A Great Reckoning (23 page)

He looked at Gamache's face in profile as he drove.

“If they've threatened and killed before, why stop at you?”

“They were weakened. Most of the agents they could count on for support and protection had been rooted out of the Sûreté. No, I was never in danger. Murdering me would bring the full weight of scrutiny crashing down on them.”

“So you showed Leduc what you had,” said Gélinas, tapping the file. “To spook him. Did it work?”

“Perhaps better than I thought,” said Gamache.

“You think the accomplice killed Leduc? Because you were getting close?”

“It's possible. Whoever the accomplice is, he must've worried that Leduc, when cornered, would try to cut a deal.”

“And so he shut him up. Then who is he? It would have to be someone in the academy now. One of the professors? Assuming for a moment it's not you—”

“For a moment?”

“There is someone who fits. Michel Brébeuf.”

Gamache stared straight ahead. Then gave a curt nod.

Gélinas watched Gamache, the full implication dawning on him.

“You brought Brébeuf back. You put the two together, in the academy. Knowing that if Leduc was the Duke, Brébeuf was the king. You knew all this—”

“I suspected.”

“—and you did it anyway. What were you thinking, man? That's lunacy.”

“It could prove to be.”

“What more proof do you need?” Gélinas all but shouted, then hauled himself back. “There's been a murder in the Sûreté Academy. Because you put two criminals together and gave them the run of the place—”

“That's not true.”

“Near enough. You're just lucky one of the students wasn't hurt or killed.”

They'd turned in to the parking lot, but when Gamache switched off the car Gélinas didn't move.

“Why did you leave the academy, Commander Gamache?”

“Last night? I didn't. I normally would have, but I stayed because I had late meetings.”

“No, today. One of your professors is murdered and you suspect another professor. Instead of staying and making sure everyone is safe, you jump ship.”

“You think I abandoned them?”

“I think it's strange in the extreme that a man who is responsible for hundreds of young lives would leave them locked in a building with a killer while he goes home and enjoys sandwiches in his kitchen. What's going on?”

 

CHAPTER 18

The body of Serge Leduc was removed, like a stain, from the Sûreté Academy. He'd arrived headstrong and left feet first.

On Commander Gamache's order, the cadets and professors lined the long, long marble hallway and stood at attention as the body was wheeled out. They were quiet, respectful. And not a single tear was shed.

“
True to his profit and his pride
,” said Isabelle Lacoste, standing beside Gamache. “
He made them weep before he died
.”

“Jonathan Swift, again,” said Gamache.

“A poem on the death of a duke,” said Isabelle quietly as they watched Leduc's final progress down the hallway. “You quoted it earlier today. I looked it up.
Come hither, all ye empty things,/Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings;/Who float upon the tide of state,/Come hither, and behold your fate.”

They saluted as the body was wheeled past.

“
Let pride be taught by this rebuke
,” said Gamache quietly. “
How very mean a thing's a Duke.”

“
We need to talk,” said Lacoste.

“
Oui
.”

Professor Leduc's body left the building, a dark spot in the bright sunshine that streamed in.

“But I have one more duty,” said Gamache.

Down the long hallway he walked, toward the open door through which Leduc's body had exited and a fresh breeze entered. The students saluted the Commander. He knew better than to read any respect into the action. After all, they'd just saluted a dead man.

But he noticed that some looked at him with newfound deference. And Gamache knew why. He'd heard the rumors. They thought he was responsible for the body. There was a new tyrant in town.

Once outside, Gamache stood behind the morgue vehicle, watching them load the body.

“Making sure he really goes, Armand?”

Gamache turned to see Michel Brébeuf.

“I know it's a shock, but it must also be a bit of a relief,” said Brébeuf.

“If you had anything to do with this, Michel, I'll find out. You know I will.”

Brébeuf smiled. “And what will you do? Let me go again? Whoever did this cleaned up a mess, and you know it. Besides, if I had something to do with it, you were my accomplice. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. This time you were the one who opened the gate. You knew who I was, and you let me in.”

