Page 125
“Would you rather we didn’t release Monsieur Godin?”
Jean-Guy relaxed and realized Armand Gamache would not make this difficult. “I’d like to understand your reasoning.”
Gamache considered Beauvoir for a moment. His protégé, now his boss.
He remembered the first time he’d seen the younger man. They met at the outpost where Agent Beauvoir had been assigned straight out of the academy. He’d been placed, by the station commander, in the basement evidence locker because none of the other agents liked working with the arrogant, cocky, disgruntled new guy.
Agent Beauvoir was composing his letter of resignation, in which he’d tell them, yet again, what he really thought of them, when the famed head of homicide for the Sûreté showed up to investigate a murder.
The station commander had assigned this difficult young agent to help the Chief Inspector, in hopes that he’d run afoul of either Gamache or the killer, and one or the other would rid them of the problem that was Jean-Guy Beauvoir.
Gamache had stared through the bars at the caged young man. Beauvoir had stared back.
And they’d recognized each other.
From lifetimes past. From battlegrounds past.
And on the spot, to the shock of everyone except himself, Chief Inspector Gamache had hired the unruly young agent. The human refuse no one else wanted. Eventually promoting him, several years later, to be his second-in-command.
And now this would be their final investigation together. As Jean-Guy broke free and Armand let him go.
It would be, if Gamache had anything to do with it, a successful end to a courageous career.
But they weren’t over the finish line yet.
“Why would you even consider letting Monsieur Godin go,” Beauvoir was saying, “before we’ve arrested Tracey? Knowing what he planned to do. Unless—”
Beauvoir stopped. Almost in time.
“Unless?” asked Gamache, and once again Jean-Guy could feel the natural authority of the man. It radiated off him. “You think I want him to kill Tracey?”
“Non, not at all. It’s just … honestly?” said Jean-Guy. “Between us? I can understand how Homer feels. And obviously you do, too. If we couldn’t convict Tracey, if he walked free, I’d be tempted to just step aside and let him do it.”
Gamache tilted his head and stared at his son-in-law.
“Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t be tempted, too,” said Beauvoir.
“Tempted, maybe. I honestly don’t know what I’d do, Jean-Guy. But I hope to God not that.”
“So why do you want to let him go now?”
“I’m worried that holding him any longer will just make things worse. My reason for detaining him was to give him a cooling-off period. When he couldn’t do anything. But if it lasts much longer, instead of cooling off, his anger will heat up. I agree that letting him go is a risk, but so’s keeping him in jail. Besides, it’s just not right.”
Beauvoir thought about it, glancing out the window at the Bella Bella and the sandbags lining the river. At the ones still standing and the ones fallen down.
So close to tragedy. It didn’t really take much to tip the balance.
“Okay. Let him out. I’ll have an agent watch his place and follow him if he leaves.”
“You won’t have to. I was thinking of inviting Monsieur Godin to stay with us. His things are already here. And that way I can keep an eye on him. Besides, he shouldn’t be alone.”
“Is that smart?”
“Probably not,” said Gamache with a small laugh. “Is it my first choice? Non. But sometimes you have to do something stupid.”
Beauvoir laughed. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. Sounds more like something I’d say.”
“Guess you’re rubbing off on me, patron.” Gamache smiled, then it faded. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
