A Better Man

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

“We need to go,” said Annie. “They’ve almost finished boarding.”

Armand’s Sûreté credentials had gotten him and Reine-Marie past security. They stood with Annie and Jean-Guy by the gate at Trudeau International Airport.

Honoré was in Reine-Marie’s arms while Armand and Jean-Guy struggled with the travel stroller.

“Here,” said Reine-Marie. She handed the child to Annie, walked over to them, pressed a button, lifted some nylon, and up it folded.

The two men nodded to each other, Laurel and Hardy style.

Hm, hm, hm.

“Can I leave him here and bring you to Paris, Maman?”

“Oh, don’t ask me twice,” said Reine-Marie, taking Honoré back.

Dropping her face to his hair, she took a deep breath, then handed him to his grandfather.

The Air Canada representative approached. “I’m sorry, but we’re closing the gate.”

“Merci,” said Annie, and looked at her father.

“See you soon, buddy,” Armand whispered to the tired child, almost asleep in his arms. “You’ll love Paris. What an adventure you’ll have. And you’ll see your cousins Florence and Zora.”

He held Honoré in the pocket of his shoulder, resting his cheek on the little head, for a moment. Then he kissed his forehead and whispered, “I love you.”

The boy put his small hand on his grandfather’s large one. Holding it there.

“Dad?” said Annie, putting out her arms.

Armand handed Honoré back to his mother.

“Before I go, I want to give you this,” said Jean-Guy, holding out an envelope.

“Money?” asked Armand, as he took it.

Jean-Guy laughed. “Non. A name. The person I’m recommending as your second-in-command.”

“Hope they’re better than your last one,” said Armand.

“Hard to be worse,” agreed Jean-Guy. “It is, of course, your decision.”

“Does this person know?”

“They applied. And yes, they do know about the recommendation.” He nodded to the envelope. “I used one of the things you taught me, when making my decision about your second-in-command.”

“You mean the four statements that lead to wisdom?” asked Armand.

Jean-Guy shook his head.

“The three questions to ask yourself before speaking?”

Again, Jean-Guy shook his head.

“Then what?”

“Sometimes you just have to do something stupid.”

Armand raised his brows, and Annie turned to her mother.

“Oh, dear God, don’t tell me that’s the lesson he’s taken from Dad?”

“I thought your dad got it from him.”

Armand put the envelope in his pocket. He knew the name it contained. Bob Cameron. A lowly agent. Not even an inspector.

Gamache hadn’t considered him. Cameron had potential, but still, giving him such a promotion would be a hard sell to his superiors, and the rest of the unit. But if someone can drop far, maybe he can also rise fast.

Armand put out his hand to Jean-Guy, who took it and held it. And looked into those familiar eyes. And saw that, after all these years, after all that had happened, after all the pain and hurt, one thing had not changed.

In those eyes he still saw kindness.

And Armand, looking deep into Jean-Guy’s, saw below all the pain, all the hurt, all the ghosts, a gleam. A beam. Of kindness.

“I’ll find a way to be useful,” Jean-Guy whispered. “Patron.”

“And so will I. Patron.”

Then he embraced Annie. “I love you. Take care of yourself. If you need anything, anything at all…”

“I know, Dad. I love you, too.”

The young family disappeared through the door, Honoré holding up his hand to wave goodbye.

It was the secret wave he and his grandfather had worked out after Great-aunt Ruth had shown the boy the one-finger wave. Papa had explained that really, three fingers were even better. For the three pines.

Armand raised his hand and waved back.

Then they were gone.

To start their new life in the City of Light.

Once home, Reine-Marie poured them each a scotch while Armand walked Henri and Gracie. And Fred. Slowly around the village green.

He looked up as a plane moved overhead. Among the stars.

The next morning the villagers gathered to dismantle the wall of sandbags. All danger was past.

Then, led by Myrna, they walked down the path beside the Bella Bella, past young fiddleheads and lily of the valley and crocuses in the woods, to the bend in the river.

Lighting candles and a stick of dried sage, they smudged the area, blessed the area, said a prayer for the dead and the living. Then all walked back to the bistro for breakfast.

But Armand and Reine-Marie stopped at the bench on the village green. A peaceful place in the bright sunshine. They watched robins hop on the grass. They smelled woodsmoke and mud. And sweet pine.

Armand put his hand into his coat pocket and felt the envelope there. He’d forgotten it but now brought it out.

“What’s that?” Reine-Marie asked.

“From Jean-Guy. His suggestion for my second-in-command.”

After he’d opened it, he smiled and put it back in his pocket. Beside him, Reine-Marie closed her eyes and tilted her face up.

Then they walked back to the bistro to join the others.

Unheard by anyone else, Armand bent down and whispered to Ruth. “I forgive you, but don’t ever do it again.”

“Do what?”

“You know.” While he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, especially to the elderly woman, even this elderly woman, he brought out his phone and showed her. The Twitter handle @dumbass. And the link to the real Sûreté video of the raid on the factory. There were other posts by @dumbass, defending Gamache. But when the video went up, they’d stopped.

There was no longer any need to defend him once that vile video went viral.

“How did you find it?” he asked.

“I didn’t. You think I’d defend you?”

“I do.”

“I would,” the old poet admitted. “I did. But that’s not me.”

Armand stepped back and stared at Ruth. He knew her to be many things, but never a liar.

So if she wasn’t @dumbass, who was?

Madeleine Toussaint sat at her desk and opened her computer.

Putting in her Sûreté code, she went back over her posts, aimed at Gamache, and deleted them all. Pausing just a moment at the final one.

Then Chief Superintendent Toussaint hit delete. And @dumbass disappeared. Never, she prayed, to be found. Because if anyone knew … If the Premier found out she’d defied him, and defended Gamache by posting the real video …

It was an act of contrition. An amend. And now they were even, and she owed her former mentor nothing.

Looking across the room, her eyes fell on the last remnant of the last occupant. Something she kept meaning to take down. But had kept up. The framed poster, nailed to the wall by the door. The first, and last, thing seen each day.

Noli timere.

Armand sat on the sofa beside Reine-Marie and reached for the café au lait Olivier had brought them.

He seemed distracted, but now he reached into his pocket and handed Reine-Marie the envelope. “You might want to read this.”

“Jean-Guy’s recommendation?” She put on her reading glasses. “Will you take it?”

“I think so.”

Armand watched her face as Reine-Marie read. He saw the smile. And relief. As she stared at Jean-Guy’s familiar hand and the name he’d so carefully written.

Armand’s new second-in-command.

Isabelle Lacoste.

Reine-Marie lowered the paper to her lap and looked into the fireplace. Everything might be all right, after all, she thought.