Chapter 3

C HAPTER 3

At the first ring, Reine-Marie's hand jerked and the blue-and-white plate she was holding fell, shattering on the fieldstone terrace.

Then her own phone began ringing too. She looked at Armand, and Armand looked at her.

Was it possible, he thought, his mind racing. Had the caller, infuriated by his response, decided to change tactics and go after Reine-Marie?

He half expected all their phones to start ringing. A cacophony, a scream. An attack.

He had to stop this. He had to answer.

As he swiped accept, he stood up and walked to the grassy verge of the river. Reine-Marie's phone stopped ringing. She too had answered.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"Chief Inspector Gamache?"

" Oui. "

"This is the alarm company. A sensor has gone off at your home in Montréal. Would you like me to send a car?"

Armand felt a wave of relief, and a slight hysteria bubble up. " Un instant, s'il vous pla?t. " He turned to Reine-Marie. "The alarm?"

" Oui. " She too was relieved. "It's the front door?" she said into her phone. "It's faulty. This has happened before."

"Have the motion sensors been activated?" Armand asked, returning to his call.

" Non. Nothing. No one actually entered your home. It appears to be another false alarm. I'm guessing you're not there."

"No. Don't bother sending a car. I'll have someone drop by and check."

"If you're sure, Chief Inspector."

"I am, merci ."

"I'll turn off the alarm," said the young man. "But you really should have it fixed."

"Are you kidding me?" the familiar voice said. "Again?"

"We all need a hobby, mon vieux ," said Armand.

He was talking to Jean-Guy Beauvoir, his second-in-command and son-in-law.

Annie and Jean-Guy lived close to the Gamaches' pied-à-terre in the Outremont quartier of Montréal. Though the young couple and their two children lived in the less swanky Mile End neighborhood.

"I'll walk over with Honoré, but I should warn you, Armand, whoever broke in might've stolen all your cookies."

"What cookies?"

A few minutes later Jean-Guy called from their apartment.

"All clear. No break-in. But can you please get it fixed?"

He was standing at the open doorway to the Gamaches' small apartment, the one they'd bought when they'd sold the family home and moved to Three Pines. This was a pied-à-terre, for when they had to stay in the city for work, or just a nice weekend in Montréal.

Over the years Chief Inspector Gamache had, inadvertently, become the public face of Québec's provincial police. The S?reté. Whose motto was Service, Intégrité, Justice .

But a motto and reality were two different things. Gamache knew that the vast majority of the agents and inspectors, the chief inspectors and detachment commanders, did believe in service, integrity, and justice. But there remained pockets of corruption. And not just in the S?reté.

With that thought came the memory of the phone call that morning.

From a government number. From a person he knew to be corrupt, though he could not prove it. Someone whose power and influence had only grown over the years and was now almost limitless.

"Armand?"

Jean-Guy's voice on the phone brought him back to the matter at hand. The annoying false alarms.

" Désolé ," said Armand. "I was distracted." Which was true. He was now staring at Rosa. The duck had planted her beak in his pain au chocolat.

"I must warn you, I think the mice have gotten into your stash of chocolate chips you hide from Reine-Marie."

"I do nothing of the sort."

"Oh, good. Then you won't miss them."

"Terrible man," Armand mumbled, and heard Jean-Guy laugh as he hung up. Then, turning to Reine-Marie, he said, "Want to go into Montréal? Spend the night. Maybe see if Vivienne and Marcel can join us for dinner."

The LaPierres were the Gamaches' best friends in Montréal. Had been since the day Daniel broke his leg, and Dr. LaPierre had run across avenue Querbes to help the screaming child and the distraught parents.

That had been twenty-five years earlier.

"I'll call, see if they can meet us at Leméac," said Reine-Marie.

The restaurant was around the corner from their home. She could already taste her truffle oil salmon tartare, while Armand and Marcel would have their usual moules frites.

Vivienne, a marine biologist, preferred the creamy mushroom risotto, with slabs of aged Parmesan. She and Reine-Marie would have Pinot Noir while the men would order beers.

The decision was easy, the calls made, the dinner arranged.

Before leaving, they stopped at Monsieur Béliveau's General Store. For cookies.

As they walked to their car, they passed a man heading toward the bistro. A stranger. Slender, elderly. In a suit that didn't quite fit, and a tie too wide for the fashion of the day.

A few paces on, Armand glanced back and saw the man had also paused, to look at him. Their eyes met, briefly, before both turned away.

The man seemed vaguely familiar. He must, Armand thought, be staying at the B&B. Reaching for the handle of the car door, he looked back again, but the man had already entered the bistro.

The slightly odd thing, thought Armand as they drove out of the village, was that he had a warm feeling about the man. If he did know him, it was a pleasant memory.