the first time you’ll have seen them.”
She too had visited Three Pines and become friends with Clara and Peter and the others, though she hadn’t seen them in quite a while. Not since all this had happened.
“That’s true,” said Armand. “Jean Guy and I took Olivier back after his release.”
“I can’t even imagine how that felt for him.”
Gamache was quiet. Seeing the sun gleaming off snowbanks. Through the frosted panes of glass he could see the villagers gathered in the bistro. Warm and safe. The cheery fires lit. The mugs of beer and bowls of
And Olivier, stalled. Two feet from the closed door. Staring at it.
