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“The dates Fleming gave the warden for when he was in the same community as Clotilde Arsenault years ago could be lies. Probably were. Otherwise, why would he volunteer that information? He wanted to shift the focus to Fiona. And away from Sam.”
She glanced over to where Gabri was clearing the siblings’ plates. And cutlery.
“If so, then the fact Godin’s test was negative is meaningless,” she whispered. “It would be if he was Sam’s father, not Fiona’s.”
Armand smiled, unjustly proud of this young woman. Amelia.
Gabri arrived a few minutes later to clear away their untouched plates. He bent down to wipe the table and placed two sealed baggies, wrapped in linen napkins, by Gamache’s hand.
“Merci, patron,” said Armand.
“I wish we’d never found that damned room,” said Gabri, straightening up. “Ever since we opened that wall, things haven’t been the same.”
Armand agreed. But he also knew they were always going to find that damned room, exactly when and how they did. This chain of events had begun years earlier and was inexorable.
If not fated, then preordained by some rough beast.
Once Gabri left, Gamache turned to Amelia.
“Now, Agent Choquet, you’re not getting out of here without explaining yourself. You ignored my orders.” His voice was clipped, and while still at a normal level, there was a force to it that made other diners glance over.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” Apparently realizing others were paying attention, he lowered his voice, though it still carried. “You were ordered to leave.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
She was confused. They’d already been over this. She could see he was angry, his hand was trembling, his agitation so great it kept striking the table. But still, it wasn’t like him to go back over past grievances.
“That’s not good enough. You’re an agent with the Sûreté. Your mistakes can cost lives.”
He made an effort to stop the shaking, balling his hand into a fist. But the gesture only made the shaking more obvious. He took a deep breath, but as soon as he released it, the trembling became even worse.
That was not a good sign.
“Let me be clear, Agent Choquet.” His voice had risen again. “You will leave here immediately. You will stay away until recalled.” He glared at her. “Is that clear?”
“Look,” she heard herself saying. “If you’d been clear in the first place, I would’ve stayed away. This’s your fault, not mine.”
She clicked her tongue post angrily against her teeth, knowing it annoyed him. Annoyed everyone within listening distance.
He got up. “That’s enough. Leave. We’ll discuss this later.”
“Fine with me, patron.” The last word said with more than an edge of contempt.
Sam and Fiona had just left, and she wasn’t far behind.
“Well,” said Olivier, giving Gamache the bill and their meals to take away. “That went south fast.”
Gamache paid, leaving a larger than normal tip for all the disruption. “I’m sorry. That’s been coming for a long time.”
Once home, he called the dogs, who joined him for a walk around the village green. The night was dark, the stars and moon hidden by a thick layer of clouds. The forecast was for rain, though it wasn’t expected until the morning.
As he walked, he tossed the tennis ball and looked up at the light in the second-floor window of the B&B. He waited, and watched, but saw no one moving about.
Stopping in front of the bistro, he tossed the ball again, then checked his messages. There was one from Reine-Marie.
I miss you too. Terribly.
He smiled and gazed through the mullioned windows. Friends and neighbors were there, enjoying dinner. He imagined Reine-Marie among them. Imagined going in, ordering a meal, and joining the conversation. Joining her.