“Is that a confession?”

Brébeuf laughed and the morgue attendants looked over. It wasn't often that hilarity accompanied a corpse.

“A reminder, that's all. He was on his way out anyway, wasn't he?” Brébeuf turned and contemplated the body bag. “He held no real power anymore, though he didn't realize it. Strutting around like he was still in charge. I've known officers like that. Petty, officious, vicious. And not very bright. He was already gone. He just hadn't left. No, that's a waste of a good bullet.”

Gamache turned and walked back to the large open doors of the academy.

“Be careful, Armand.”

Gamache stopped and turned. Something in the voice had drawn his attention. It wasn't anger, it wasn't hatred. It was the gentleness with which those words were uttered that stopped him. So much more arresting than rage.

Michel Brébeuf stood there, the vast prairie behind him.

“You did me a good turn a few years ago—”

“Did I?”

“You let me resign. Didn't have me sent to prison, though on your evidence alone I would have been.”

“Are you telling me you haven't been in prison all this time?” asked Armand, and saw Brébeuf blink. “If I did you a favor, Michel, it wasn't years ago, it was months ago. Don't stand here now and tell me I made a terrible mistake. Or if I did, at least admit it.”

“I did not kill Serge Leduc.”

The two men squared off, while the body was driven away.

Then Gamache turned and walked back through the doorway. Followed, a few paces behind, by his former best friend.

*   *   *

The cadets had moved from the bistro, which was getting too crowded to talk, over to the B and B. It was past four in the afternoon of a day that never seemed to end.

The sun was getting low on the horizon and a fire had been laid in the grate. Amelia lit it while Huifen made tea and Nathaniel found biscuits and cake in Gabri's kitchen. Something, he was pretty sure, that would be in short supply in the home of the crazy old woman who was putting him up.

The thought of what might be in that home made his skin crawl.

The cadets sat around the fireplace sipping tea, eating cake, and discussing the brutal murder of a man they all knew. Better than they cared to admit.

It seemed so far removed from this peaceful place that Nathaniel had to remind himself that what he'd discovered at the academy that morning wasn't a dream. This—he looked around at the comfortable faded furniture, the cheerful fire in the grate, the chocolate cake and biscuits—was the dream.

That other thing was real life.

The village had lulled him, however briefly, into forgetting that terrible things happened. He wondered if it was a gift, to forget however briefly, or a curse.

“Gamache brought us here to investigate the map,” said Huifen, laying hers on the table. Nathaniel and Jacques did the same with theirs.

Then they looked at Amelia.

“I don't have mine,” she said.

“Where is it? We were told to bring them,” said Huifen.

“It's missing.”

They stared at her.

“Missing?” asked Jacques. “Or found in the Duke's drawer?”

“Look, I don't know. I haven't thought about the map since we were here before. I put it away and now it's gone.”

She looked at them defiantly.

“I believe you,” said Nathaniel.

“You believe her?” demanded Jacques. “Why?”

“Why not?” he said. “We have no evidence either way. Might as well believe her.”

“Some investigator you're going to make,” said Jacques.

“He's a freshman,” Huifen reminded him. “He'll learn.”

“What?” asked Amelia. “What'll he learn? To judge without facts? To condemn without evidence? To be cynical and suspicious? Like you?”

“Not cynical, realistic,” said Huifen. “The world's a dangerous place. We'll soon be up against organized crime. Drug dealers. Murderers. This isn't a tea party.”

Despite the fact that it actually appeared to be.

“We have to assume the worst,” said Jacques. “Every person, every situation, is a potential threat. Our lives depend on our ability to take charge.”

“And how do you do that?” Amelia asked.

“Leduc told us,” said Jacques. “Said it's not something we'd ever learn in a classroom or from a book. You find one person in a crowd and make an example of him. Everyone else falls into line.”

“And by ‘example,'” said Amelia, “you mean beat the shit out of him.”

