A Rule Against Murder (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #4)

A Rule Against Murder (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #4) Page 105

“Let’s get out of here. Me first,” he said and the two scampered out.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Reine-Marie laughed once they got outside. “I’d watch your food from now on.”

“I’ll get Inspector Beauvoir to taste it first,” he smiled. The reaction of Chef Véronique had surprised him. In the past she’d seemed in command and not particularly stressed. Tonight she seemed upset.

“Do you know, I think I’ve met her before after all,” said Reine-Marie, slipping her arm through her husband’s, feeling his reassuring strength. “Probably around here somewhere.”

“She’s the one who tends the beehives, so maybe you have seen her.”

“Still,” said Reine-Marie, straightening up after sniffing the sweet perfume of a peony, “she’s quite singular. Hard to forget.”

The garden smelled of fresh-turned earth and roses. Every now and then she caught a slight scent of herbs wafting from the kitchen garden. But the scent she longed for, and caught as she leaned into her husband, was sandalwood. It was more than his cologne, he seemed to exude it. It was how every season smelled. It was how love and stability and belonging smelled. It was the perfume of friendship and ease and peace.

“Look.” He pointed into the night sky. “It’s Babar.”

He swirled his fingers around, trying to get her to see the elephant shape in the stars.

“Are you sure? It looks more like Tintin.”

“With a trunk?”

“What’re you pointing at?”

The little voice came out of the darkness. The Gamaches squinted and then Bean appeared, carrying the book.

“Hello, Bean.” Reine-Marie bent down and hugged the child. “We were just looking at the stars, seeing shapes.”

“Oh.” The child seemed disappointed.

“What did you think we’d seen?” Gamache knelt down too.

“Nothing.”

The Gamaches paused, then Reine-Marie pointed to the book. “What’re you reading?”

“Nothing.”

“I used to read about pirates,” said Gamache. “I’d put a patch over my eye, a teddy bear on my shoulder”—Bean smiled—“and find a stick for a sword. I’d play for hours.”

The large, commanding man swept his arm back and forth in front of him, fighting off the enemy.

“Boys,” said Reine-Marie. “I was Velvet Brown, riding my horse in the Grand National race.”

She grabbed imaginary reins, tucked her head down, leaned forward and urged her steed over the very highest of fences. Gamache smiled in the darkness, then he nodded.

He’d seen that very pose before, recently.

“May I see your book?” He didn’t hold out his hand, he simply asked. After a moment the child handed it to him. It was warm where Bean had clutched it and Gamache had the impression of small indents, as though Bean’s fingers had melded with the hard cover.

“Myths Every Child Should Know,” he read, then flipped open the book. “It belonged to your mother?”

Bean nodded.

Gamache opened it and let the leaves splay. He looked at Bean.

“The story of Pegasus,” he said. “Shall I show you Pegasus in the night sky?”

Bean’s eyes widened. “He’s up there?”

“He is.” Gamache knelt again and pointed. “Do you see the four bright stars?” He put his cheek against the child’s, feeling it soft and warm, then he lifted Bean’s reluctant hand, until Bean relaxed and pointed along with Gamache. Bean nodded.

“That’s his body. And down below, those are his legs.”

“He isn’t flying,” said Bean, disappointed.

“No, he’s grazing, resting,” said Gamache. “Even the most magnificent of creatures needs a rest. Pegasus knows how to soar and chase and glide. But he also knows how to be at peace.”

The three of them stared at the stars for a few minutes, then they walked around the quiet garden and spoke of their days. Eventually Bean decided to go in and ask for a hot chocolate before bed.

The Gamaches linked arms again and strolled, then turned to walk back.

“Do you know who killed Julia Morrow?” she said as they approached the old lodge.

“Not yet,” he said quietly. “But we’re getting closer. We know who wrote the notes and we have an assortment of clues and facts.”

“Jean Guy must be very happy.”

“You have no idea.” In his mind’s eye he saw the foolscap with its columns. And then, again, the one column without clues or facts, without even theories or guesses.