The Cruelest Month

‘What is it?’ asked Clara.



‘Don’t you get it? We’ve just talked about that case as though it was some episode on a TV drama. It was real. That man Arnot killed people. Killed the very people he was supposed to help. Why? Because they were natives, full of despair and sniff. And the one man who put a stop to it, who had the balls to stand up to Arnot and the entire Sûreté hierarchy, they tried to destroy too. Arnot’s psychotic, and I don’t say that lightly. I know the signs. I’ve diagnosed and worked with psychotic people for years. Don’t you get it?’



She looked at Peter and Clara then leaned over and picked up Peter’s paper, slapping it back down on the table, as though punishing it.



‘It’s not over. The Arnot case is still going on.’



The phone rang and Clara picked it up.



‘It’s Olivier,’ she said, covering the mouthpiece. ‘Wow, thanks. I’ll pass it along.’ Clara hung up and turned to the others. ‘Have you ever heard of ephedra?’



TWENTY



Jean Guy Beauvoir handed out the assignments.



Agent Isabelle Lacoste was to look into the life of Madeleine Favreau, Agent Nichol was to go through the list of suppliers of ephedra and find out if any shipped recently to the area, and Robert Lemieux would accompany Inspector Beauvoir and Chief Inspector Gamache.



‘But that’s not right,’ said Nichol, stunned by Beauvoir’s mistake in judgment. ‘He started looking into epilepsy, or whatever it is.’



‘Ephedra,’ said Beauvoir. ‘Weren’t you even listening?’



‘Look, it’s on the computer, isn’t it?’



Beauvoir swung around and glared at Gamache, making sure the boss understood how ridiculous this woman was.



‘The point is,’ continued Nichol, apparently oblivious of the impression she made, ‘he started it, he should finish it.’



‘What? Is that a new rule?’ asked Beauvoir. ‘This isn’t a school yard and this isn’t a debate. You’ll do as you’re ordered.’



‘Fine. Sir.’ Nichol stomped back to her desk, not acknowledging Lemieux’s attempt to catch her eye and smile an apology.



After they’d gone and the technicians were busy in another part of the room, Nichol brought out her cell phone. It’d been vibrating all through the meeting and it was all she could do not to answer. But that would have been a disaster.



‘Oui, allô,’ she said and wasn’t at all surprised to hear the familiar voice.



‘Tell me what’s happening,’ he said. She did and there was a pause on the other end. ‘I don’t like this. You should be with Gamache. Did you do something wrong? Did you upset him?’



‘Of course not. I even came up with the cause of death. Everyone was saying it was that drug stuff and I said she was scared to death. The chief even agreed and said it.’



‘Wait a minute, are you saying you showed him up in front of his entire team?’



‘It’s not hard.’



‘What have I told you? What have I taught you? Don’t antagonize him.’



‘What? So, I’m supposed to just agree?’



‘There’s more at stake here than a single case. You know that. Don’t fuck up.’



‘Stop saying that.’



‘Stop fucking up.’



The line went dead.



Armand Gamache nodded to two people sitting at a small round table outside Olivier’s Bistro, taking advantage of the fresh spring sun. Given a chance Quebecers stayed out on terrasses late into the fall and got back as soon as they could in the spring. Wearing turtleneck sweaters and coats, hats and gloves, they sought the sunshine.



These two were dipping biscotti into their cappuccinos and talking animatedly. The part of the conversation Gamache picked up sounded very much like the tendril of words he’d caught in the wind as they’d walked by the people standing on the village green with their dogs.



The village seemed to have one song today, with a single lyric.



Ephedra.



Gamache stopped and stared hard at Agent Lemieux who had a smile on his face and seemed to be enjoying the pleasant spring day.



‘Did you hear that?’ Gamache asked. Lemieux cocked his head to one side, listening.



‘Is it a robin?’



Inspector Beauvoir shook his head.



‘Listen more closely, please,’ said Gamache.



Lemieux became very quiet and listened, closing his eyes. He heard the river marauding past. He heard birds, though perhaps not robins. He heard people talking. He heard the word ‘ephedra’.