All the Devils Are Here

CHAPTER 19

Armand stood in the bright sunshine of the small park. He knew he should read his emails, make some phone calls.

But he needed this more. This moment watching his grandchildren play. Watching his own children be parents. Turning his back on life as it was, he watched life as it should be.

Walking over to Daniel, who was pushing Zora on a swing, he said, “Can we grab a beer later? Just us.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company. Because it would be nice to catch up. Hear more about your new job, your new home.”

“Continue the interrogation?”

Armand managed not to be drawn in. “I just want to catch up. We don’t get to do that often.”

Ever.

“I’m a little busy right now,” said Daniel. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Daniel—”

“See you later, Dad.”

He gave Zora another push, turning his back on his father.

Across the park, Reine-Marie was watching, and caught Armand’s eye.

“You okay?” Reine-Marie asked when he joined her. “That looked tense.”

“He’s angry about the interview. About my questioning him.”

“He’ll settle down. Realize you did it to help him.”

“I don’t think he will. I tried to talk to him, but…” He raised his hands.

She saw in that gesture all the pain and futility of the last twenty-five years. The frustration and sadness of trying to connect with a child who’d one day vanished. His sweet boy. Gone. Replaced by a grim, angry child.

And they didn’t know why.

She looked at her husband and thought, not for the first time, that here was a man who spent his life working out what had happened to others, but who couldn’t figure out what had happened to his own child.

“I’ve invited the Dussaults for dinner tonight,” she said.

“I’m sorry? You what?”

“Claude and Monique are coming for dinner.”

He stared at her. Of course, she couldn’t have known the awkwardness of the conversation at the 36 just an hour or so earlier. But she did know that the cologne they’d smelled in Stephen’s apartment, while standing over the body, was the same as Claude Dussault wore. That there was a suspicion that the Prefect was somehow involved.

“Why?”

“I think I’ve found the cologne,” she said. “The one we smelled. But I want to be sure. I thought if we had them over…”

“We could just ask him? Claude, were you in the apartment with us? Did you kill Alexander Plessner? Cheese?”

She laughed. “No. Of course not. But it might come up.”

“Cologne?”

“He doesn’t know we smelled it in the apartment, does he?”

“No.”

“Then there’s no harm in asking.”

“There’s a great deal of harm,” said Armand, turning to her. “Reine-Marie, please. Promise me you won’t ask him. Please. These are dangerous times. He might be a friend, but if he isn’t, if he feels threatened, cornered—”

“So you do suspect him.”

“I’m afraid at this stage I suspect everyone. Except our own family. Please, promise me you won’t ask him about his cologne.”

“I promise. Did I make a mistake in inviting them over? I can cancel.”

Armand thought about that. “No, it might actually be a good thing.”

He looked around for Jean-Guy. He was anxious to hear what Beauvoir had learned at GHS earlier in the afternoon.

Armand spotted him and watched as Jean-Guy gave Honoré the nickels that were stuck together. While the boy tried to pull them apart, Jean-Guy turned full circle. Scanning the area.

Gamache recognized that look. It was not casual.

Honoré, in frustration, tossed the nickels into the grass.

When Jean-Guy turned back to his son, the nickels were gone. He immediately knelt and opened Honoré’s mouth, frantically sweeping his fingers in as the boy began to cry.

Armand ran over, calling, “It’s okay. He threw them away.”

“Oh, thank God. If anything happens to Honoré…” He looked over at Annie. “I don’t want to be blamed.”

Armand laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Daniel pick up the nickels, making sure no other child swallowed them. Putting them in his pocket, Daniel walked away from his father and Jean-Guy.

“Are you all right?” asked Jean-Guy. “After what Fontaine said…”

“It was a shock. I know it’s not true, about Stephen, but just hearing the accusation was sickening.”

“I’ve asked for the file.”

Gamache turned to him now. “Does it strike you as strange that she should have it? They only began the investigation this morning, but they already have some old dossier on Stephen that had been buried in the archives for seventy-five years.”

Jean-Guy nodded and watched as Honoré ran over to play with the other children. Then he looked at Annie, so pregnant she was about to explode. She was sitting on a bench, chatting with another mother.

“You all right?” asked Armand.

“I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted.”

Armand followed his glance. “Tell me.”

Jean-Guy lowered his voice, becoming almost furtive. As though what he was about to say was shameful.

“I’m so worried. Have we done the right thing? What’s going to happen? Jesus, I’m standing right next to Honoré and I can’t stop him from swallowing coins. How’m I ever going to keep our daughter safe? All her life. It’ll never stop. And, and, God help me, I think of how happy we are, just the three of us. Have we made a mistake? I’m so afraid.”