“If we have to, yes.”

She looked at Jacques with disgust, then turned to Nathaniel.

“Thank you. And just so you know, I really didn't give my map to the Duke. I have no idea if the one they found was mine, or how it got there.”

“Good enough,” he said happily.

And looking at that open, trusting face, even Amelia had a sinking feeling that Nathaniel would not survive long in the force. At least, this Nathaniel wouldn't.

“Okay,” said Huifen. “Let's assume you're telling the truth. That means someone took your map and gave it to the Duke. Why would they do that?”

“It could mean something else,” said Nathaniel.

“What?” asked Jacques, exasperated with the freshman.

“Maybe someone discovered their own map was missing and stole Amelia's to replace it.”

“By ‘someone,' you mean one of us,” said Huifen.

“Well, yes,” said Nathaniel. “Who else could I mean? Or maybe the Duke wanted to see the map, and instead of giving him their own, they stole Amelia's.”

“Again,” said Huifen, “you mean one of us.”

“I mean either you or Jacques, yes. I know it wasn't me. You had maps and were the closest to him, after all.”

“Were we?” asked Jacques, staring hard at the younger man.

Amelia amended her opinion of Nathaniel. It was both comforting and disconcerting to see how cunning he actually was. And how clearly he saw things.

“I'm not accusing you,” Nathaniel hurried on. “I'm just saying there're lots of ways to look at this.”

“Okay, then, let's look at what we do know,” said Huifen. “The facts. A copy of the map was found in the Duke's drawer. Why?”

Though the real question still seemed to be who.

Their eyes drifted from the three maps on the table to Amelia.

 

CHAPTER 19

The photos of the crime scene were spread out on the long boardroom table in front of the investigators. Chief Inspector Lacoste was bringing Gamache and Gélinas up to speed.

“Most of the professors have been interviewed, along with the students.”

“Did that produce anything?” asked Deputy Commissioner Gélinas.

“Not much so far. Leduc was very private, almost to the point of compulsion. Yesterday, from what we gather, was the same as every other day. Serge Leduc taught his classes, worked in his office without interruption in the afternoon, then dined last night at the professor's table. I believe you were there.”

Gamache nodded.

“Professor Godbut is here, Chief Inspector,” said an agent, popping her head in.

“Good.” She turned to Gamache. “I thought you'd like to be here when we spoke with him.”

“
Merci
,” said Gamache, with just a hint of sarcasm.

“Show him in, please,” said Chief Inspector Lacoste.

A large man entered. He might have had muscle tone once, but now his middle jiggled and shifted as he walked.

“Marcel Godbut,” he introduced himself, then took the chair offered. “This is terrible. I can't quite believe it.”

“You've been at the academy for five and a half years, it says in your record,” said Chief Inspector Lacoste.

“
Oui
.” He looked at Lacoste the way an uncle looked at a pretty young niece. “Before that I was a senior investigator in the Abitibi detachment.”

“Of the Sûreté,” said Deputy Commissioner Gélinas.

“Of course,” said Godbut, regarding the RCMP officer with slight distaste.

“And you teach forensics?” said Gélinas, consulting his notes. “But not the DNA kind. You teach the cadets how to investigate records, finances. To look for fraud, racketeering. A paper trail, not a blood trail.”

“
Oui
. Not very sexy, but effective. Not all of us get to chase murderers.”

“Important work,” agreed Gamache, but he was watching Godbut through narrowed eyes.

This was a man who, until Gamache arrived, had patrolled the hallways sniffing out cadets who were a little late for class, whose uniforms were slightly askew, whose hair a little long.

And he made them pay.

He humiliated and belittled students. While never actually beating them, he made them beat themselves up, giving them exercises in the quad, in their underwear, in winter. He made them run stairs and do near impossible numbers of push-ups and sit-ups. And when they failed, he doubled the numbers.

Marcel Godbut took them to the very edge of breakdown. Then brought them back.