A Rule Against Murder

Gamache stopped in the hallway.



The shriek came again.



“Upstairs,” said Pierre.



Gamache nodded and started up, taking the stairs two at a time. At the landing they listened again.



“What’s above us?”



“The attic. There’s a stairway hidden behind a bookcase. Over here.” They followed Pierre to a slight widening of the hall, where bookcases had been built in. One was swung open. Gamache peered up. There was an old staircase, dim and dusty.



“Stay here.”



“Armand?” Reine-Marie began, but stopped when he held up his hand. He ran up the stairs, disappearing round a bend.



A bare bulb swished from side to side. Dust floated in what little light it threw and cobwebs hung from the rafters. It smelled of spiders. Gamache forced himself to stop and listen. There was nothing but the thumping of his heart. He stepped forward and a floorboard creaked. Behind him came another shriek. He turned and plunged into a darkened room. Bending low, ready to leap to either side, he stared and felt a pressure in his own throat.



Hundreds of eyes were staring at him. Then he saw a head. And another. Eyes peered at him from decapitated heads. And just as his racing brain registered that, something flew at him from a corner and knocked him almost off balance.



Bean sobbed and clung, digging small fingers into Gamache’s thigh. He prised them loose and held the child tight in his arms.



“What is it? Is someone else up here? Bean, you must tell me.”



“M-m-monsters,” Bean whispered, all eyes and dread. “We have to get out. Pleeease.”



Gamache picked Bean up, but the child screamed as though scalded and writhed in his arms. He lowered Bean back to the ground and held the small hand and together they ran to the stairs and down. A crowd had gathered.



“You again. What have you done to Bean this time?” Marianna demanded, clawing at her child.



“Bean found the heads?” Madame Dubois asked. Gamache nodded. The old woman knelt down and put a wrinkled hand on the tiny heaving back.



“I’m so sorry, Bean. It was my fault. Those are just decorations. Animal heads. Someone shot them years ago and had them stuffed. I can see how they’d be scary, but they can’t hurt you.”



“Of course they can’t hurt you.” Another withered hand landed on Bean’s back and the child stiffened. “Now, no tears, Bean. Madame Dubois has explained it all. What do you say?”



“Merci, Madame Dubois,” was heard, muffled.



“No, Bean. You must apologize for trespassing. You must have known you shouldn’t go there. You’re old enough to know better.”



“Non, ce n’est pas nécessaire,” Madame Dubois protested, but it was clear no one was going anywhere until the child apologized for being frightened half to death. And eventually Bean did.



All returned to normal and within minutes the Gamaches were in their wicker rocking chairs in the screen porch. There was something deeply peaceful about a rainy summer day. Outside the rain was soft and steady and refreshing after the terrible heat and humidity. The lake was dull and small squalls could be seen marking the surface. Reine-Marie did crossword puzzles as Gamache stared out of the screen porch and listened to the rain drum steadily on the roof and drip to the grass from the trees. In the distance he heard the call of the O Canada bird, and a crow. Or was it a raven? Gamache wasn’t very good with bird calls, except loons, but everyone knew them. But this was like no bird he’d ever heard before.



He cocked his head to one side and listened more closely. Then he stood up.



It wasn’t a bird calling. It was a cry, a shriek.



“It’s just Bean again,” Sandra said, wandering into the porch.



“Just wants attention,” said Thomas, from the Great Room. Ignoring them Gamache walked into the hallway and ran into Bean.



“That wasn’t you?” asked Gamache, though he knew the answer. Bean stared.



Another scream, even more hysterical this time, reached them.



“My God, what’s that?” Pierre appeared at the door to the kitchen. He looked at Bean, then at Gamache.



“It’s coming from outside,” said Reine-Marie.



Gamache and the maître d’ hurried into the rain, not stopping for protection.



“I’ll go this way,” yelled Pierre, motioning toward the staff cabins.



“No, wait,” said Gamache. Again he held his hand up and Pierre stopped dead. This man was used to giving orders and being obeyed, Pierre realized. They stood for what seemed an eternity, rain running down their faces and plastering their light clothes to their skins.