Armand paused, then asked gently, “What’re you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to do it. That we, I, won’t love her enough. I’m worried for Honoré. And yes, I’m worried for me. What it’ll mean to me. I wake up in the middle of the night and think, what’ve we done? And I just want to run away. Oh, God, am I really so selfish?”

Across the park Daniel, now talking with other parents, saw his father and Jean-Guy in a clearly intimate conversation. Turning his back, he focused on the strangers in front of him.

“No, of course you’re not. Listen.” Armand held Jean-Guy’s arm. “Are you listening? Look at me.”

Jean-Guy raised his eyes.

“It would be insane not to be afraid. To worry. The very thing you just admitted is what will make you a great father to your daughter. We’re all afraid. Of something bad happening to our children. Of not being there when they need us. Of not being enough. We all want to pull the sheets up over our heads some days and hide. But not all of us admit it. Your daughter is one lucky girl. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, but I suspect you’ll find that she is much more like other babies than she is different. And I do know you will love her, Jean-Guy.”

Beauvoir looked into his father-in-law’s eyes and hoped that was true.

Just then little Zora started crying. They watched as Daniel took her in his arms and held her, rubbing her back. Letting her wail. And whispering, “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

Reine-Marie and Armand joined them.

“Did she fall?” asked Reine-Marie.

Daniel put her down and asked, “Are you hurt?”

Sputtering, trying to catch her breath, Zora shook her head.

“Why are you crying?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Nothing.”

Armand gave a handkerchief to his son, who used it to wipe Zora’s face and have her blow her nose.

Florence, her older sister, had come over and was hovering in the background.

“It’s the other kids,” Florence said.

“Is not,” muttered Zora.

“What about them?” asked Daniel.

“They make fun of her.”

“Do not.”

“Why?”

“Because of her name.”

Now her little sister was quiet, though her face had again crumpled, and she was on the verge of tears.

“They say it’s weird. That she’s weird.”

“I hate it,” said Zora. “I hate my name, and I hate them.”

“Has anyone told you about your name?” her grandfather asked. “Where it comes from?”

“Grand-mère,” she muttered. “Or something.”

Armand knelt down now. “Your great-grandmother, yes.” He looked at the other kids, staring, then at Daniel. “Can we all go for a walk?”

Daniel nodded and put out his hand for his daughter to hold, while Reine-Marie took Florence’s.

As they strolled through the park, Armand told Zora all about Zora. Leaving out the worst bits, the nightmare parts, time enough for that later. He told her how brave her namesake was. And how loved. How funny and kind. And strong.

“Zora is a beautiful name,” said Reine-Marie. “It means ‘dawn.’ Every name means something special.”

“What does my name mean?” asked Florence.

“It means ‘to flower,’” said Daniel. “‘To blossom.’ And to blossom, you know what you need?”

“Candy?”

Her father laughed. “Non. Flowers need the sun.” He looked over at Zora. Florence followed his gaze and nodded. But said nothing.

“And maybe,” Daniel said to both his girls, “some ice cream. But first”—he leaned toward them—“a horse kiss.”

At that, they shrieked and ran away, laughing.

Armand watched his son be a father, and smiled. Yes, it was far more important he be a great father than a good son. Hanging back, he joined Jean-Guy. “We need to talk.”

Reine-Marie went across to the Marché des Enfants Rouges to get food for that evening, while Daniel and Roslyn took the girls home for ice cream.

Annie walked with Honoré back to their apartment, for a nap.

“Coming?” she asked Jean-Guy.

“Do you mind if I speak to your father?”

“Not at all. Don’t forget the key.”

“The key,” Jean-Guy said as he and Armand flagged down a taxi, “is a box of mille-feuilles. I’m not allowed in without them.”

Armand smiled. With Reine-Marie, it had been spicy sausage pizza.

“Hôtel Lutetia, s’il vous plaît,” he told the driver and closed the glass partition between them.

It was the first chance they’d had to be alone since Jean-Guy’s visit to his office at GHS Engineering.

“What did you find out?”

“Well?” said Claude Dussault. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing concrete, sir,” said Fontaine over the phone.

Dussault could hear it in her voice. The hesitation. “But?”

“But I think Monsieur Gamache has suspicions. He was courteous, but I don’t think he was completely open.”

“I see. How did he react to the file on Stephen Horowitz?”

“Angrily. It shifted the focus, as you predicted.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll focus on that and not so much on the investigation.”

“He did ask to see the box. I told him I didn’t have it. Why can’t you just tell him to back off, patron?”

“I tried. Didn’t work. Besides, best if we can keep an eye on him. I’m going to their place for dinner. I might find out more.”

After he hung up, Dussault sat back and considered. He’d initially been annoyed at Monique for accepting the invitation to the Gamaches’ for dinner that night. It would, at the very least, be awkward.

Now he thought it might be a good idea.