Part 12 (1/2)
Favreau.
It was familiar and then he remembered. It was the name on the report into Laurent's death. The one that concluded it had been an accident.
”We were told to come here to look into something strange.”
He looked at Gamache.
”Would that be you, mon vieux?” he asked, and got a snort of amus.e.m.e.nt from his partner.
”Do you have any idea-” Gabri began, but Armand waved him quiet.
”Any idea what?” asked the Srete agent.
”I think it's best if you all go back home,” said Armand to the other searchers. ”I take it Olivier's waiting for Chief Inspector Lacoste?”
Gabri nodded. ”Oui. He'll show them in.”
Gamache turned to Monsieur Beliveau. ”Chief Inspector Lacoste might bring ladders, but I expect you have some too.”
”Ladders?” the grocer asked. ”Yes. My own personal one, but I can find more.”
”Ladders, Armand?” asked Reine-Marie, searching her husband's face then looking behind him.
”Oui. Oh, and Monsieur Beliveau, can you make them big ladders?”
”Of course,” said the grocer. An unflappable man, he now seemed slightly flapped.
”Wait a minute,” said Agent Favreau. ”What's all this about? No one leaves until we get an explanation.”
Gamache stepped closer to him. The agent backed up and put his hand on his billy club.
Gamache c.o.c.ked his head to one side, taking in the movement. Then he turned away from the agents, toward the villagers who were watching with unease.
”Go on,” he said.
”Armand?” asked Reine-Marie.
”I'll be home soon.” He smiled rea.s.suringly.
And they left, glancing back now and then to the large man and two young men, squaring off in the old-growth forest. It was hard not to get the impression of lithe young wolves closing in on a stag. Having no idea just how very dangerous a stag could be.
Laurent's parents hadn't budged and Gamache hadn't expected them to. They were now the exceptions.
Gamache returned his attention to the young men.
”You see them?” When the agents didn't respond, he continued. ”That's Evelyn and Al Lepage. They lost their son, Laurent, a few days ago. I believe you wrote up the report.”
”Yes,” said Agent Favreau. ”An accident. Ran his bike off the road. What does that have to do with this?”
”His death was no accident.” Gamache lowered his voice so that the Lepages didn't hear, yet again, what they already knew. ”He was killed here, and his body taken to that ditch. The evidence is over there.”
Gamache looked behind him.
”Where?” Agent Favreau demanded.
”It's hard to see. It's hidden under netting.”
”Show me,” said the agent, walking toward Gamache, who stepped in front of him.
”Please don't go any further,” he said, locking eyes with the young cop. ”You're in danger of destroying evidence.”
”And you're in danger of obstructing our investigation.”
”I asked you here to guard the scene until the homicide team arrives from Montreal,” said Gamache.
”You asked us here?” the agent laughed. ”We're not guests at your party. Step aside.”
”I will not,” said Gamache. ”You're not trained for this. I was with the Srete too. Let the experts in homicide do their jobs and you do yours.”
”Step aside or I'll knock you aside.”
He brought out his club.
Gamache's eyes widened in shock. A look the agent mistook for fear. He grinned.
”Go on, old man. Give me a reason.” He glared at Gamache.
”My G.o.d, were you trained at the academy?” Gamache demanded.
”Don't use that tone with me or you'll see how the academy taught us to deal with people who hara.s.s an officer in the course of his duty.”
”Favreau,” Agent Bra.s.sard whispered, but his colleague refused to acknowledge him.
”You'll be my first arrest. One I suspect you'll resist.”
Gamache was looking at him with such alarm that the man laughed.
”p.i.s.sing your pants, mon vieux? Now get out of our way.”
The agent went to walk past Gamache.
”Stop,” said Gamache, stepping in his path. ”Step back.”
And the agent, surprised by the note of authority, did.
”You're new to the job,” said Gamache. ”Am I right?”
Bra.s.sard nodded but Favreau remained still.
”I know you want to make your mark, but your job is not to bully citizens. Nor is it to collect evidence, but to guard it. You're lucky. You'll get to see how a homicide is investigated in the real world. Most agents wait years before they get that chance.” He lowered his voice. ”But to Evelyn and Alan Lepage, this isn't a case. It's their son. Their child. Never forget that.”